#infinitystones

[crymics]

Infinity Ultron was here!

All cc’s belongs to dear @aralenorimaki01 .  You can check her page for great contens!

[lifeinbrick]

The multiverse never looked so good...

[lesdupont]

Infinity is on the LOOKING TRHOUGH LP LYS 053

[saintcentury]

We know about Peep show. What else is in the SCU (Staring Cinematic Universe)?

[loki-cees-all]

why are you reblogging so much Magnus content? this feels like a personal attack 🥲

I was thinking about having ramen for dinner 😈

😘

[infinitystoner]

Hello

That is all!

Ah, yes. The epic, unending battle of Tom vs. buttons.

Haven’t we they been through enough already? I demand an end to this torture, sir!

And c’mon. We all know why he’s sitting like that. 😏

[the-lady-amphitrite]

😈 feeling evil. for the asks:

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

we LOVE violence in this household, K

lets choose violence! send me a number and i'll answer

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

i answered this one here!

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

inhales deeply

everyone is wrong about Loki being worthy to wield Mjolnir.

no, no, don't give me that look. my logic for why everyone is wrong about it is rooted in canon for both the MCU and Marvel Comics.

everyone needs to take twenty steps back and sit down and think about why you need Loki able to wield Mjolnir in the first place. what is so fucking special about this hammer, you need Loki to wield it. is it rooted in the belief that being able to wield it means Loki is a hero? does the ability to wield it mean to you she's redeemed herself for all her past misdeeds?

if it is, this rant is for you! (and even if you don't, hi welcome to my biggest pet peeve related to my most beloved!)

Loki cannot, and will never be able to wield Mjolnir. he will never be worthy to carry it. and it makes sense for this character.

in the comics, it's established at some point (i am not citing the specific issue, sue me, Thor has 12343464574 comics) that to be worthy of wielding and using the powers of Mjolnir, the wielder has to be someone who can reasonably fulfill the role of Thor in Ragnarok should Thor die.

the text on the hammer itself essentially says whoever wields the hammer is worthy of the power of Thor. and what comes with that is the role of being Thor. the responsibilities and the trials and choices that come with taking on Thor's role. they have to be willing to walk the life of Thor in Ragnarok, including his death.

in the comics, Thor recognises he cannot be the hero that people need Thor to be while he's unworthy of Mjolnir. it's why he grants Jane the right to use his name when she wields Mjolnir. now, granted, there was a lot going on with Thor at this time in the comics which lead up to him being unworthy, but that would take too much time to go over so i won't. but Jane at this point was dying, and she kept wielding the hammer even after learning it would kill her. she remains the Mighty Thor knowing that this path will kill her in the end. and that is part of the reason she's worthy, she's willing to sacrifice herself in the end to save people.

but Jane (and Thor, when he was worthy) had faith and conviction in her decisions while wielding Mjolnir.

Loki doesn't have this, not truly.

i will admit to there being a (very short) point where Loki could wield Mjolnir in the comics, but it happened during an event known as AXIS, when (via an inversion spell done by Red Skull [don't ask, comic shenanigans, he's still not Actually Dead iirc]) the heroes/anti-heroes became villains/anti-villains and the villains/anti-villains became heroes/anti-heroes.

and that Loki? the Loki who was worthy to actually wield Mjolnir and classified as a "hero"? a complete, utter ass of a person.

you think i'm joking? here, having these comic panels.

but!!! this actually brings us to the point of this rant. why Loki is not worthy of Mjolnir, and why she will never be worthy.

this Loki? mentions he no longer feels guilt for the things he's done bc of this whole event fucking with his mind.

what do i take from that?

one of the core fucking reasons that Loki cannot wield Mjolnir is because he feels so much guilt. but that doesn't go deep enough. we gotta go another layer deeper, because Thor can still wield Mjolnir when he feels guilt.

but Thor never doubts himself and his ability to be a good god to his mortals. when Thor does? that's when he's unworthy to wield Mjolnir.

you can absolutely layer that specific lens of interpretation onto Loki, because he is always doubting himself. why? because everyone questions every little thing he does, and no one trusts that he has good intentions (except for Thor, and for a time even that wasn't guaranteed for Loki, in either universe).

even when Loki is doing things for the good of others, he doubts himself because he's weighed by the fact others will see the worst in what he's done. so it's less "i no longer feel guilt for my actions" and more "i no longer doubt myself for the things i do or have done".

and yes. you can apply this specific lens of interpretation to OG Loki in the comics too, the one pre-Siege. the one literally titled God of Mischief, Lies, and Evil.

