#c: thor odinson

[thorsource]

There is a lesson here, brother, and it's not to skip the squat thrusts when pursuing those mighty muscles!

IMMORTAL THOR #7

[howtheavengerswould]

how would the avengers react when avenger! reader is able to lift thor’s hammer?

requests open!

how the avengers would react...

𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙃𝘼𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙍? (IM TRYING TO INSERT PICTURES BUT IT WONT WORK)

Thor was most likely the most confused. What started with training ended in deafened silence as you had simply caught his hammer from midair. He would try to call the hammer back, but it simply stayed in your grip, your own shocked eyes meeting his. He would laugh, clapping his hands together and staring pointedly at your grip on the hammer, before striding up to you and plucking it from your hands. His ego was definitely bruised, not that he'd let anyone know.

Steve always knew you had the capacity to do it, you simply never tried. It was something he was curious of--who exactly would be deemed as worthy, but he had a guess, that if anyone was, it'd be you. You were definitely the nicest of the group, and he wasn't very shocked when you had lifted it from the table at one of Tony's parties. He noticed, however, how you'd stared at your hands like you'd just made a miracle, and patted you on the back, letting you know that it wasn't that surprising, and that you were indeed worthy of holding the legendary hammer.

Tony had been there when Steve had seen you lift the hammer, and his first instinct was to play a prank on the rest of the team. He'd drunkenly invite you over to his side of the couch, brazenly whispering in your ear his idea: "You should put the hammer on top of..." he'd cut himself off with laughter, but would finish his sentence, nearly doubled over, "their stuff." It would take a hot second for you to figure out quite what he meant, but when you realised, it was enough to send the two of you into a fit of giggles.

Natasha was the first victim of you and Tony's antics. The spy always woke up earlier than anyone else for training, and walking into the training room the next morning, she'd find her catsuit stuck under the hammer. Of course, no one was awake to hear the frustrated pleas of the Black Widow--other than you and Tony, of course, hiding away in his workshop, and watching from a camera. Natasha, ever the attentive woman, would spot the new camera, and march herself down into Tony's workshop... and kindly 'ask' for you to move it. She half expected Thor to be with Tony, but when she'd seen you, she managed to put two and two together. She was proud of you, of course... after the frustration and mild silent treatment ended.

Clint was next, and shortly following Natasha, he would find his bow trapped under the hilt of Mjolnir. He nearly had a fit, stomping with mild annoyance towards an innocent Thor's room, who had been so preoccupied with his findings of 'video games' that he hadn't even noticed his hammer's dissapearance. Thor, now the victim of Clint's morning annoyance, would try to eagerly rope the archer into playing with him. The pair would only be found later that night, passed out over chips and a few broken controllers. (...when Clint did find out who exactly had trapped his bow, he would laugh outwardly, and then whisper a good-natured warning in your ear, "Don't do it again, or I'm putting you in one of those holding cells until the next person finds you.")

Bruce was, of course, the unfortunate last member of Tony's incredible prank ideas. He would find the door to his lab jammed shut by Mjolnir, but of course, the culprit hadn't exactly left the scene of the crime. You'd been setting it up when he had stumbled upon you, five minutes earlier to his usual arrival time, and simply stared in shock at the sight of you holding the hammer. "So... have you been able to do that the whole time, or is that new?" You'd laugh it off together, and the hammer would definitely be used as a party trick in the future.

[musclesandhammering]

There’s zero chance Loki and Hela having so many similarities is just a coincidence. And even though we’re most definitely never getting a full explanation for it, I’m so curious as to what you guys believe the reason is. Do you think:

a.) Loki’s a shapeshifter who can see people’s memories when he touches them. So when Odin picked him up as a baby, he saw Hela in Odin’s mind and shifted himself to resemble her.

b.) Loki and Hela have the same biological mother.

c.) Hela is Loki’s biological mother.

d.) Odin changed Loki to look like Hela when he first held him, because he missed her.

e.) Hela’s biological mother is jotun, and she and Loki both have black hair/pale skin/green aesthetic/etc because that’s just what frost giants look like when they take an asgardian form.

f.) Hela and Loki are both adopted, both children of Laufey. Odin took Hela centuries earlier, then when he realised Laufey’d had another child, he took Loki too.

**I’ve listed these in order from the ones I find most likely to least likely, if you’re curious. Tell me which headcanon you prefer, I wanna see.

[jiyascepter]

˗ˏˋ➳ Loki In Thor (2011) | icons

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finally posting these icons & headers that have been sitting in my drafts since forever, more coming!

-> more from this movie

[squids-comics]

For once, Spidey saw a villain and didn't immediately go chase him. He realized he was in a Thor comic and said:

From: Mighty Thor #141

[eva-knits12]

Valentine's Day With Steve

Trigger warning: labor, emergency c-section, childbirth, Steve Rogers, fluff in the end

Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and you and Steve welcome James into the world.

The nursery is set up. The crib is built, the changing table is built. The dresser is full of onesies, booties, and various other baby clothes. You're napping in bed, while Steve is giving you a foot rub.

You feel a sharp pain. At first, you think it's Braxton Hicks, so Steve fetches you a glass of water. You drink the water.

"Thanks, Steve," you say, and drink the water.

"Shh, doll. James will be here soon," says Steve.

"Steve, can you help me up? Our son is sitting on my bladder again," you say.

It seems that just when you would get comfortable again as best as you can, James would sit on your bladder. Steve helps you up, and helps you to the bathroom, because you need to pee for the 200th time this morning.

Steve looks at the sketchbook. Today's sketch was with you, naked, and you have a bright red heart and nice, white heart with lace trim on your belly. The little chalkboard that had that day's stats were in the drawing, and each stat is of the chalkboard that is drawn up close. It's dated February 14th.

A little while later, you feel another pain, this one sharper and more painful than the last.

"STEVE!", you scream.

Steve comes rushing and sees you doubled over.

"Oh, Doll," coos Steve.

"I'll call the doctor," says Steve

"AHHHHHHHH, the baby's coming Steve!", you scream.

Steve is calling the doctor, and you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You faint, and Steve immediately calls 911. Something is definitely wrong!

Steve is on the phone with the operator, and is trying to bring you back around. The ambulance arrives, and the paramedics are busy taking your vitals and setting you up on a fetal monitor. The fetal monitor indicates that the baby's heartbeat is going down rapidly, which is affecting you. You're also bleeding uncontrollably, which is another reason why you passed out. The paramedics are trying to control your bleeding, and they realize that you now have a placental abruption.

Steve is sitting in the ambulance, worried sick. The paramedics are busy working on you, and are keeping in touch with the hospital. The hospital immediately sets up an OR, and your ob/gyn is there, wanting to keep an eye on the baby.

When the paramedics arrive at the hospital, you've finally come around. You still have an oxygen mask on, and you're still bleeding. The doctor and nurses rush you to the OR, and get ready for an emergency c-section. It was the only way that James could be delivered safely. Steve is in there, and his nerves are frazzled. He's trying to keep it together for you, but he is worried sick.

The doctor immediately puts you on IV drip with anesthetic coming in your spine locally. They don't put you to sleep during a c-section, and you're still breathing through the oxygen mask. You came to when you arrived at the hospital.

"Shh, James will be here soon, doll. Just hang on," says Steve, who has grabbed your hand, and kisses your hand.

You nod with the oxygen mask on. The IV drip is providing the anesthetic, and the doctor has now cut you open. James is immediately removed, and it was discovered that the umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. He was losing oxygen rapidly, which was caused you to faint. The cord being wrapped around James' neck was what caused the placental abruption, so it was basically the lack of oxygen that James was getting that was causing the placental abruption.

James Joseph Rogers is born on February 14 at 1:15 p.m. via an emergency c-section.

The ob/gyn, and the nurses are now trying to bring James around. The doctor had managed to get the cord unwrapped, but it took a while for James to start breathing. When you and Steve hear James cry, you both breathe a sigh of relief.

An incubator in the NICU is ready, and James is placed in the incubator. The incubator will not only keep James alive, it will help him start to breathe regularly, have a regular heartbeat and it will help him recover. The doctors give you and James and excellent prognosis. James may not have to be in the incubator for long, and you have an excellent chance at recovery, since Steve had enough sense to call an ambulance the second you fainted. James is set up on a machine that is keeping an eye on his vitals.

You just wanted to hold James after he was born. You're devasted, and Steve is sitting next to James in the incubator. He's stroking James' head, and telling him that he's amazingly strong, just like his mama. You sleep after a while. A few hours later, the nurse takes you to the NICU so that you can feed James. The nurse asked if you planned on breastfeeding, bottle feeding, or pumping. You were going to breast feed James for the first year of his life.

"James, this is not how we wanted you to start life. Originally, your mom and I were planning on home birthing you," says Steve.

The home birthing part is true. You had no intention of wanting to give birth in a hospital. You were low risk, everything was normal, and you had the doctor, a nurse, and a midwife at the ready. You had everything ready for the home birth. In fact, you felt it would be more natural to have a home birth. Steve felt the same way. Steve would be behind you, saying soothing things, while you were in labor. You would eventually be naked, giving birth to James. You would be squatting and pushing James out. You felt that a home birth would be the one of the most beautiful and natural things that you and Steve would experience as a couple. Valentine's day would be even more meaningful since James would be born, and it would be the best Valentine's day ever!

James had other ideas. He was born via an emergency c-section.

The nurse helps you pull down your gown, and you release your breast. The nurse carefully removes James from the incubator, and hands you James. You hold your breast to James and he takes it.

James and you are bonding in the most beautiful and natural way possible. Steve is smiling at the wholesome site. Steve is sitting in the corner, drawing a picture of breast feeding James.

You finish feeding James, and Steve gives you a loving kiss to your forehead.

"Get some sleep, doll," says Steve. You were tired. You looked tired. The nurse takes you back to your hospital room, and Steve is right next to you. You both fall asleep in the hospital bed, exhaustion taking over the both of you.

"Good morning, doll," says Steve. Steve and you wake up in the hospital.

"Good morning, Steve," you say.

The next morning, you see a hospital crib in your room. You think you're seeing things, and you call the nurse. It takes you a while to realize that it's your baby, and that James must be doing a lot better.

"James made a full recovery," explains the nurse.

"He's breathing normally, he has a normal heart rate, he's a strong, healthy baby boy," says the nurse.

"How did he recover so quickly?" you ask.

Dr. Banner walks in, and says his congratulations. He explains that Steve's altered DNA and Steve's serum made James be stronger than most. He explained that it was the altered DNA that helped speed up James' recovery. Bruce even packed a hospital bag for you that contained all the basic needs. His girlfriend helped him. What happened was so fast that Steve didn't have any time to pack, let alone think. He was concerned with you.

It turned out the reason why Bruce was here was that he was dating one of the nurses. He heard about what happened, and that she had to be in the OR. Being a nurse had it's advantages, and Bruce was the only person that she could think of to call. Luckily, Bruce told Tony and everyone. Bruce was a gossip, and he was the one that blurted out that you were pregnant well after you had hyperemesis gravidarum. You and Steve wanted to announce it when you both had the cookout at the house you both bought.

'Thanks, Bruce," you say, tiredness in your voice. Steve hugs Bruce.