"amphi stop reaching" IM NOT

okay maybe a little, but i'm not reaching that far.

i don't recall exactly who in the comics knows/remembers the fact Ragnarok is a cycle, and that the creation and destruction of the universe is something Odin is trying to break. not the point, doesn't matter.

for a moment, imagine that Loki knew about the Ragnarok cycles. imagine that he knew about the various lives he'd lived before. he'd know he would never be trusted, or loved, and even if he clawed his way into respect with the Asgardians, he is always fated to fall from their favour and be twisted into the villain of the Aesir and of Asgard.

because remember, in the mythology (which is referenced in the comics as a previous Ragnarok cycle) Loki is trusted by the gods of Asgard.

as much as they blame him for things, or they rage at him, and they hate and mistrust him, Loki was one of them. Loki is a jotunn in the mythology, and while we no longer have the myths that tell us how, we know that he and Odin were blood-oath brothers. that implies serious trust and love on Odin's part about Loki, to take that oath and to call Loki brother. to bring him to Asgard, and call him one of their own. it is an enormous thing that does not get enough attention about their mythological counterparts.

but through so many small and large things in the myths, Loki falls out of favour with all of Asgard. including Odin.

so. imagine this. Loki in the comics knows all of this. knows that, even if he can get Asgard to love him and trust him, eventually things will happen and he will lose all of that. the major difference in this is that Thor is his brother, and they're not bound by blood or a blood-oath, but a life lived side-by-side as brothers who loved and hated each other in a complicated dynamic that only they understand.

but Loki knows his fate. so he pushes everyone away. he makes people hate him before they can love him, because he assumes it will hurt less. and everyone but Thor (and later Sigyn) falls into this.

but Loki is also selfish. he holds onto Thor and Sigyn, falling into a loop of trying to pull close those few people he cannot truly push away, only to remember his fate and do what he can to push them away again. because Loki truly and deeply loves both his wife and his brother, and they both love him too, they love him back. but he's trapped himself in a cycle of self-abuse by doing this.

can you imagine the doubt that would sow?

[liminalpebble]

@lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @goblingirlsarah @elegantkoalapaper @eleniblue @leelei1980 @coldnique @sailorholly @acidcasualties @hellfirenacht @fairyysoup @tripleyeeet @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @thedistractedagglomeration @thenerdyoldersister @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @mochie85 @take-everything-you-can @alexakeyloveloki @peachyjinx @infinitystoner @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @josephfakingquinn @unfocused81 @slutty-thevampireslayer @little-wormwood @littlespaceyelf @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mischiefmaker615 @lemongingerart @ladyofthestayingpower @smolvenger

[cleo-fox]

Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

*

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

*

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

[gruftiela]

Life is giving me a really hard time right now, so my mood today was the worst. Then this picture appeared on my Facebook:

I'm still pissed over stuff but also kind of a little bit happier.

May all your days become a little bit better with this wonderful man in your feed. 🥰

@muddyorbsblr @vbecker10 @lokisgoodgirl @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loki-cees-all @glitchquake @cleo-fox @clandestineloki @insanityclause @wheredafandomat @infinitystoner @oswildin @peachyjinx @perseephoneee @peacefulpianist @acidcasualties @sserpente @shiningloki @fanficshiddles @holdmytesseract @joyful-enchantress @latent-thoughts @villainousshakespeare @viv-annelore @gigglingtiggerv2

[lifeinbrick]

Time Heist: The Movie

[sarahscribbles]

bc we were talking about it: imagine Loki setting a gentle, slow pace, but when begged for more he just says "You'll take what I give you, sweet girl."

bye! 🫠

I hope this doesn't disappoint!