Later on, the rest of the Avengers arrive to see you and James. Tony says that James should have been named after him.

"Tony! This is our baby," you say.

"We chose to name him after Bucky and after my father," says Steve.

"Anthony Rogers has a MUCH better ring to it," says Tony.

"I wanted to name our son after Steve's best friend and his father," you say.

Bucky and Natasha come in and congratulate you and Steve. Bucky found another teddy for James that looks like Bucky that's dressed as the Winter Soldier.

Thor sees James, and comments to Steve that James was already a figher.

"Thanks, Thor," says Steve.

Clint comments how much James is like Steve, even down to Steve's features. You thank Clint.

A few days later, you and Steve are ready to take James home. Bucky arrives in the car you and Steve picked out. The car seat was already loaded in, your hospital bag was already packed. You had already applied the antibiotic ointment. Steve pulls the car around, and Bucky wheels you down. Bucky drives you and Steve back home, with you and Steve sitting in the back.

Bucky parks in the driveway, and Steve gets out and opens the door. You and James are sleeping in the backseat, so Steve carries you into the house, bridal style, and Bucky carries James in, and places James in his crib.

Steve falls asleep next to you. Bucky decides to stay for a while in case you and Steve need anything. Natasha comes over, and helps the both of you.

After a while, James cries, and he needs to be fed. You breast feed him, and this feels amazing. You and Steve are tired, you had an unplanned c-section, you feel sort of frumpy, but Steve tells you every hour how beautiful you are.

"Shh, James. I know you and mama went through a lot," says Steve. Steve places a Captain America pacifier in James mouth. James falls asleep again.

"You are so beautiful and so strong, doll," says Steve.

"You are the most beautiful new mother ever," says Steve.

You cry at this because Steve is so right. You feel ugly at times, but Steve makes you feel less insecure and more beautiful. Your body housed your and Steve's baby for nine whole months.

Steve and you slow dance to "It's Been a Long, Long Time" by Kitty Kallen and then to " Perfect" by Ed Sheeran.

"Steve, I love you so much. You are the best husband a woman can ask for, and more. You even made me feel safe after I had James via a c-section," you say.

"Shh, I love you, too, doll. I love you so much. You went through a lot to bring James into the world. You made my dream of marriage and fatherhood come true. I love you so much because you are so strong, even after you escaped your last relationship. I knew you were going to be my wife the second we bumped into each other," says Steve.

"Yeah, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I was too busy making sure the papers that Tony gave me were in order," you say.

"Being the gentlemen you were, you stopped to help me pick them up and you looked like a little lost puppy trying to navigate a new world in a new place," you say.

"You were the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," you say.

You and Steve kiss each other lovingly. This feels amazing because Steve is doing his best to make you feel beautiful again, even though you're tired, you feel frumpy, and you can't even remember when was the last time you showered or even brushed your teeth.

You and Steve continue like this for a while. Bucky and Natasha order Chinese for everyone. You all eat your dinner, and Bucky and Natasha stay the night in case you both need anything.

You and Steve fall asleep in each other's arms. After a while, James cries, needing a feeding, then cries again an hour later, needing a change. You feed James, and Steve changes his diaper.

The love between you and Steve was special and beautiful. James even added more love between the both of you and he added even more love to the Rogers household.

It was the best Valentine's day ever! Next year, you and Steve would be celebrating James' first birthday.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

A Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (2) Loki arranges a meeting, and you're offered the opportunity of a lifetime (w/c 4.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Thirsting for unattainable royals. Language. Heavy petting. Ridiculous Asgardian HC lore. Smuttish.

This morning the palace criers announced mandatory palace court attendance for all of Asgard.

Word travels fast, you muse as another person shoves into your shoulder; especially when the Odinsons will be in full ceremonial dress.

A swell ripples through the crowd, pulsing forward. Only one row of people stand in front of you, and the guards lining the jostling mass are becoming impatient.

You always make an effort for these events; everyone does. However bland and self-aggrandising the subject matter (and with the Allfather, when is it not?) – one never knows who’ll attention you’ll draw. But this time, it’s different.

This time, as you fixed your hair and let your solitary maid tighten the laces of your dress – there was only one person you wanted to impress. Him. Because this time, for the first time, he may actually notice you.

But that’s madness, you think as you try and focus. His lovers are legendary. He has his pick of…anyone. Literal deities.

But then, the memory of Prince Loki’s glistening chest emerging from the palace baths with wet hair plastered over his brow as he grunted through his orgasm erupts in your mind. That’s a memory not easily forgotten. In fact, it’s very easily encouraged. And each time you think of it, more layers appear.

In the extended, delusional version, he crosses the pool, the lapping water licking around his proud cock snug to his stomach as he wages a path to cage you by the stone edge and—

Trumpets blare. “They’re here,” a woman beside you squeals. Her hand flies to yours, clawing with unhinged excitement. The guards straighten, spears thudding against marble in ceremonial greeting.

He probably does that shit all the time; wanking in the palace baths with people he doesn’t know. He won’t see you amongst thousands of faces. That’s madness. But when it came to Loki Odinson, didn’t that make it more likely? Nerves tighten your stomach. The glint of their ostentatious headwear is the first sign of approach; two small figures against the expanse of the ancient doors floor to ceiling of the hall. Cheers thunders like a burst dam through a canyon as they move in sync down the wide aisle, each set of guards they pass thunking their staff in salute. Each thud made your pussy clench. And finally, you catch sight of his face.

It's the picture of haughty expectation at the wild crowds losing their minds as he passes. Every slice and draw of his bone structure is set like marble. He’s above it all; stunning decorative armour that would be absolutely no use in battle accenting broad shoulders at sharp angles. Impeccable posture, as ever. Today, the prince wears full leathers beneath – ridiculously fitted trousers which melded seamlessly to a forest green tunic stitched in golden trim.

To complete the act of war that’s his outfit, a stiff collar cut to the curve of his jawline sweeps up to his earlobes; a solitary curl of ebony hair lying against the leather, freed from his helmet. Thor wears the same red and garish gold he always does, beaming greedily at the crowds.

Your eyes roam over Loki’s sweeping entrance and you smile to yourself that the last time you’d seen him – he’d been naked. The woman beside you begins to breathe heavily as they draw closer. You have no idea, you smirk.

Loki’s cape billows with theatrical elegance down the open aisle, and you wonder briefly if his magic has something to do with it. Thor’s certainly doesn’t flutter around his ankles with the same effortless gravitas. Thor’s doesn’t undulate with every stride, timed with the military precision of its master’s thighs.

The guard in front of you lifts his spear, ready to thrust it to the marble floor. You hold your breath, biting your lip, their glory radiating with each falling step. And then, time seems to stop. Because then, Loki, Prince of Asgard, looks at you. His eyes flicker to the side, narrowing softly in your direction. A low dimple in his cheek flashes, only for a moment. And then - -thunk

The metal clang makes you jump out your skin, and by the time you get your bearings, the princes have moved on. They each face the platform, sinking on one knee with bowed heads while Odin pats down the cheers. He begins to rumble on, something about war, or tradition or blah blah.

The dark prince’s jawline is a work of art as he kneels in performatively rapt attention. With each swallow, his cheekbones flash. The golden helmet highlights the harsh lines of his face, lids dropping every few minutes as he struggles not to roll his eyes. You smile.

“Oh that’s good,” the woman beside you hums. You frown at her, concentration broken. It was her turn to frown. She shakes her head, gazing back to Odin. “Thor reached a treaty with Muspelheim.”

The next hour passes slowly, and for once, you’re grateful. When Odin stops, it’s the Crown Prince’s turn to regale the audience of thousands with his diplomatic success. Only half-listening, you use the time to your advantage, perving on Loki kneeling on the polished floor with those long, pale fingers clasped around one knee. When the dark prince stands, the rest of the high-nobles do the same. He whips his cape back, allowing the crowd a gratuitous view of his muscular ass and thighs flexing beneath tight leather while he unfurls. Loki’s imperious eyes scan the heaving crowd with an air of disdain. The look rolls like a sea wind, cold and unforgiving until you feel its weight land on you.

You’re pinned by that stare as plainly as though it’s his hands; his body. Goosebumps ripple beneath your dress. I see you, he mouths silently, subtly, before his gaze falls on his brother once more.

The royal family wave a final time before slipping to the doors at the back of the Great Hall. Loki’s attention hadn’t fallen upon you again, but the waiting. The anticipation; it was exhausting.

Around you, the bustle of a thousand conversations grows to a roar. The front rows of the crowd begin to file out and follow the same path the royal family had taken through the golden doors. High-court, only. Friends and family, that sort of thing. A huge curtain hangs behind the throne, buffeting gently from some unseen breeze. It’s a rich amber with threads of green and red and blue, shimmering patterns that no mortal fingers could accomplish woven over centuries, millennia even.

Gods, noted warriors and chancellors all dutifully bow to the empty throne before circling around the platform and disappearing behind the curtain. On their way to a feast, no doubt.

A set of bird-like fingers wrap around your wrist. With a yank you pull it away, whipping round to see the expectant face of a young boy.

“Get out of here,” you snarl. Pickpockets are rife at these sorts of things. The boy stares. Puberty hadn’t darkened a shadow on his skin, and despite his age, he was un-phased by the abruptness.

“You are requested,” he says, bored eyes searching your face. People jostle by your shoulders in annoyance. “By who?” you scoff. They’d try anything these days.

The boy tugs your hand. “Requested,” he says again as though it explains everything, turning and pulling you earnestly towards the line of guards. With a single glance at an insignia on his tunic, they part for him.

You traipse behind him at pace, clutching long skirts in one fist while eyes in the crowd follow you down the marble aisle against the sea of people and behind the mysterious curtain. “Name?” a voice grunts.

You look from the back of the boy’s head to the bulky figure in front of you. He’s dressed in robes of scarlet, the hint of a dagger’s hilt beneath a thick belt. A wiry red beard hangs down his chest, resting on a buckle of black steel. “I know you not…” he sneers slowly. “No names,” the boy snaps. He barely came up to the gatekeeper’s stomach. “She’s been requested.” The gatekeeper’s face crumples and his eyes dart to the emblem on the boy’s chest before standing aside, holding his tongue.

The youth gestures with his head to follow him, and you do…. down a short corridor flooded with buttery light. Delicate jangling of lutes and laughter ring to ornate cloisters, a glittering view of Asgard below the balcony-walkway taking your breath away. “Hurry,” the boy snips without a backwards look. “Master is not a patient man.”

He claps his small hands three times and a set of golden doors at the end of the cloister swing open. Thor comes into view mid-conversation, still wearing his ceremonial armour, a goblet spilling over the sides clutched in one hand as he gesticulates wildly. There’s a rumble of polite laughter. Your hand shoots out, grabbing the boy’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mutter. He shoots a scathing glance over his shoulder, casting a salty look down to your feet and back again. “You have been—”

“—requested,” you finish petulantly. “Yeah, I know.”