Loki Masterlist

Drabble requests are OPEN

You’re not even dozing when the sheets rumple and the mattress dips beneath you. The familiar scent immediately envelops you - cedarwood, mint, and something subtly sweet.

Loki.

You stir beneath the covers, turning over in your cotton cocoon to reach for him. It’s been too long since you touched him, an entire week, and it’s bliss to feel him firm and solid and safe beneath your fingertips.

“Missed you,” you murmur quickly against his lips, not wanting to waste a second on words; they aren’t needed, you just need him.

“And I you, treasure of my heart,” Loki replies, claiming your lips in a kiss so passionate that you feel dizzy.

You melt back into the mess of pillows and bedclothes, sighing contentedly when Loki follows. His thumbs are tracing circles on your outer thighs, but slowly his hands slide over your hips to grip your waist, and he’s toying with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

It’s enough for you to know he’s asking for your permission - permission he’ll have as long as the sun keeps spinning- and you answer with a roll of your hips against his.

The shorts are tossed to the side in a flurry of limbs and desperate kisses, followed quickly by your shirt and, in a gentle flash of green seidr, Loki’s battle leather. Your hands find their home on his back instantly, running longingly over the ripples of muscles that flexed with each minute movement.

Your lover.

Your prince.

Your god.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breath out against his mouth, letting your eyes flutter open to lock with his.

Green irises glitter at you even in the half darkness of the room, and he answers by leaning down to give a sharp nip to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

Whatever teasing reply was half forming on your tongue is lost when you feel Loki begin to ease himself into you, inch by beautiful inch until you can take no more of him, until his body is pressed firmly against yours. He releases a shuddering breath when he's fully seated inside you, and the groan that floats from your own lips is sinful enough that you can feel his cock twitch inside you.

How is he yours?

“Every night I dreamed of this perfect little cunt,” he rasps in your ear, his movements tortuously slow. You want rough and eager, you want him to fuck you so hard that words become impossible.

But he doesn’t. He’s slow and gentle and teasing. Doing nothing more than grinding into your cunt as if he plans to drag this out all night. You can feel every ever ridge and vein pull against your walls and you inhale every time he pulls out - expecting his resolve to finally break.

But it doesn't, and he fills you up again just as slowly as before.

It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating.

It doesn’t take look until you’re arching into him, your soft whines of protest earning another nip of his teeth to your neck. “Loki…please. I need more. Please.”

He licks a light stripe along the column of your neck and finishes with a sharp bite to your ear lobe. “You’ll take what I give you, sweet girl,” he taunts with another agonisingly slow thrust. “And I plan to savour this for hours.”

Tags: @infinitystoner @cake-writes @kinky-faerie @muddyorbsblr @lunarnights95 @fandxmslxt69 @joyful-enchantress @goddessofwonderland @liminalpebble @ladyofthestayingpower @currish-rosewolfe @loopsisloops @coldnique @fictive-sl0th @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @mochie85 @littlespaceyelf

[mochie85]

hi! congrats on 1000! 🍾💚

angsty/fluffy drabble inspired by prompt #26 (“I can’t stand not talking to you”) and this gif?

Midsummer Pining

1K Masterlist One-shot Masterlist Complete Masterlist

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. A/N: Part of my 1K celebration. I wanna give a shout-out to @shadeysprings for helping me BETA and giving me ideas on how to finish. Also, a shout-out to @michelleleewise for letting me bounce ideas back and forth. And a big thank you to @infinitystoner for sending in the request! Pairing: Asgard!Loki x Vanaheim!Female Reader Word Count: 4,542 (it's a long one) Warnings: Fluff, angst Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

The heat from Asgard’s sun was piercing. These were rare days indeed when the temperature outside was too sweltering to do anything but laze about.

You had followed your brother, Hogun, from Vanaheim for the summer. You had done so every summer since you were young. This was the first year when your parents hadn’t accompanied either of you. They thought that Hogun was old enough to watch out for the well-being of his younger sister.

And you were horrified to find out that they were correct. Hogun had not left your side since you arrived. Only having privacy when you retired to your quarters for the night. It made things especially difficult to garner the attention of the younger prince of Asgard.