Your ribs thrum as you walk through the doors, pulled by invisible hands. There can only be one person who harbours the desire to have you at this exclusive gathering. And even that’s beyond insanity. Has he mistaken you for someone else? The boy, that is. He’s a barely more than a child. You were about to ask where you should go, when you realise he’s gone. Casting a frantic look around the room it’s evident that familiar groups have already formed, jokes cracking in waves; picking at piles of nuts and fruit and meats. Frigga herself stands by an ornate silver trolley, ladling wine into a goblet while Lofn whispers in her ear. Your knees buckle slightly. There he is.

A small figure works through folds of silk and armoured angles to the back of the room. You follow him, before halting abruptly, steadying yourself against a table. The boy’s come to a stop in front of a shadowed figure, exchanging a conspiratorial nod. Loki Odinson claps him on the back, raising a goblet to his lips. He rests against a pillar, choosing to stay apart from the revels. Watching. Waiting. His eyes meet yours as he sips; dark and dangerous over a rim of gold. One brow twitches upwards in, you presume, greeting. Sweaty palms run slip the front of your dress and you fight the sudden urge to run. It’s pale blue, the finest you own. Which isn’t saying much. The same colour as his eyes, you realise.

The Prince lowers the goblet, cocking his head. He’s still adorned with the ensemble his part in the day’s festivities required save one, the helmet. Dark curls spill freely over the shoulders of the cape fastened to guards beneath, intricate folds of fabric worked to perfection.

He raises a hand, forefinger beckoning twice in subtle succession before lowering it again. Just like the baths, you think with a shameful thrill. Your gaze darts to faces you’ve only seen in paintings around the court as you glide over, trying to look like you belong - but no one bats an eye. Loki unhooks one foot from behind the other, nudging himself off the column. Leather boots gape teasingly around his calves. You wonder, if you beg like a common trollop, if he would fuck you wearing those boots. Only those boots—

“You’re not wearing green,” the Prince drawls. You open your mouth and close it again, irritatingly mute while his blue irises smoulder. “Usually they wear green.” You press your lips together, collecting yourself. “Who?” “Those trying to bed me,” Loki says.

“I’m not trying to—” The prince waves a dismissive hand. “—Catch my attention, then.”

You feel your cheeks heat under scrutiny, a very obvious swallow working its way down your throat. “I don’t know what you mean your Highness,” you say. “You summoned me.”

“Indeed, I did. So I imagine I must have a very good reason,” the Prince murmurs. He brings the pad of a fingertip to his lower lip, brushing it across the skin as you stand in silent bemusement. “Loki! Did you send for a jester? What fun!” You inhale sharply as Fandral slides into view beside your shoulder. His hair is on point this evening, a lush wave cresting over his forehead and swept to the side as his eyes trail to your feet and back to your face. “Oh, my mistake. Just someone getting a little a carried away with the rouge, it seems.” Your stomach tightens. “I’m leaving, your Highness,” you say with a lacklustre bow and a bitter taste in your mouth. “But you do not have my permission,” Loki growls quietly. His feet come into view on the floor and you raise your head, inhaling the sweet breath from his lungs clouding your lips. “More wine, Loki?” Fandral asks brightly, already pouring into Loki’s goblet. The prince’s eyes don’t leave yours, but his mouth hardens.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” he asks through gritted teeth. Fandral looks at you with mock-surprise. “Oh yes, most recent conquest is it? Come for a peek behind the gilded curtain before you’re sent back to the depths of banality? I thought he’d run out of new faces.” He winks; it makes your stomach churn.   “She’s not a conquest,” Loki says, hovering the goblet by his lips. “Not one of mine, anyway.”

Your eyes dart to his and catch them narrow slightly. Fandral looks genuinely confused. “Well, what then? Why is she here? Who is she?”

Suddenly there’s a loud crash to the side. Thor stumbles against the table laden with wine-soaked pears and pastries and mounds of tartlets, knocking a pile of cold meats to the ground. He wobbles after them, kneeling on the floor and beginning to pick them off the stones as if they were jewels. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” Loki mutters, and you feel the gentle pressure of a hand on your waist. “Walk with me,” he urges in your ear and a shudder rolls down your spine.

“Loki?” Fandral calls as the figures around you start to blur and the Prince manoeuvres you through the crowd like a feather. “Loki, I must speak to you about the…matter, I’ll…later. Yes, later. Quite.” A wall of fresh air skates over your skin. You hadn’t realised how warm it was inside. The two of you come to a stop at the wall of the balcony, nails skimming against polished marble. Loki clears his throat.

“I apologise for Fandral he’s…” Loki looks up from beneath his lashes, a performative sheepishness softening his face, “well, himself.” You stifle a laugh, focusing on the edge of the moonlit waterfalls in the distance. Silence hangs between you, made louder by the jumbled festivities inside. “Why am I here, Prince Loki?” you whisper, not daring to look at him. “If it’s about what happened in the baths, I won’t tell a soul I swear—” “—It’s not.” Irritation begins to brew in your stomach. “Well then Fandral has a point. Why am I here? I’m no one.” “Exactly.” A prickle of heat rises up your neck, stinging your ears. “Am I a joke to you, your Highness?”

Loki’s eyes flashing in moonlight, but he says nothing. It stings.

“You bring me here to make a fool out of me in front of your friends? In front of Frigga? Frigga.” “I needed to see if any of them knew you.” Loki’s voice is eerily calm, his gaze as unflinching as a cliff jutting into night. “And clearly, they do not. Fandral would recognise you if they did; that little fishwife knows absolutely everything.” “Why would they know me? And what does it matter?” “It matters a great deal. To me, at least. And to you, perhaps.” You push a strand of hair back from your forehead, hating that its damp. The skin feels hot. Hot and flustered and clammy with embarrassment and…shit, arousal. Can he tell?

Black strings of lax curl blow gently around Loki’s jawline, pale lips stained with wine. “Tell me, my Lady…have you heard of the Rite of Successional Pleasure?” he asks, and suddenly all other noise vanishes from your ears save the hum of his voice.

Loki’s eyes run down the blue chiffon of your robe, wondering if he could peel it off and cast it skating across the stone with a solitary swipe of his hand. Allowing you a moment to collect yourself, he decides that yes, he could. “Surely just a legend, my Prince…” you answer demurely, busying your hands and staring off into the distance as an unmistakable waft of heat courses from your bare neckline. He licks his lips, feeling a smirk curl the corners.

“Aren’t we all?” he purrs. Their eyes meet. “I assure you it is very real. A relic, to be sure. But real enough. And I require a partner to enact this Rite, else my succession to Asgard’s throne will not be entrenched in law. I have waited too long as it is, as I keep being reminded.”

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

Loki straightens. He hadn’t taken you for a dullard, but he does appreciate the delayed gratification of enthusiasm at the proposal. Loki can hear your heart thud faster; he wonders how much of that blood is flushing to your sex beneath the gown billowing about your ankles. You glance at him and quickly look away. It makes Loki’s stomach twist. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps events in the bath-house were simply…opportunity. Or worse, fear. You clear your throat. “What is it, exactly? The Rite of Successional…” “—Pleasure,” Loki finishes abruptly. He rolls his shoulders back, steadying the flurry of unwelcome nerves in his chest.

“One of my family’s farcical traditions. When Asgard’s twin moons are in perfect equilibrium within the heavens, once every half millennia – eligible members of the royal family suitable for rule must, in order to be considered for finite succession, perform the Rite.” “Which is?”

Loki’s eyes fall down the curve of your neck, hovering on your moist lips. He’d thought of nothing else in the days since the bath-house; those lips sucked between his teeth, stretching around his cock; swollen and wet and…

“Pleasure.” It comes out sterner than intended. “To be given, only. A king must not just be skilled in diplomacy, in combat, in war and sacrifice, but in giving pleasure,” he says, imitating the cadence of his father’s voice with a caricatural wave of his hand. “How else can Asgard’s citizens know we are to be trusted, to be benevolent, if is not documented in the annals?”

“You can’t be serious,” you say. “I thought it was a joke, like the other things.” “Contrary to belief, I can be very serious indeed, little owl,” Loki replies with a smile. It fades. The weight of the pet name plucked from nowhere hangs in the air like smoke as you fidget with a fold of your dress. Gods, how he hates that it’s blue. “I still don’t see what it has to do with me,” you posture meekly. Loki tenses, words hissing between his teeth. “Bifrost’s blood, woman. I’m asking you to be my partner for the Rite. Must I carve it in stone?”

The widen of your eyes makes his stomach flutter and you attempt a clumsy curtsey which makes Thor’s staggered collapse among the strewn meats look elegant. “I…I don’t know what to…I—” Suddenly, you look up. “Is it witnessed?” “Of course.” Horror blossoms in your eyes. “Oh…it’s very tasteful,” Loki says, inspecting his nails. “Much more so than the Ceremony of the Sacred Seed, I assure you. It relies more on…aural methods. For the most part.”

“I’ve never been invited to that,” you reply absently, and Loki notes that your fingers have curled around his wrist armour, steadying yourself. “When is the…the moon thing?” “Five nights from now,” he says, and your jaw drops. “I understand I’ve left it rather late, but I really am in rather a bind.” The irony of him practically begging this unknown woman of the court to bring her the greatest ecstasy she’s ever know wasn’t lost on Loki, but for the moment at least…he decides to restrain his natural urge to remind her of that fact.

“Your reputation will only be enhanced, I assure you,” he adds. “It’s a great honour. And I am, if I may say, quite renowned for my skill in that department.” “Why me?” she asked. And there it was. He grimaced. “Don’t lie to me,” she added bravely, and his grimace deepened. “The Rite will only be valid if the recipient has never known the touch of a god. Or, more specifically their…essence. Our essences must never have touched each other. The punishment is severe; there are tomes and everything; rules…how I loathe them,” he says, offering a weak smile. Realisation blossoms in your eyes. “And…I’m afraid my roster has been rather full these past centuries.” A small laugh erupts from your throat that makes it incredibly difficult not to shut you up with his mouth. “Surely you can’t have fucked everyone in the high-court?”

Loki bit back a laugh of his own. “Rather brazen, aren’t you?” he says, narrowing his eyes. “Regrettably, my options in that circle are limited to Fandral. And I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to give him the satisfaction he most desperately desires; it’s far too much fun tormenting him.” You raise an eyebrow and Loki scoffs, smoothing a curl back. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I know what they must say about me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, your Highness,” you say with a conspiratorial smile.

“Liar,” Loki replies softly. The sparkle of your mischief fades, and he finds he immediately misses it. “So, I’m…a last resort, then?” “Somewhat, yes.” You bristle, goosebumps rising along your bare arms in the evening chill. Loki watches them flare, fighting the urge to soothe them with his fingertips. Another eruption of his brother’s drunken laughter bounces from the archways.

“What happened in the baths,” she says, eyeing him warily. “Wouldn’t that count? Wouldn’t your…uh, essence have…travelled?”