Ever since you started visiting the palace as children, you had always stayed with Loki. At first, it was because the two of you were younger compared to the other children. They would lump the two of you together while they played soldiers or other activities. But then Loki started seeking you out. Showing you tricks with his seidr that the Allmother had shown him.

You were instantly besotted with him. How could you not? A magical prince who sought out your company? Any young girl would fall head over heels. And you’ve been falling ever since.

You thought that since this was the first summer without your parent’s supervision, you would have the courage to confess your feelings towards Loki, once and for all.

However, you weren’t the only one seeking his attention. Other ladies of the court had decided that this was the season to try and catch themselves a royal match. You’ve been hesitant and non-too eager to fight for his attention. Only offering it up when he sought you out. Especially under the watch of your overbearing brother.

You missed him. You missed your best friend in the palace. The one who would spend hours just creating life-like images to make you smile. The one you would sneak into the sculleries with for a sweet treat. You missed your riding partner in the early mornings before breakfast. Just the quiet solitude of the two of you.

“Brother, you’re worse than an old nursemaid,” you said one morning as he escorted you from your quarters.

“What do you mean? I am only looking out for my younger, most cherished sister.”

“You are scaring off everyone. Even mother would let me off to play with Loki. You wouldn’t even let me give my best friend a hug when we arrived.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is? Afraid that I’m getting in the way of your little romance?”

“You tease me! Take that back!”

“Mother and father have charged me with your care, and I take that responsibility seriously. Just because they are not here does not mean you can do whatever you wish.”

“All I wish is to have my friend back. Surely, you’ve missed out on trips with the others just by watching me. You cannot be having as pleasant of a time as you ought to be.” You avowed. You knew you struck a chord when Hogun’s eyes marginally widened, and a quiet hum left his throat.

“Do you not think I am capable of watching myself? Just one day, brother. I will show you there is nothing to worry about and that I will behave as a well-raised young lady should.”

“Alright. One day. Today,” he finally relented. You jumped up and down excitedly. Already making plans of what you and Loki would be doing today. “And I do think you’re capable, sister. I trust you. It’s the others I don’t trust.”

“Spoken like a true parent. Now go on! Go be with your friends. I will join you for supper later.” You practically pushed your brother away as he smiled and hurried along toward Thor and the warriors.

You found Loki in the dining hall, breaking his fast along with Lady Bisley. She was animatedly talking to Loki as he tried to enjoy his food. Loki didn’t look too enthused about having to spend his morning entertaining one of his mother’s friend’s daughters.

“Your Highness,” you called behind him.

“Ah, Lady Grimm. How wonderful it is to see you.” He greeted you with a hopeful smile and a side eye towards Lady Bisley.

“Her Majesty, your mother, requested I retrieve you. It seems she had something urgent to speak to you about.”

“Well, there you have it. Excuse me, Lady Bisley,” Loki stood up and bowed as he hurriedly excused himself from her presence. You curtseyed and followed a couple of steps behind him, watching his fingers run through his hair. He rounded the corner and you followed steadily, not wanting to attract attention.

As soon as you walked around the corner, Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you hurriedly along the corridors. Soft giggles and peals of laughter could be heard as you ran past servants. You escaped into the back gardens of the castle and Loki didn’t stop running until you both got behind the gardener’s shed.

You laughed and panted as you tried catching your breath. Loki looked at you with a knowing gaze. “Thank you for saving me from that droning harpy,” he breathed as he steadied himself.

“Saved you? The Allmother really is looking for you Loki,” you spoke. Loki stood up promptly with a worried look on his face. “I jest! I jest!” you laughed when he tried to make his way back to the palace.

Loki’s face fell at having fallen for your trick but soon started laughing with you. He tucked a strand of your hair back behind your ear and soon the heat from the summer weather couldn’t compare to what you felt inside.

It’s now or never, you thought. “Actually, Loki, there is something that I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What is it, darling?” he asked, leaning against the wall of the shed. He held your hand in his as he pulled you closer to him. “Your hair is untamable,” he laughed placing another strand behind your ear. “The same spirit as you I suppose,” he said smiling, making your heart race. You couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer. His stare made you weak in the knees.