A small noise scratches from Loki’s throat. “Far too diluted. Fortunately…we were rather far apart.” She moves a step closer, looking up at him beneath her lashes. Her scent makes his mouth water. “And besides, if memory serves you made rather a hasty exit.” “If I agree to this, what’s in it for me?” you ask with a coolness he isn’t expecting. He frowns. “Aside from the obvious?” You shoot him a scathing glare. “You’ll be an honoured guest of Asgard’s highest echelons until the ceremony; luxurious quarters, the finest garments…yours to keep, naturally. A feast in your honour, the honour of my escort, a place in Asgard’s history, and of course…my eternal thanks.” He waits until you turn fractionally towards him before deploying a calculated wink. Your expression is stamped with suspicion, and yet he sees the intrigue nestled beneath the veneer of resistance. He’s not surprised when you shuffle closer, glancing over your shoulder. “Is there um…practice, involved?” Loki feels his brows shoot up. “Practice? Norns haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Our…”

He whips his cape as he spins, eyeing over his shoulder, catching the glint of Fandral’s flaxen hair hovering by the feasting table. “Our evidence of arousal cannot be in contact before the Rite…not a single drop, lest the entire ceremony be declared null and my honour as a successor questioned.” “Right,” you say stiffly. “Of course.” He can feel the heat of embarrassment radiating from your skin.

You need her, fool. Loki clears his throat with a dry rattle. “But we may…get to know each other. That is expected, at least. If you agree, of course.” You turn to him, eyes shimmering in moonlight. Loki wonders again how he could possibly have missed such a rare jewel in the drab sameness of Asgard’s court. He straightens as your finger runs over the metal at his wrist, trailing up the hem of his cape. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” you ask. A thick swallow works down his throat, his trousers tightening as you add, “What do the rules say about that?” Suddenly it feels as though he could be three-hundred again, unfamiliar nerves sizzling in his belly like fire. “I…there is no impediment to that particular act, no.” “Don’t you think it would be wise to…make sure we’re compatible before you make such a momentous decision?” A flush creeps up Loki’s neck above the high collar of his tunic as the clink of goblets and laughter continue inside the archway and he’s thankful for darkness. A muscle in his jawline twitches, fingers clenching and unclenching by his sides. There it was again, that audacity. So wilful, and yet…

In a flash his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you back with him into shadow. He slips a hand around your back, cushioning your spine as you meet rough stone with a gasp. Your sultry eyes look up at him with manufactured innocence.

“Let’s spare ourselves the virginal theatrics,” he hums, drawing his nose up the line of your cheekbone. The shiver that racks your body makes the toes in his boots curl. “You will be my partner for this sacred Rite?” You catch his lips with the brush of an autumn breeze, grazing against the words. The scent of you overwhelms him; a deep forest tang with overtures of a fragrant sweetness he can’t place.

He groans into the kiss, hungrier with every work of his mouth against the reach of your tongue. Loki’s hands slide up the swell of your breasts, each moan shivering from your throat into his making him want to explode.

As your fingers card through his hair, he realises the other hand is working down the harsh wall of tunic, sliding down his abdomen, hungry for the engorged lust strapped to his hip. There is a barrier, he thinks wildly, tempering his fear. There is a barrier. You squeeze. “Norns, woman…” he growls between gritted teeth, steadying a forearm against the wall behind your head as his gnawing kisses work down your neck. Stone veins spread in crunching crackles under the pressure. “Loki,” you gasp beneath him, bucking into the press of his armour into your endless curves. The realisation he can’t sate it hits with sudden, unwelcome clarity.

“Far too familiar,” he chides against your ear with a feigned derision that makes another moan snake from your throat. Loki’s cock throbs harder. “I remain your Prince, and you will address me as such.” You crush his lips with a kiss full of such desire Loki thinks he might shatter. His cock rubs against your stomach, harsh friction sending jolts of pleasure lancing through his body and suddenly, you break from him with a pant. “Do you want to know my name now, my Prince?”

His saliva rings your mouth; lips swollen and puffed. He nods twice, keeping his chin low on the second as his eyes flutter closed as you lean to his ear, whispering the word. Now that he knows it, he can’t imagine it being anything else.

“…and I’m no one’s last resort, not even a god,” you say, meeting his eyes. Loki steps back, jaw hardening as you smooth down the front of your dress. “I didn’t mean to imply—” “—Well, you did. So, if this still seems like a good idea in the morning, I expect to see you again under less…crowded circumstances.” Loki bit back the urge to protest, but as much as he was loathe to admit it…she had a point. Preparations for the Rite were usually conducted over months, and as he widened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back, a familiar coiffured sheaf of golden hair glinted and disappeared with suspicious urgency. “Unless you’d rather partake with Fandral?”

Loki’s stomach flips but he swallows down the urge to answer. “You’re familiar with my apprentice?” he asks. You nod. “He shall come for you at noon tomorrow.” A small smile flickers at your glistening lips. “Very well, your Highness,” you say, sinking into a curtsey that makes Loki’s cock ache before rising and gliding towards the open archway. He rolls his lips together, fighting the urge to follow you – but he’s already shown his hand too heavily tonight.

As you pass through the arch, Thor wobbles in the other direction, casting a quizzical glance backwards. “There you are, brother,” he slurs, slumping onto the balcony. His arm makes a heavy gesture towards the party, swinging wildly. “She is the one?” Loki bristles. “Yes, brother.”

“Finally. Norns preserve us, I thought you’d never make it. You know she is not suitable for the ceremony if she has been...sampled, already?” he asks as both eyebrows rise. Loki scoffs and throws his brother an incredulous stare. “I know that,” he snarls. “What do you take me for, some kind of rube?” Thor sighs, picking a slice of cured boar from his breastplate and dangling into his mouth. “Let’s hope you can satisfy her, then – in every way. For all our sakes.” Loki’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “If you can scrape past the requirements, we both know I shall have no issue.” “Mmm,” his brother hums. “If it wasn’t for the other matter her response will be measured on.”

“It’s all in hand, brother,” he lies, ignoring the thump of his heart, watching the bob of your head as you wind between intoxicated council members towards the door. “Five moons is more than enough time for that.” And beside him, Thor snorts.

Chapter Three: Measurement The Masterlist for the Rite is here Tags in comments (≧ヮ≦) 💕

[plscallmeeren]

H E A D C A N O N S

Loki Laufeyson / Odinson x Reader

Request: no just feeling in love

Summary: completely mixed batch of romantic headcanons including fluff, smut and some toxic things that would probably come into play at some point

Warnings: some general sexual stuff but nothing rough lol; mentions of extreme jealousy etc

Word Count: about 1K

He loves recommending books to you and talking about them afterward. It used to be him accidentally gushing about a book (usually poetry or fairy tales) and at some point you just started reading them without him knowing. Eventually he gave up on keeping the titles secret.

At first he was put off when you weren't too submissive during sex, but he adopted the "treat her like a Queen" idea and now, without diminishing his own pride, he looks forward to worshipping you every day.

He loves dancing - spinning you around the room, slow steps, but very close - anything. If you are in a room filled with of people he can show you off, but alone it is just as intimate.

When he's insecure, he can revert to considering himself superior. You generally let him be aloof for a while before addressing the problem directly, but it's a struggle every time to make him admit why he has low self esteem.

He has a treasured copy of Nordic fairy tales with beautiful illustrations that he shows only you. He lets you tenderly flip the pages, in awe at wonders like forest fairies, nymphs, glamorous witches and hags alike. Not like Thor, that 'oaf'.

One night, you sat on the edge of the your shared bed, legs bare, teasing him for how desperately he wanted you. He knelt before you, whispering "please", kissing his way up from your ankle to your thigh on one leg.

Loki hates it when she is a woman and is handles awkwardly at first. You have a habit of immediately talking to her or circling an arm around her waist when she enters the room so that she can't worry to the point of turning back into a male body.

He loved hearing his name from your lips as he pleasures you: "Loki, Loki, Loki". It is only right for a god to be subject to whispered prayer.

He makes fun of/critiques Thor a lot, but in quieter moments he loves telling childhood stories and Thor's adventures. On darker days he will ask whether you're sure you wouldn't prefer Thor - after all, everyone else did.

He lives to kiss you. It sounds dopey, but anywhere, anytime, in front of everyone - kissing you on the lips, on your neck, hair, chest, arms, especially hands. Anything to taste you, to feel as close as possible.

She feels particularly sound in her own body when you fuck her as a woman. When she's spread out before you, bare, there's no hiding who she is, and you are more than happy to ravage her as much as their common body.

Loki doesn't need much sleep. At night, he sometimes feels lonely and yearns for the halls of Asgard. He cries quietly in bed, careful not to wake you. Some days, he retreats to the library and sobs, cries absorbed by surrounding stories.

Tea. Tea. Tea. Always. And every time he makes a cup for himself, you get one, too. He knows your favourites and which ones you like at what time of day.

He writes you letters. Love letters full of poems - some of his own hand and others quoted - and confessions. Every swooping letter is drawn with careful precision, every reference a new find from the library in honour of you. Such a hopeless romantic. When you write such letters back, leaving them with him before he wakes, he almost sheds tears of bliss.

If you have tattoos or scars or burns - anything of the like - he will trace them, stare at them as he comes, turned on endlessly by every unique mark on your body. All his. No one else knows every freckle like him.

He is possessive. He always has been, and as much as you try and calm him and prevent jealousy... sometimes he yells at you for talking to someone else too much. Sometimes he whispers that you have betrayed him like his father. Sometimes you find him searching through your things; what for, you will never know.

Loki loves your laugh, and he will do the most ridiculous things to earn it. Before knowing you, he would have considered every antic and joke beneath him and embarrassing, but he hardly cares anymore. That is, until Thor laughs so loud from beside you that he can't hear anything at all.

Stargazing. He points out every constellation, knows every myth - some are inspired by people he knows.

He reads to you. He takes you on surprise picnics and plans fancy evenings.

He loved how you see through his lies and tall tales, but take him seriously or laugh anyway. Every one of them has a grain of truth, after all, and it doesn't make him untrustworthy.

He doesn't really swear, but secretly likes it when you sound harsh talking to others.

Loki will talk about your future all the time, especially after making love, rambling on about your house, lifestyle, garden, parties.

You talk for hours at once, incorrigible.

No one can calm him down like you. The moment you touch his arm when he's yelling at Thor or anyone else, it ceases, but he sometimes pretends to be angry a bit longer, just enough to get to your room and keep his pride in front of the others.

Loki loves you. Selflessly. Eternally. Insatiably.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

candy girl 6

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: as you’re about to take the next step with your boyfriend, doubts begin to arise. (short!plus!reader)

Characters: Thor (boyfriend’s dad/silverfox)

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself. <3

You can hear Thor following you as you storm down the pavement. You cover your face as your horror overflows in choking sobs. You’ve never hurt like this before. The pain is so deep you could crumple to the ground then and there. 

He grabs softly at your hand as he tries to stop you, “little one.” 

“Please, let me go,” you beg as you tear away from him, nearly tripping, “oh god, I can’t believe--” 

“Shh, shhh, please, breathe,” he grasps your wrist firmly and stops you, “it’s late, I can’t let you go running off into the dark.” 

“I’ll find a bus,” you insist, “please, I--” you face him and heave, “how could he do this to me?” You babble and use your free hand to mop your cheeks, “how could I ever think he wanted me?” 

“Oh, dear,” he sweeps you into a hug before you can stop him. “It isn’t that. He is wrong. He is... I am ashamed to call him my son.” 

You want to resist. You know you should but his embrace is soothing. The sound of his heart beat as he pulls your head to his chest keeps yours from racing. You hug him back and sniffle. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, “but he is your son.” 

“And?” He rubs your back and rocks you, “it doesn’t mean I condone this behaviour. I’ve been soft on him too long.” 

His words drift into the cool night air as you cling to him. He’s warm against the chill. You shudder out a breath as the silence roils with tension. His hand stills and crawls up to the back of your head as he slowly parts. He looks down at you as he holds you at arm’s length. 

“You will stay. Just for the night so I know you are safe,” he says. 

“I can’t--” 

“Yes, you can,” he drags his touch down your neck and arm and takes your hand, “come.” 

“Mr. Odinson,” you plead as he tugs you back towards his house. 

“Thor,” he corrects swiftly, “trust me, just this once.” 

You can’t argue. He’s already done so much. Your car, the tip, you feel as if you owe him. Even in this circumstance. 

He takes you up the front steps. Your reluctance weighs down your steps and he coaxes you forward. He hushes you again as he takes you through the front door and stops you just short of the staircase. 

“You will go to my room, right at the end of the hall,” he points as he turns to you, “lock the door for now.” 

“Thor, what’s going on? What are you going to do?” You squeak. 

“What I should’ve done long ago.” 

“Are you...” 

“He is my son, I wouldn’t harm him, yet he has hurt you. He has made a habit of using people, not only you but myself, his brother, his mother... it cannot stand,” he declares, “please, go, I shouldn’t like him to see you, in case he does choose violence. We both know his temper.” 

Your mouth falls open and you look past him then to the stairs, “you don’t have to... for me.” 

“It is right. He is not a child anymore. It is a lesson overdue for many years. I cannot help but blame myself for your pain so let me try at least to atone,” he squeezes your shoulder then nods to the stairs, “please.” 

You lower your lashes and turn to climb the stairs. You stop at the top to peek back again. He looms. You continue on and find your way to his room. You shut the door but cannot move away from it. 

You flick on the light. His room is painted a deep shade of evergreen. The wooden floor is dark and smooth, with a rug beneath the large four-postered bed. A king-size with a thick frame built of square planks. There’s a desk by the window and a chair of the same heavy wood as the bed. A large wardrobe stands opposite with a houserobe hung from the slightly ajar door. 

You turn to the door and press yourself to it. You can hear his footsteps below. It happens all at once, muffled but decisive. Magni’s door swings open and hits the wall, Something falls over, probably that table you told him was too close. 

Then a girl’s yelp and deep timbres. An argument you can only make pieces out of. Their voices rise higher and get clearer as you hear them moving. The front door opens and snaps shut again. They’re still yelling. Oh god, what do you do? 

You can only listen as the tempest blows below. There’s movement too, some banging and slamming. Footsteps back and forth. It lasts forever. Your chest is about to split open. You hear Thor’s voice as clear as if he’s right beside you. 

“Get out,” he demands. 

The front door opens again and you hold your breath. There’s a strange cracking noise before feet stomp outside and across the porch. You scurry to the window to look out. Magni’s shadow stalks angrily through the dark, the outline of his knapsack crooked over his back. 

You retreat and pace around the room. Waiting. The house falls back into silence and you hear Thor climbing the stairs. He sighs and it drifts toward the door. You face it as he knocks from the other side.  

“Hi,” you utter dumbly. 

He slowly twists the knob and peeks around the door, “he’s gone.” 

You gasp as you see his face. There’s a split across the bridge of his nose. Your fear subsides in the wake of concern. 

“What happened?” You rush forward as he lets the door fall all the way open. 

He won’t look at you. 

“Ah, he was caught offguard is all,” Thor rubs the back of his neck. 

“He hit you?” You stop before him, looking up tremulously. 

“I’m glad it was me and no one else,” he intones. “If you weren’t here, I can’t say I’d have left him in one piece.” 

“Oh,” you whimper. 

“I don’t mean to scare you,” he shakes his head. 

“Your bleeding,” you say as his nose drips red. 

“Ah, I thought I’d stopped it,” he presses his knuckle to his nose. 

“Here, let me help, um,” you look around and rush over to the en suite bathroom. You dip inside as you hear his uncertain steps in the bedroom. You return to him, “er, can you sit? I can’t reach.” 

“Of course, little one,” he sits on the bed and drops his hand. You unravel toilet paper from the roll and fold it into a square. You raise it to dab his nose gently. 

“Does it hurt too much? Is this too rough?” You ask. 

“Not even close,” he assures. His blue eyes sparkle at you. The way he watches you makes you sweat. 

You stare at the split higher up his nose over the cartilage, “do you think it’s broken?” 

“He had it crooked but I put it back,” Thor chuckles. 

“Oh,” your frown. 

“I can take it,” he says, “I’m so disappointed...” he flicks his lashes down, “to think I could raise a heathen like that. Someone who would hurt you.” He winces and reaches to take the toilet paper from you, “I’ve got it.” 

You retract your hand as he presses the tissue to his nose. You clutch the roll and sway nervously.  

“Where’s he gone?” You ask. 

“It isn’t my problem,” he growls, “the idiot. How could he not see--” He stops and looks at you, agonized, “you don’t deserve that. What you said before, it isn’t true. You are easy to want, little one, but he is young and arrogant.” 

You bite into your lip at the unexpected compliment. You can’t help but think he only says so because it’s what he’s meant to say. Everyone’s nice to the broken hearted. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t care either,” you resign. You look him over and your chest pangs. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?” 

“Oh, no, I should be asking you,” he stands. “First, let’s get you settled. Modi’s old room should do, I think.” 

[the-iceni-bitch]

𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕲𝖔 𝖀𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖘, 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖆𝖒 𝕴 𝕾𝖚𝖕𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝕾𝖆𝖞?

𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝙾𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚐𝚎. 𝚂𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛.

𝙰𝚕𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊 ~ 𝙰 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛

Relationship: merman (havmand) Thor Odinson c princess!reader

Words: ~2.2k

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal and anal sex, size difference, multiple orgasms, double penetration), pet names, dub-con, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: I know it’s not October or 2023 anymore, but let’s not all about that. Let’s just talk about the fact that Thor is big and beefy and has two dicks.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all my fics, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library .

You felt as though you didn’t have any tears left to cry while you stayed curled up in your bed. You could still hear your mother shouting at you through your door, though it did seem as though she was finally walking away as her voice was getting quieter. Perhaps she was finally going to leave you alone.

The thought of having to leave your home made you sob again in spite of your lack of tears. Leaving the sea and the cliffs you were used to and having to be surrounded by mountains sounded like torture. You needed the sound of the waves crashing against the towering rocks and the smell of the salt air as the wind carried its spray against your face. What were you supposed to do with the scent of snow and pine?

At some point your eyes drifted closed, and when you opened them again it was the middle of the night. The moon was reflecting off the sea below your window. You rubbed your eyes as you rose to your feet to open it, sighing at the scent of brine and frozen air made goosebumps rise on your skin. Another hour passed with you just staring at the ocean, the movement of the waves and the silvery light of the moon stirring something deep inside you. That was when you made your decision. You couldn’t be the wife to some king in a frozen, rocky wasteland. The sea was your life, it meant everything to you.

Your dressing gown slid to the floor so you were standing in nothing but your shift. A few steadying breaths were all you needed before you climbed out of your window and found purchase on the notches in the stone wall of your tower that you had scrambled down so many times before. Even though it was slick from the spray and starting to get icy, you still made it down in one piece. It was freezing, but it made you feel alive.

As soon as you reached solid ground you didn’t hesitate, running the few meters to the cliff’s edge and diving off into the empty air. Wind whipped around you for the perhaps three seconds before you entered the water and the shock of cold forced all of the breath from your lungs. There was no time to adjust, though, you had to start swimming. You breathed deeply when you resurfaced, your limbs fighting against the brutal push and pull of the waves as you made your way to deeper waters.

Every time your body was rocked by the waves your breath caught in your throat. It was like the sea was calling your name, desperately trying to pull you under and make you one with its murky depths. If you didn’t have a goal in mind you may have let it, but your eyes were fixed on the massive rock that rose from the waves a few miles from the coast, the one that was almost an island unto itself. His rock.

You were almost there when something wrapped around your waist and pulled you under the waves, making you scream as seawater burned your throat.

“Do not scream, kjæreste,” the sound of his voice immediately soothed you, your face tucking perfectly into Thor’s neck when he rolled onto his back and carried you towards the rock that was his home above the sea, “swimming in the middle of the night, there are far more dangerous things then I that rise from the depths at this hour, little princess.”

“I don’t care,” even in the freezing cold water he was warm, as was his smile when you peeked up at him through your lashes. “It would be better than what my mother has planned for me.”

“She still intends to marry you to the inland princeling, then?” Thor lifted you onto the slick black stone and climbed up after you, hushing you when you immediately crawled into his arms and buried your face in his chest. “My sweet little princess, you haven’t even met the man, you may like him.”

“No I won’t,” you gave him a stubborn pout. “I need the sea, I need you. I love you, Thor.”

“Little one…” Thor kissed the top of your head when you pressed your body even closer to his. “You may or you may not, kjæreste. Give it time. When you have been married to your princeling for a few years it will pass.”

“Don’t say that!” Your wail was truly miserable, your tears falling freely as you looked up at Thor with a wretched expression. “I don’t want to marry him! I want to be with you! Don’t make me go back, please.”

“You do not realize what you are asking, princess.” Thor stroked your hair and let out a deep sigh. “You would never be able to go home. You would never see another human being for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t want anything except you.” You clambered so you were straddling his tail, running your fingers through his golden hair and grinding against his sheath. “Only you, Thor. You’re all I need.”

“You are such a tenacious little thing, I do not believe I could ever say no to you.” Thor pulled you close and kissed you deeply, groaning into your mouth as he felt his cocks sliding from their sheath and growing hard under your ass. “You must be sure though, little one. You must tell me now that you can give up your family, the land of your birth, and all of your friends to be mine. That you will stay true even when I must stay beneath the sea for weeks at a time. Can you promise me, kjæreste?”

You felt your lower lip starting to quiver as you gazed at him. Of course you would miss your family and your friends, and the thought of not seeing them ever again gave you pause. But you really did love Thor. He was like the sea brought to life, and you could no sooner live without him than you could the sea itself.

“I promise, Thor.” You moaned into his mouth and fluttered your eyes when he kissed you deeply, one of his large hands gripping the edge of your shift and dragging it up your hips. The fingers of his other hand were suddenly filling your mouth and you sucked on them greedily, making sure to soak them with your spit as they muffled the sound of your voice. “I love you.”

“And I love you, little princess.” Thor smiled warmly as he dragged his fingers out of your mouth and kissed you again, his tongue tracing the curves of your lips as he slipped his spit-soaked fingers between the cheeks of your ass and teased them over the satiny skin of your asshole. “Just remember to keep breathing for me.”

Even though you nodded you couldn’t help but choke on your tongue when suddenly both of the trembling holes between your legs were full of him; your pussy with one of his thick cocks and your ass with two of his fingers as he stretched you in preparation. He swallowed each pathetic, desperate noise that fell from your lips when he started to move, cooing softly when your cunt fluttered around him and your fingers gripped his hair at the base of his neck. It was exceptionally adorable how quickly you turned into a whimpering mess once he started to fuck you, but he found it endearing.