“I’ve grown fond of you, Loki. And not just in a friendly way, but more…intimately.” You annunciated the syllables slowly. The word ticking off your tongue.

His fingers paused behind your ear. He looked straight into your eyes but yours were downcast. A pointed silence hung in the air and you were tempted to look up at him, but you couldn’t. You didn’t dare see the mocking expression he might have at the news of your affection.

“Intimately?” he repeated. “As in, romantically? Darling, we’ve known each other for years. You’ve been my best friend…”

“I know, Loki. And all this time…”

“All this time?” he questioned. His voice rose a few octaves. All this time he could’ve been closer to you. He could’ve held you the way he longed to. All this time…you could’ve been his. “Why now?”

Why now after your brother had specifically told him at the beginning of the season to stay away from you? That your parents wished for you to find a suitor. Why couldn’t it have been him? The timing of it all made him angry at the situation he found himself in.

His questioning wasn’t anything you were prepared for. At best, you dreamt that he would kiss you, take you in his arms, and profess his love for you too. At worst, you dreaded that he would mock you and your feelings and pretend to ignore you for the rest of your time here. But this? This was unexpected. Was he angry with you? Was this his way of saying he wasn’t interested?

You took your hands back from him quickly. “I apologize, your highness. I see now that I have overstepped my bounds. Forgive me. It was all a jest.” You hurriedly said and turned to run away.

Your chest hurt. Your breathing was sharp and painful as you ran the distance back to the palace. Loki called out your name behind you, but you didn’t listen. You didn’t stop. You didn’t want him to see the fresh tears falling down your cheek. The same cheek that had burned from his touch on your skin moments ago.

As Hogun escorted you to the dining hall for supper, you noticed the wide smile on his face. “I’m glad you had fun with your friends today, brother.”

“I did. All thanks to your persistence,” he answered back. “I heard that you’ve been busy yourself, today.”

“Y-you have?”

“I heard from the servants you’ve been running around the palace. Is this a game you’ve been playing with His Highness?”

You’ve been successfully hiding from Loki since this morning. Managing to slip by him only seconds before he entered a room. He was relentless in his pursuit of you. Which scared you even more. The last thing you needed was his wrath coming down on you.

“No. I think he has outgrown our childhood relationship. I had not been with him all day.” You said dejectedly. Hogun detected a hint of sadness in your voice.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you might want to spend time with us for a while. I know Lady Sif has been asking for an opponent worth her time. I know no better mace-wielder than you.”

“Not even His Royal Highness, Thor?” You lightheartedly spoke.

“I might be a little biased.” Hogun smiled and he squeezed your hand. You entered the dining hall to find Loki surrounded by several members of the court. Ladies dressed as if they were in a grand ball, all vying for his attention. He was talking indifferently about something, looking agitated and wanting better company.

You looked away, not wanting to see it anymore. He always loved being the center of attention. He was getting that now from others. He didn’t need you tagging along with him.

Loki looked up at the sound of joyous laughter from the opposite end of the room. Thor and his friends welcomed you and Hogun to the table. He quickly excused himself from the menagerie of coifed women and made his way over to the table.

“Brother!” Thor yelled in a booming voice. “Sit, sit. Look who has also joined us?” Thor said pointing to you. You tried to keep your discomfort to a minimum as you felt Loki sit by your side. You felt trapped, now that you couldn’t run away. The scent of his cologne lingered towards you, tempting you to look in his direction.

“You’ve been so popular with the court ladies ever since Father announced your eligibility last year, Loki.” Thor started.

“Yes, pretty soon you’ll have more admirers than Fandral himself,” Volstagg teased.

“Didn’t you debut this year?” Sif asked you.

“Not yet, but I will. On my birthday later this year. As is the tradition in our family.” You cleared your throat. “I am to travel around the realms in the meantime, in hopes of catching someone’s eye. Like bait, apparently.” You said that last sentence as a whisper, more to yourself. But the group had heard it, nonetheless.

“Oh, but you’ll make beautiful bait,” Fandral teased.

“Yes, make all the other baits jealous,” Volstagg added making everyone, including you, laugh.