You were very quickly starting to fall under the same spell you always fell under once he was inside you, murmuring nonsense words in between your whimpers while you struggled to move your body on top of his. He was so big, he always made you feel so tiny but never more so than when the two of you were locked together like this. The way he stretched you open to take him was almost painful from the strain but you secretly loved it, and when he removed his fingers from your ass and replaced them with his second cock you couldn’t do more than let out a garbled scream of pleasure as an orgasm raged through your body.

Thor took control when your body succumbed to the unimaginable bliss he always inflicted on you, kissing you gently in a way that contrasted beautifully with the sudden sharp and brutal movements of his hips. You were lost in a warm, gray haze when he rolled the two of you so he was on top, mumbling when you felt the sharp scrape of his teeth along your jaw as he fucked into you with abandon. Even in your incoherent state you still rolled your body to meet his, your breasts pressed against the smooth plane of his chest and your fingers clawing across his back as they struggled to find purchase on his slick skin.

Even though he made his home in the arctic waters of your country, Thor was so warm. Slippery and warm and large all over. It was addictive, like bathing in the volcanic pools and hot springs you had enjoyed in your youth. But in truth they were nothing like having Thor fuck you. Both of his cocks seemed to fit inside you perfectly, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of your body until your own body was almost as slick as his. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once; cupping your breasts and squeezing your ass, gripping your hips and massaging your thighs. Then suddenly they were holding your face tenderly as he kissed all the breath from your body and fucked you so deep you could feel him in your throat.

When he ground against your clit you sobbed, your pussy fluttering wildly and your asshole clenching around each of his cocks as he kept moving faster and deeper. Your eyes stayed fixed on his even as they grew glassy and unfocused, your lips moving as though in a silent prayer as he growled into your mouth and began to thrust even more wildly. Thor’s lips trailed down your throat as you squirted and writhed against him, the low timbre of his voice vibrating your whole body and making everything even more intense.

You let him move your body however he pleased, putting up no resistance when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. When he bit your shoulder you just whined, shaking when the sudden sharp pain drew another climax from your exhausted body. It had never been like this before. It had always been intense and passionate but not like this. It was as though he was doing everything in his power to make his mark on you, and you were accepting it without protest.

All of your focus suddenly snapped to the sensations between your legs, one final, practically painful orgasm ripping through your body and making you scream so loudly the rock shook from the sound. And then his cocks were swelling and stretching you even wider and you could feel yourself about to pass out, the sudden warm rush of his cum into the deepest parts of you finally pushing over the edge into pitch black emptiness. Thor sighed as he watched your body sag and your eyes roll back in your head, smiling at you and gently cupping your cheek as you slid into unconsciousness. He took a few minutes to enjoy the sight of your sleeping form before carefully pulling out of you, chuckling when your pussy and asshole clenched around the emptiness and his seed dripped from your wide-stretched holes.

He pushed you into a corner near one of the steam vents to keep you warm while you slept, kissing your forehead before sliding back towards the sea and silently slipping into the water. It didn’t take him long at all to reach the murky depths, swimming through the algae as he sought the underwater cave he needed. Brunnhilde was there waiting for him, grinning wickedly as she flexed her tentacles around the stone she was reclining on and toyed with a brightly colored anemone. It was rare that she traveled this far north, but they’re kingdoms were friendly, and the sea witch would always be there for her friend and whatever assistance she could lend to his sinister ambitions.

“I take it your little princess gave her consent?” She chuckled darkly when he nodded, swirling her fingers through the cold water and sighing when it glowed with her magic. “How many have you collected now, seventeen?”

“Nineteen.” Thor found his own rock to rest against, burrowing his tail in the volcanic sand and beaming at his friend. “One for each of the rocks in the bay. Though I do find myself growing incredibly fond of this one.” A seahorse made the mistake of swimming too close to the havmand and he snarled as he snatched it from the water and ripped it in half with his teeth before chewing and swallowing. “If I sacrifice the others do you think you could work up a spell that might allow me to keep her?”

[thorsource]

"The stars are in the same places I left them. For all the time spent in your wilderness, no time here has passed. Yet all the same, I slept the All-Sleep... I return renewed... And that is all that is keeping thine head upon thy shoulders! What meant you by this game, Loki?"

IMMORTAL THOR #3

[howtheavengerswould]

how the avengers + peter would react...

𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝘼𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝘼 𝙈𝙄𝙎𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉.

Peter always wanted to go an a real, official mission. He doesn't even care if you've failed, he looks up to you anyways. Screw everyone else if they think differently; you're cool for having gone on one in the first place!

Tony would have been dissapointed, but maybe it's just the way he saw how dissapointed you already were in yourself. Instead, he has you sitting beside him in his workshop, letting you watch him design some fancy new technology he's had in the works ...(it's really just a new suit, but Pepper would kill him if anyone found out.) Building stuff is his way of forgetting his problems, and some part of his mind thinks that letting you watch him will let you forget the dissapointment of today.

If Steve was dissapointed, he certainly didn't say it. Instead, he does his best to cheer you up--he had been in your place many years ago, after all. He knows what it's like to fail, and how it can crush a person. His first thought was to offer you ice cream... he's not really sure what the 'kids' like these days. You seem to like the ice cream, so he considers it a job well done.

Natasha was dissapointed, to say the least. Good thing she has a soft spot for you, or you'd be running laps for the mistake you'd made. Most agents usually get that treatment with her, but seeing the pure dissapointment on your face made her change tactics. Natasha isn't one to sugarcoat, and of course, she tells you all of the ways you could have done better, but above all, she tells you everything you'd done well. Constructive criticism is necessary for success, after all. (Afterwards, Natasha totally accompanies you on another mission and does everything in her power to help you complete it... without doing it herself, of course.)

Clint had been on backup when he'd seen you mess up, and was quick to save you from the tough spot you'd put yourself in. He was quick to reassure you that the mission could always be redone another time, and he was glad you were safe and unharmed. He was stressed, of course, but having you safe was his priority.

Bruce was the fastest of all the Avengers to get to you once you'd gotten home. He was quick, checking you over for injuries and shushing you as you tried to provide excuses for what you'd done. He is the first to tell you not to worry, and that everyone screws up. To his embarrassment, he decides to tell you a story about himself, a few years after the Avengers' formation.

Thor laughed it off when you told him you had failed. He, of course, started laughing boisterously. He might've thought you were being sarcastic, but when he realised that you were serious, he was quick to jump to condolences...and the offering of mead, of course. Because alcohol makes everything better. Sort of. The rest of the Avengers would find the two of you slumped over a couch, giggling incoherently.

requests open.

[asgards-princess-of-mischief]

Last Updated: 2024-08-06

Disclaimer: I am not the author of these stories, just sharing my favourite Loki Odinson stories. Find the authors' links below. If you want your work removed, message me privately.

Legend: 〔E〕 ⇢ Erotic/Steamy | 〔F〕 ⇢ Fluff | 〔A〕 ⇢ Angst/Hurt 〔M〕 ⇢ Minor Angst/Hurt | 〔C〕 ⇢ Comfort | ♥︎ ⇢ Established Relationship | 𑁍 ⇢ Pregnancy/Children | 🚫 ⇢ Content Warning

✑ Cool Me Down by sserpente • 18+ • 〔F〕 •

Summary: Tony invites you all to spend a relaxing week in Greece. You insist that Loki joins you and after some agitated convincing on your behalf, he does. Sounds like a promising vacation, no?

✑ Asgardian Summer￨Prt II by sserpente • 18+ • 〔F〕 •

Summary: "Imagine convincing Loki to go skinny dipping with you" then "Loki taking you to celebrate midsummer on Asgard... it certainly is a first that you see him drunk singing karaoke"

✑ Bora Bora by sserpente • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "Imagine Tony taking you all on a vacation to Bora Bora for three weeks. Even Loki gets invited, making you all the more excited..."

✑ Call You Mine by sarahscribbles • 18+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "It's your third anniversary with the love of your life, and Tony [gives] you a very thoughtful gift."

✑ Dancing with the Devil￨Prt. II by sarahscribbles • 18+ • 〔E᜶F᜶A〕 •

Summary: "You've burned for him for centuries, but you know he sees you as nothing more than a prize to claim. Still, you play his game of teasing and innuendo, but never give in to how badly you crave him. That is until an innocent smell of a flower on Midsummer leaves you with no other choice."

✑ Forage by mochie85 • 〔F〕 •

Summary: When circumstance requires you and Loki to take refuge in a safe house without modern conveniences you discover a new side to the God of Mischief and you must admit you like it.

✑ Happy at Last by holdmytesseract • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ • 𑁍 •

Summary: "The God of Mischief had finally found his true glorious purpose—in the shape of [you and your children]."

✑ Heatstroke by mochie85 • 〔E᜶A᜶C〕 •

Summary: "…"

✑ Midsummer Pinning by mochie85 • 〔F᜶M〕 •

Summary: It's summer in Asgard and you and your brother, Hogun, have come to stay with the royal family for the season before you are presented to society. || [Immortal!Reader]

✑ Pranking the Odinsons by lokisgoodgirl • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You and Jane Foster hatch a plan involving a beach, Loki, Thor and two pairs of dissolvable swimming shorts."

✑ Sundress Season by lokisgoodgirl • 18+ • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

Summary: "You wear a sundress. Loki likes this very much."

✑ All Mine by michelleleewise • 16+ • 〔E᜶F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ By the Sea Shore by oliwrites • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Casual by lokisgoodgirl • 〔E〕 •

✑ Coca-Cola by gaitwae • 〔F〕 •

✑ Cool Down by michelleleewise • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Loki Vs. Puppies by that-little-zebunny • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Refreshments by asgardwinter • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

✑ Teddy "Bear," the by lokisgoodgirl • 〔F〕 • ♥︎ •

See Also: Navigation || Loki Master Index

Authors: @asgardwinter || @gaitwae || @holdmytesseract || @lokisgoodgirl || @michelleleewise || @mochie85 || @oliwrites || @sarahscribbles || @sserpente || @that-little-zebunny ||

[squids-comics]

This is so cute!! Wanda's a car girl! And Quicksilver likes racing against her cars!

But if he's running at the same speed of the car, he's probably going a lot slower than half speed. He wants to spend time with his sister, but doesn't want her to feel bad about losing an unfair race.

From: The Mighty Thor #134

[saraakpotter]

you lied (loki x reader)

summery: when Loki came to TVA he has to watch his life. and not all parts are happy. genre: angst warning: spoilers for Loki season 1

They were in the interview room. Mobius was showing him some tragic pictures\ videos of his life.

''you think i care?'' Loki said obviously annoyed .

''you don't?'' Mobius asked looking at the video of Loki s first fake death confused

''not a bit''

''well maybe it would change with your little crush.''

Loki went pale: ''i have no idea what your talking about!''

''oh please Loki! i have been studying your whole life, i know these things!'' by that he clicked on a a file that showed a female avenger at the battle of New York\the first time they captured Loki. since he saw her he started having a crush on her!