“Has anyone caught your eye, dear Lady Grimm?” Thor asked. Your cheeks heated. You opened and closed your mouth, not knowing how to answer.

“Darling, would you like to go riding with me tomorrow morning? You know, for old time’s sake.” Loki asked next to you. His voice snapped you out of your pondering.

You answered without looking at him, “Unfortunately your highness, I had promised Lady Sif that we would train together tomorrow morning.”

“We are?” Sif questioned aloud. You raised your eyebrow and looked at her decidedly. “Yes, we are!” She agreed.

“Perhaps, afterward?” Loki tried again.

“I’m afraid I might be too fatigued for good company, your highness.”

“It’s Loki. You’ve never been so formal with me before,” he joked. “And that will be perfect. We could sit in the library, and I could show you some of the newer volumes we’ve acquired.”

“Regrettably, I’ve already seen them earlier today, your highness…”

“It’s Loki,” he asserted once again, a slight irritation showing on his face. You nodded and looked away, slightly agitated. The rest of the group could feel the tension between the two of you. You and Loki were as thick as thieves, and they had never witnessed either of you at odds with each other.

“I apologize, your majesties. I seem to have overwhelmed myself today. I think I’ll retire early tonight. If you’ll excuse me,” you asked standing, looking straight at Thor who gave you a confused nod.

“Let me escort you back, milady.” Loki offered, standing.

“No, please. Stay and enjoy your time…with the others. I’m sure they can offer you far better company than I could.” You left quickly without seeing Loki’s eyes. Without having once looked up.

“What have you done to my sister?” Hogun stood up and faced Loki.

“Me?! Why do you assume it was my fault?” Loki fired back.

“Was it her fault?” Fandral asked pointing to where you had escaped.

“We’ve never seen the two of you argue before. It’s quite unsettling.” Volstagg said.

“Oh, I am so sorry to have put you off your third helping,” Loki provoked. “And if anyone’s to blame for her demeanor it should be you, Hogun. I’ve done exactly as you’ve asked and kept my distance from her this season and look at where it’s gotten us.”

“Hogun!” Sif rebuked him. “They are best friends. How could you ask him to do that?”

“That’s exactly why I asked. She doesn’t see anybody but you, Loki.” Hogun said pointing to him. “And if she was to have any agreeable match, she needs to start seeing who else might be available.”

“So the second prince of Asgard is not good enough for a noble lady of Vanaheim, is that it?” Loki yelled out loud.

“Loki, that is not what Hogun said.” Thor cautioned.

“Are you more than just friends, Loki? Are you ready to break that cycle, possibly ruin your friendship forever with her if it doesn’t work out between you two?” Hogun asked earnestly.

Loki huffed, an internal struggle brewing in his thoughts. “If you are not sincere in your affection toward my sister, then I don’t think you should be around her,” Hogun concluded.

Loki left in a seething rage. How dare they insinuate that he didn’t care about you. Of course, he cared about you! Of course, he thought about what would happen if you two ever got together. It’s been plaguing his mind since the first time he showed you his seidr and you looked at him like he gave you the world- in the palm of his hands. He couldn’t risk the wonderful friendship that you two had on a fleeting romance. Because that’s all it would ever be, wouldn’t it? Fleeting? All his thoughts and worries finally came to light, and it hurt that he couldn’t talk to his best friend about it.

The two of you stayed away from each other for the rest of the summer. You threw yourself into training and reading. During supper, you ate with Lady Sif and The Warriors Three to stave off the loneliness you felt inside.

But it wasn’t enough, every now and then you would hear a loud uproar of laughter coming from a group of women and men. And at the center of it all, was Loki. He always had a group of people around him. You’ve even caught him arm-to-arm with a lady or two after supper as they disappeared into the dark hallways towards his chambers. It was clear that Loki did not return your affections. Nor did he require your attention anymore.

Loki had kept his distance from you, as agreed. But his eyes and thoughts couldn’t hold the same promise. Every night he would try to distract himself by having various company. Sometimes he would be in a room full of people, all having fun, but he would feel this ache in his heart. He could feel the lack of your presence.

The last night of the season was upon you. Tomorrow you would head to Midgard for a month before returning home to Vanaheim. You were laying in bed hoping that Loki would finally come to you, at least to say goodbye, but he hadn’t. And thus cemented the pain of having lost your best friend indefinitely.

“Are you happy to be home?” Hogun asked breathing in the fresh mountain air. You looked sullenly at the green canopy of the trees. The lush carpet of moss and grass at your horse’s feet. The once-bright colors of your home seem to have faded. Perhaps it was just the morning haze creeping in. But deep down you knew why the world lost its color for you.

“Don’t look so glum, sister. Soon the snow will start falling and Saturnalia will be with us once again. You’ve always loved that holiday.” Your lack of response worried Hogun.

“Your birthday will be here soon.” He tried again, hoping to break your glum reverie. “Then, you’ll finally be presented to society.” Your face had become even dourer as you were reminded that the only person you wanted to be with, didn’t want to be with you.

You galloped faster on your steed, hoping to hide the disappointment on your face from your brother. The small troupe you had traveled with went ahead and announced your return. You could see a small welcome in the front gardens along with many other servants preparing for your arrival.

You dismounted and handed your reigns over to the stable hand as you ascended the stairs to your home. “There she is! Welcome home, my darling girl!” Your father said as you stepped through the front foyer.

“Papa! I’ve missed you!” You said bounding into his arms and he gave you a big hug in return.

“I trust your brother has taken care of you.” He added holding you at arm’s length and taking you all in.

You rolled your eyes and nodded. “Where’s mama?”

Just then your mother walked in from the side garden, arm in arm with Loki. You silently gasped a lungful of air and stopped breathing. He was charming your mother as she laughed. His bright smile and gleaming eyes made him look achingly handsome.

“My dear! Oh, how I’ve missed you!” your mother said letting go of Loki’s arm and striding towards you to give you a hug. You had not taken your eyes off Loki. He had not taken his eyes off you either. What was he doing here?

“Milady,” Loki said nodding to you behind your mother. “I trust your journey was fruitful. Did you have a good time on Midgard?”

“I did. Thank you, your highness,” you replied back curtseying.

“What’s with you two?” your father pointed out. “You act as if you didn’t have centuries between you.”

Your mother just watched, all-knowing as she grabbed your father’s hand. “Dear, why don’t we give them time to catch up.” Your mother said as she led him further into the house.

“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, your grace?” you asked boldly.

“Thor and I are here for your birthday celebrations of course. We have been invited and are the official ambassadors from Asgard.” Loki said with a proud smile.

“Your presence is most welcome, your Highness.” You curtseyed again, refusing to look him in his eyes.

“Are we still doing that?”

“Doing what? Pray, tell?” you said through gritted teeth.

“Pretending, as your father said, that we don’t have centuries between us.” The audacity!

“Forgive me, your highness.” You curtsied again, barely containing your irritation. “How shall I act? Shall I just hang on to your every word? Simper over you like one of your debutantes in search of your match? Shall I giggle or bat my lashes in your presence? Perhaps then maybe I would be worthy of your attention.”

“Darling…”

“And now, is it not enough that you ignore me the entire season, but you decide to try and torture me IN MY OWN HOME…”

Loki kissed you.

He grabbed your face in between his hands and placed his lips over yours. Your eyes widened in shock as one of his hands traveled down to your hips, holding you in place. He smelled like sunlight and the peonies from your garden. He tasted like the berries growing from underneath your bedroom window. And he felt like…he felt like home.

You gave into his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him tighter to you. His whole body visibly eased in your embrace. Settling into your arms and molding his body against yours.

“It was torture for me too. To have you so close and not be able to do anything about it,” he breathed as he placed his forehead to yours. “I can’t stand not talking to you. I’ve missed you so much. Every night, I’ve wanted to go to you. I would get as far as your door but stop short of knocking.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“You, my darling, are a lot braver than I am. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But when you confessed your feelings towards me, I must admit I was angry. Not at you!” he tried to placate seeing your worried face.

“Your brother had expressed that I give you space to find yourself and to perhaps find a suitor. And you couldn’t do that if you were spending your days with your best friend. I was angry at the fact that I couldn’t be that for you. That no one thought I could be that for you. I wasn’t brave enough to stand up for you and my feelings.”