''y\n....isn‌‌'t it?'' Mobius said slyly, then he show the next video: y\n helping them in Ragnarok. Loki smiled but refused to talk. Mobius annoyed of his actions went to the next slide witch literally broke Loki's heart:(y\n kissing Thor) his eyes filed with tears while he was trying to hold back a scream. Mobius left the room satisfied with what he had done.

Loki watched the video being played over and over again: y\n was in the hospital obviously injured and Thor sitting next to her. the video had no voice so he didn't heared what they where saying but suddenly y\n pushed her y\h\c (your hair color) behined her ear and blushed then they kissed. they kissed! every minuet seemed like torture to him. Loki sighed and went to the next slide they were some of y\n's battels then a slide from Loki's death: y\n was struggling to make Thanos let him go and when his body fell to the ground tears flowed down her face then she screamed making an energy blast that ruined the whole place

the next video was y\n sacrificing herself in end game. Loki felt tears again he was struggling to hold back a scream when the next video got played, but this wasn't y\n, it was one of the TVA guards

''Mobius i faked the kiss between y\l\n and Odinson as you wanted i hope this could make the variant talk'' the guard said before the video fades away Loki wanted to either scream in anger or stab someone.

Mobius entered the room and saw the situation: ''oh shit! shit! shit!''

''why did you lied to me?''

''Loki...''

''WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME?!''

''ok Loki calm down.....how about you tell me what i need and i will tell you the truth!''

''pfff how can i trust YOU?''

''she isn't dead!'' Loki paused for a second for him to continue ''in fact she is here.'' Mobius said pointing to the corridor behind the door.

Loki sat with hesitation ''start''

[lokisgoodgirl]

Changing Seasons: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (1) A long journey with Thor, Steve and Loki ends in a ramshackle country cottage. But really, it's just begun. (w/c 3.8k) Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Ex-Loki. Smut references. Humour/Mild angst. Recommended Folklore Track: The 1

This is fine.

It’s just five days. In this...cottage. With your ex. You’ll barely see him.

The tiny two story building sat before you, twisting wisteria claiming rough stoned walls. Burnt orange leaves sparked against the morning chill, rooted into windowsills and crumbling brickwork.

It was small. Really small.

You stretched your legs, observing Thor waddle from the car, laden with suitcases.

One fell.

“Watch that!” Steve snapped, on his last nerve after the drive from the Essex compound. A hand flew to his neck, massaging the twinge caused by six hours squashed in the back of a hastily acquired hatchback. “Your collection of personal toys, Rogers?” Loki drawled, letting his mirth-filled eyes slide between the two men. “Yes, brother do be careful. We wouldn’t want the captain to be without an outlet.” Steve’s face flushed, while Thor staggered valiantly onward to the cottage door. “I still don’t understand why we didn’t take the train,” Loki muttered with a theatrical sigh, a single brush down the front of his suit making every well-worn crease evaporate. “The two of you on a train,” Steve spat incredulously, “wouldn’t be great for subtlety.”

Every syllable was laden with frustration as he heaved another case from the trunk. The god nodded. “Even I must admit, this is much more entertaining Rogers” he replied, motioning towards the cottage at the exact moment Thor’s forehead smacked against the low awning.

The suitcases fell in predictable succession. “Jeepers criminey-” Steve gasped, lunging forwards.

You rolled your eyes, smiling just Loki glanced backwards. A wolfish grin ignited. Shit. With narrowed eyes, he began to glide around the Fiat like a day-walker. His hair was slicked back, falling over the shoulders of a black suit more appropriate to fashion week than training in the wilds of the Lake District. You’d tried not to look at him much on the way here. For obvious reasons. He swaggered with resolute precision, infuriatingly erotic as he always was. It was sick, how he looked so good. Like he hadn’t been in the same car as the rest of you, gorging on jelly babies and squished krispy kremes foraged along the motorway. You had practised for this moment, and to your credit; your face remained perfectly straight. Your posture, casual. Unbothered, as Steve and Thor argued further up the path.

‘My slacks were perfectly folded in New York. If there is any rumplage Odinson- then I’ll know who to blame.’

‘Carry your own damn suitcases, then-’ ‘-I would’ve, if you hadn’t been such a dandy-show-off’

You spun away from your incoming ex, steadying your racing heart as you focused on the horizon. Mist hung over the rusted treeline, green and sienna twisting together and dipping down to a sprawling lake about a mile away, you reckoned, spread against the sunrise. Loki’s playful scathing broke the calm. “You haven’t said two words to me in almost twelve hours, Agent,” he purred. “I’m impressed.” There was a time that kind of talk would have brought you to your knees. But not anymore, you lied to yourself, clenching. With your eyes still lowered, you tilted your chin towards him. Defiantly, slowly, you raised them; catching his inscrutable stare like a rifle’s scope. You raised your eyebrows expectantly, lips sealed. Loki scoffed, looking into the distance. His breath was fog. “I don’t know what else I expected,” he muttered quietly.

You stood in silence, backs turned to the domestic carnage unfolding at the cottage door. Letting your gaze roll over the mountains. Early morning autumnal air stung the back of your throat. Fresh pine and wisps of smoke from unseen chimneys, far away. Amber hues spindled along the surface of the lake a mile below, rippling methodically. You fought the urge to look at him.

His eyes would look beautiful in this kind of light. Always had. “It reminds me of home,” he murmured wistfully. It sank into the crisp air, the softness of the tone you still dreamt about curling around your body like smoke. Loki’s scent mingled with the breeze, reminding you of nights spent wrapped around him as you slept in snatches. His hand never far from your own. His love draped over you like a cloak.

A shiver ran down your spine.

You felt him lean in, the warmth of his breath against your skin drawing closer before it retreated. “Asgard,” he added condescendingly. “Although, Asgard isn’t quite as...rustic.” He lifted a foot, making a show of wiping a sole on the wet grass.

You grit your teeth. It never ended. He couldn’t help himself, even after everything that had happened between you. The snake tightened inside your belly, unfurling and poised to strike; regrettable words bubbling behind your teeth. “Let’s just get through this week, shall we?” Loki snapped, before turning away. The crunch of twigs beneath his retreating footsteps was all you heard as the chill stung your eyes. Just the chill.

"I carry the paraphernalia so I shall be first across the threshold thank you very much,” Thor grumped, jostling Steve from his path and shuffling sideways through the frame. Steve grimaced, nodding at Loki to follow his brother. “Thank you,” Loki said curtly; noting the captain’s gaze flicker to where you stood overlooking the lake in a valiant attempt to remain mysterious. “She’s quite well,” he added presumptively.

Steve frowned. “She was quiet on the drive. Even let Thor play his music. Not like her” he said, leaning against the cottage wall before recoiling. “Urgh, it’s damp.” Loki chuckled. “Of course it is. Welcome to the northern hemisphere, Rogers. What you need, is some leather” he winked.

He watched the captain pat his shirt fruitlessly as a stain blossomed through the pale cotton, clearing his throat softly. “She’s still a little...put out... by our parting of ways. Can’t blame her, really. I mean-” He gestured to himself with a consillatory sigh. “She’ll warm up-”

Loki cast a glance around, realising he wasn’t sure if the hallway was colder than the exterior. “-metaphorically, anyway.”

Steve nodded sagely. “To everything there is a season…” he mused. Loki frowned, turning away. He waved a dismissive hand. “You know I do not traffic in colloquialisms, Rogers” he scoffed with his back turned. Entering the kitchen, Loki immediately bumped his shin on a discarded suitcase. He wrinkled his nose.

A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, barely illuminating the cramped space. Ageing wallpaper clung valiantly to its charge, whimsical ducks and geese parading in an inexplicable march. Thor stood hunched over the sink, running spluttering water into the world’s smallest kettle. The ceiling was inches from his head. “Tea, brother?” he chirped. Loki nodded, wondering how the hell they’d ended up here. “Rogers?” he enquired innocently. Steve’s head popped round the doorframe.

“Howdy!” Loki closed his eyes and took a breath. “Rogers,” he repeated. “Remind me why this week is truly necessary?” Steve released a forced chuckle. “I’ll get to that. Hang tight.” He disappeared, shouting your name down the path. By the time the two of you returned, Loki had seidred the suitcases to their respective destinations. He had secured the largest room for himself, of course. Although that wasn’t saying much. Rogers and Thor would be sharing. Loki had the sneaking suspicion that was not the plan – but alas for them – it was their new reality.

Four mismatched mugs of steaming tea sat on the small square table in the corner. Loki sat in one chair, legs crossed. Thor in the other, looking decidedly squashed.

Steve closed the kitchen door while you leant against the counter-top, arms folded. “I made tea,” Thor smiled, pleased with himself as he held it forth like an offering. You accepted. Loki noted the shiver that shook your shoulders as the hot mug entered your cupped grasp. A fleeting smile of pleasure skating across your cheeks. He’d missed that, he found. “Please, take my s-” Loki started, beginning to rise. Habit. “I’ll stand,” you replied curtly. Loki nodded, sinking down. An uncomfortable silence filled the room as an oblivious Steve squinted suspiciously out the window while closing the blinds. “Alrighty then-” he said, turning. His enthusiastic glances bounced to each of them in turn. Thor adjusted himself, rewarded with the malevolent warning creak of a chair leg.

“As anyone who was listening during our meetings will know,” Steve paused, staring at Loki, “it’s come to my attention that our manual outdoor skills are somewhat lacking. Anything happens to our abilities or comms while we’re on a rugged mission and booyah,” he made a burst with his fingers, “pardon my french – but we’re up crud creek without a paddle.” Loki scoffed. “Hardly-” “This week we’ll be getting back to basics. You two-” Steve gestured between the gods seated at the withered dining set, “especially. It’s all magic and brawny shenanigans until you need to skin a rabbit.” He looked to you warily, “Metaphorically, of course. Our resident expert will give us instruction, and we’ll go from there-” Steve nodded to you, folding his arms. Loki rolled his eyes. “I don’t think you understand how magic-” “No weak links.” he continued, un-phased. He had his very serious face on. “And I count myself in this too. We need to be confident that if something happens, and we’re out in the wilds...we can handle ourselves. Survive, until help arrives.” “But why here?” Loki whined, “we have the facilities to simulate the environment back in-” Steve held up a hand. “No one can know earth’s mightiest heroes are out here learning outdoorsing 101, Laufeyson. Imagine the press. No.” He shook his head. “This is absurd,” Loki muttered into his tea.

“Let’s try and have fun. At the very least, it’s a week in the fresh air.” Loki’s eyes rose, your words and tone clearly rehearsed. There was a weak smile on your face, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He’d become intimately acquainted with that look in the final months of your relationship.

Silence hung in the kitchen. “And the two of you will be alright, will you?” Thor boomed, stretching a leg which reached halfway across the floor. He took a sip of tea as Steve’s face went pink.

“I mean, with the breakup. Although I suppose its better than being kept awake by the ooo’ing and ahhh’ing through the walls, isn’t it Rogers?” He began to chortle, “remember...remember in- where was it? Oh, Columbia. Norns, what a-”

“-Brother,” Loki snarled. Hair bristled on the back of his neck. You cleared your throat. “Loki and I have an understanding. There’s no animosity between us-” “Isn’t there? News to me,” Loki mumbled petulantly, running a finger across the plastic table cloth. He could almost hear the grind of your teeth as you spoke pointedly to Thor. “Well I intend on remaining professional. I’m sure your brother is the same.” Loki shook his head, snorting. “Professional?” he spat incredulously. “What need have I to be professional? I am a god.” “And there it is,” you began, temperature rising before Steve patted down the air.

“How about we go check out the bedrooms?” he said. Everyone murmured agreement. And somewhere between Loki cursing his temper, and the babble of his brother’s half-hearted apology- you were gone.

Ten minutes later, Loki found himself staring at the same spot on the wall he had been for the last eight. It was meditative almost. On the other side of the wall at the end of his bed, was your room. Small, rectangular. Barely space for more than the single bed. But Loki had a feeling you didn’t mind.

You had settled on the mattress around seven minutes ago after unpacking, the comforting creak of springs alerting him. What were you doing, he wondered. Thinking. Feeling? He shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that was no longer his business. But the thought crawled back with the vengeance of a dying wasp. If we were together still, I’d have made her climax twice on this bed by now.

His clothing hung in a drab single wardrobe. When in Nilfheim, he’d surmised. The garments were simple, and perfunctory. All manner of base layers and fleece lined items in vapid shades which lacked even a morsel of style. Not a sniff of leather. And zips in the most unflattering places.

Loki shuddered.

His ears pricked as he heard a wooden board in your room creak, tracking the slow amble of five steps it took to cross the floor from end to end. She’s looking out the window, he mused.

‘Get your hands off my undergarments,’ Thor’s voice was crisp and menacing through the wall to Loki’s left. ‘Well, put them in a drawer like a gentleman.’ Steve snipped in response, barely muffled by the stone. ‘There are no drawers! Why must we reside in such a place, Rogers!?’ He has a point, Loki thought. ‘Because no one would expect it.’ Steve replied smugly.

There was a pause, but Loki could hear the thump of Thor’s boots as he rounded the twin beds, positioning himself for attack. His voice was low, and purposeful. ‘Just like you won’t expect...this.’ The inhuman sound of one of his brother’s legendary farts ripped through the wall.

Loki braced in the silence that followed, relishing the craft of his devious room organisation while Steve, he presumed, got some traction to exit through the window. ‘Jeepers,’ came the choked, disbelieving response of the captain through the wall. Jeepers indeed, Rogers, Loki smirked.

A sudden tinkle of restrained laughter perked his ears. It came from behind the wall in front of him. He froze, savouring each lilting rise and fall as you gave in to full-blown cackle. Wait for it.

He held his breath. You snorted. Loki grinned, letting himself bathe in the warmth of that laughter which used to lace his brightest moments. The nights, when you met after long days apart. He remembered when he would tickle you beneath his sheets in the Tower. When he would slide his hands over your squealing, curled form in apology, crawl on his knees beneath the covers and gently part your legs.

‘I just can’t help myself,’ he’d purr, kissing the smooth skin of your inner thigh. ‘Forgive me?’

And you always did. Until you hadn’t. You would rake your hand through his hair, lovingly humming his name as he ran his tongue up your plump slit; settling in to his long, languid worship. Loki sighed. He looked down in his lap, realising a thumb was digging into the palm of his clasped hands. He pushed it in harder, frowning. Fool.

Suddenly the door flew open. A red-faced Steve gripped the door-frame, breathing heavily. “Swap...with...me,” he gasped. Loki shook his head, heavy with feigned sympathy. “Afraid not, Rogers. Look, I unpacked and everything.” He pointed to the wardrobe. “Like a gentleman.”

Steve’s face flushed deeper, hanging his head in resignation. “Gosh-darnit,” he sighed under his breath. “Be downstairs and ready in five.”

A chorus of Blackcap birdsong fluttered and rolled over the bushes. Final frostings of morning clung to crisped leaves, slowly warming in the blast of breath-fog from three Avengers huddled around a large map. You watched with an amused smirk on your face, laughing inwardly that Steve thought a wardrobe full of Trepass could disguise their presence. Like three bears at a piglet’s tea party.

Thor held the compass, squinting. The rectangular instrument looked much like a stick of gum in his palm as he leant closer to the dial, searching for some unseen clue. You decided to have mercy.

“So you can see here,” you said gently, tracing your finger over the map, “to get to the lake we need to follow a bearing of 79 degrees….and we need to adjust for true North. Remember?” You moved the compass slightly. “Blast,” Thor growled. He was taking this very seriously. A bobble hat was pulled low on his brow, but even then, you could tell he was frowning. Loki chuckled derisively, smoothing a strand of inky hair from his jawline. You watched as it curled behind his ear. His beautiful, perfectly formed ear. “Volunteering for the next marker, Loki?” you asked calmly, watching his smug smirk fall. You switched back to Thor, now measuring points on the map diligently. Steve stood by his shoulder, taking notes on a small pad. “A-ha!” Thor shouted triumphantly. A dozen birds took off from the nearest tree, fleeing skyward.

Steve frowned. Stealth, it chided. The blonde god whipped his face to you in childish glee. “This way!” he pointed theatrically. You nodded, bathing in the pride spreading across the god of thunder’s face. It was Loki’s turn to frown. “Give me that,” he snipped, snatching the compass as Thor began to fold the map and lead the charge towards the next marker. “You’re just jealous brother. Clearly my skills of navigation are unmatched. Isn’t that so, Agent?” he postured loudly, clearing a branch from your path. It wasn’t often Thor truly had the upper hand. So you decided to push it a little higher. “Out of the three of you so far? Absolutely.” You beamed at him, seeing storm-clouds gather in Loki’s eyes out the corner of your own. His brows knitted together, chin pushing down into the thick roll of his scarf.

Thor hummed as you passed beneath his arm. “I always liked you, you know” he chuckled in hushed tones. Clearly, he’d seen the abject annoyance blossom on his brother’s face too.

You nodded conspiratorially, casting a glance back at your dejected ex as he picked his way over a patch of brambles, hands deep in his coat pockets. Steve followed behind, flicking through the pages of his pocketbook.

“Meh, it’s good for him,” you said diplomatically while shooting Thor a toothy grin.

He returned it.

Loki took each step carefully. He would be damned if a tangle of barbed shrubbery bested him the same day as his oaf of a brother.

He wouldn’t have gotten it without her help, he fumed; stepping quickly over a freshly steaming pile of suspicious pellets. His nose wrinkled, glancing up to where the two of you were sharing a moment. Blatant favouritism.

Gritting his teeth, his jaw nuzzled further beneath the coiled wool around his throat. A smile lit up your face as you shared some sort of inside jest with his brother. Loki remembered, all too well, how you used to look at him that way. How it was to bathe in the warm of your affection, the comfort of your hallowed inner circle.

He tried not to let his mind wander to your inner circle too much. The immediate twitch of his cock beneath the ghastly slacks was a timely reminder why. Steve’s shrill caw of warning came too late. “Watch your-” Loki froze, snarling as his eyes fell to the foot now wedged in a pile of shit. “How appropriate,” he sighed as he reluctantly pulled it free. He began to wipe it on the ground. “Just wipe it on the ground,” Rogers said. Loki's stare was daggers as he continued to do just that, cursing the Norns as you began to walk towards them. “What’s the hold up?” you said. Loki raised a hand to stop Steve from speaking, but alas.

“Laufeyson stepped in poop.” “Thank you, Rogers. I’m sure our ‘resident expert’ can see that.” Steve crouched down to his haunches, inspecting the boot-imprinted pile. “Looks like deer poop to me,” he observed diligently. “What do you think, Agent?” “Could be,” you said, matching his serious tone. “Nice spot.” Loki felt his jaw slacken.

What portal has opened and swallowed me to this unending nightmare.

He wiped the defiled heel of his clumpy, tan boot a final time, before marching up the ridge. He should be first. He had the compass, the ultimate instrument of inter-planetary survival, apparently. “Broth-” he started, before rocking back on his heels. “What is your problem?” he heard you hiss as you yanked the back of his jacket. Loki whipped round, every snippy retort that hovered on his lips evaporating as he saw your flushed face; wild with undisguised irritation. Steve was bumbling slowly up the hill, oblivious. “I…” Loki breathed, resisting the unfamiliar urge to tell the truth. You were still gripping a toggle that dangled from the back of his jacket. Loki looked at it, pausing a moment before refocusing with renewed vigour.

“I shouldn’t have to do this. It’s ridiculous, and you know it.” “Well why are you even here? Why don’t you just bugger off at a moment’s notice like you always do? Go whine to Heimdall or something?” Loki heard white noise bubble deep in his mind, rising to a roar as his vision tunnelled to the sight of your pupils blown wide with anger; lip trembling ever so slightly as you valiantly stood your ground. There she is, he thought with bizarre satisfaction. “Because I wouldn’t want to give the impression I’m not a team-player, would I?” he snarled through gritted teeth. You released your grip on his toggle with a scoff. “I’ll believe that when I see it. If you can last the whole trip, I’ll-”

“-You’ll what?” Loki heard himself say. The tone, he noted, was dangerously flirtatious.

You eyed him suspiciously.

“-I’ll be am-azed. The prim prince of Asgard, hacking it for a week out here. It might be good for you.” You see-sawed your palm. “But you know...low expectations.” Loki’s eyes narrowed as Steve emerged hovering over your shoulder. He suddenly reminded Loki very much of the geese parading on the kitchen walls. “I assure you, Agent, I shall pass your tests with flying colours.” He forced a smile. It hurt his cheeks in the cold. A little bow followed. A little flourish of his hand. He paused, baiting you. “I look forward to you proving me wrong, then,” you sniffed, re-adjusting the straps of your backpack.

Your eyes caught his a little longer than you’d intended.

Loki’s gaze fell to your lips, beginning to chap in the unforgiving English chill. How he wanted to capture them with his in that moment, moisten them with his breath and tongue and fiery adoration. To warm you, take care of you. As he should have when he had the chance, perhaps.

At the time, Loki wasn’t sure why - but nonetheless he held out the compass to Steve. “You take this one, Rogers.” “Alrighty then!” the captain quipped obliviously. His knees pumped up in a farcical jog down the ridge towards Thor, having an in-depth conversation with a passing sheep.

“Alrighty then,” you mimicked to yourself with quiet smile. Meeting Loki’s amused gaze, the smile fell. And without another word, you set off down the hill.

The god watched you pick your way gracefully over the autumnal landscape, breeze whipping your hair. He brushed his own from his eyes, pausing to reluctantly admire the rugged peaks and cliffs that curled in on their path. Burnt orange mingled with green, a rolling wave of seasons trickling through the vale. He could feel it all around him; through him – seeping beneath his skin, whether he willed it or no.

Change.

Chapter Two: Sticks and Stones A/N: Thank you so so much for reading this - if you did! I'm having so much fun with these bunch and I'm very excited to share this kind of ridiculous journey with you :) There won't be as many POV switches in subsequent chapters - we just needed it in this one. As always - love love to hear your thoughts. Gooooo Autumn!🍁

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