“My brother asked you to stay away?” You were filled with jumbled emotions. Excitement, shyness, anger, confusion. You held your hand against Loki’s face. The one face you longed to see every day. The one your heart ached for when you were apart.

“Loki I…” you started but stopped short when you heard Hogun enter the front foyer laughing animatedly with Thor.

“Awe, it looks like they made up! See, I told you it would all work out in the end!” Thor said clapping Hogun on the back of his shoulder.

Now it was your turn to be angry. “HOGUN!!!” You yelled turning to him.

Hogun knew that face. Your brows were slanted in anger, the fire in your eyes was fueled by wrath, and nothing could calm you down until you had gotten it out of your system. “You are lucky I do not possess the power to call forth my weapon like Thor can, or else I would make it go through YOUR HEAD!”

“I better…” Hogun started saying, backing out into the front steps again.

“Run.” You finished his sentence for him, chasing him out with a conjured mace, thanks to Loki.

“Loki, I don’t think you should have given her that,” Thor said to him as they watched you battle on the front lawn.

“Just look at her go,” Loki said in wonder. “She is breathtaking, is she not?”

It was the night of your birthday party, and the entire manor was in a flurry of chaos. Last-minute flowers were added to vases and servants were running around with large platters of petit fours. You had begged your mother not to go overboard. Her plans to introduce you to society were irrelevant now that Loki had come back into your life.

You were leaning against a pillar, your forehead on your arm, exhausted. “Mother, it’s just one night. All of this is ridiculous. I have already made my decision.”

“And it’s a good decision. But now the entire realm needs to know of it too. An announcement worthy of the Prince,” she concluded turning back to you.

But you had already disappeared. Loki had quietly grabbed your waist and led you down to the back gardens. As soon as you felt the cool breeze of the night sky, Loki grabbed your hands and ran, escaping the hurried frenzy of tonight’s activities.

He looked back at you, smiling. The skirts of your gown flitted in the air creating a cloud behind you. He stopped when you had reached the back stables, panting and looking to see if your mother had caught you.

You giggled into his arms. “Thank you,” you said as he wrapped himself around you. “I don’t understand why everyone is making such a big fuss about it,” you whined. These stolen moments away from the prying eyes of your family were few and far between.

“Why stop them from celebrating you? I know I want to,” he said softly, taming your hair behind your ears. You smiled at him, reaching up for a stolen kiss.

“And that is all I require for my birthday. That is all I wish for. You and me.”

“Then you shall have it!” Loki proclaimed bowing formally to you. “I am Loki. Odinson. Prince of Asgard. God of mischief. And I offer myself as your birthday present.”

He looked up at you through the curtain of his lashes, a suggestive smile breaking through, making you bite your lip. “I shall be by your side the rest of the night. You and I, together.”

“Must we attend? Can’t we just lay here and watch the stars?” you said toying with the leather collar of his armor. “There are a multitude of other things we could be doing,” you teased.

Loki chuckled at your boldness. He pushed you against the wall of the stables and caged you within his embrace. “Shall I give you the rest of your present? Here? Now?” His body pressed hard against yours. You stretched your neck to look up at him and his devious eyes. He traced his nose along your temple. Down your cheek, towards your neck, inhaling your perfume.

You felt light-headed and awakened. As if your skin was inflamed. “Your birthday was traditionally set for you to be introduced into society. Let your parents introduce you…”

“But Loki-” you moaned.

“…as my intended.” He kissed your neck. Your pulse fluttered under his soft lips. “Don’t you want all the realms to know who you’ve chosen? Who has claimed your heart?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly.

“I give myself to you. Claim me and I shall do the same for you tonight.” He whispered his promise. One he seals with his teeth grazing against your skin.

"Lady Grimm!"

Both of you looked up at the sound of your name being called. It was your mother’s servant passing by as he sought you out.

“Save your first dance for me,” Loki said escorting you back towards the party.

“I’ll save all my dances for you,” you said as you pulled him along with you.

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[loki-cees-all]

BABE ARE YOU OKAY?

BABE ARE YOU OKAY?