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anukulee · 1 year ago

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Improper (Loki Fanfic)

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In Contribution with Smolvenger (Tumblr)

Note: This has mentions of GOT (Game of Thrones) characters, if you click on their name you should be able to pull up an image of them. These images will come in handy later trust me.

A/N: As a treat for you all this chapter will be my first ever contribution, this being with Smolvenger (Tumblr). She gave me the idea with Hal sneaking out with someone to a tavern and I expanded on it adding a betrothed, alongside Loki. So while our ideas might be the same, we are taking different approaches, and I as of now have yet to read hers. Meaning in no way will my work be excatly likes hers, but you will have it to look forward to. Now with that out of the way please enjoy my first-ever kinda of contribution....

Her face rumored to be beloved, and admired by all, was graced with a frown. A frown that always seemed to be held in regards to him. A very frown that Loki felt didn't suit her features, not that she would ever let him tell her that, for she was far to stubborn to listen to his reasoning. Far to uptight about the rulings, that had likely been drilled into her since birth just as they were with him. Her tone mirroring her, rigid point of view, as she spoke to him. "My prince, I would highly suggest against this," she said, just as she did every time Loki would attempt to get them into mischief.

"Now what would be the fun in that, my dear," Loki responded, unaffected by his betrothed's words, for he had heard them far too many times.

"You call this fun?"

"Yes, what else might this be?"

"Inproper, of course."

"You always say that my dear," Loki said, another remark out of his silver tongue, far to use to their bickering.

"And yet you never seem to listen," she reasoned just as she always tried to do, yet as always Loki ceased to listen.

"What fun would it be if I were to listen?"

"Not everything has to be fun, my prince."

"Says the killjoy."

"I am no kill joy as you call it," Loki's betrothed proclaimed, as her arms folding across her chest, and right to her bosom, one that Loki remainded himself to not to close look upon.

"Aren't you my dear?"

"I am not."

"Prove it then."

"How?"

"Come with me to the Lion's tavern."

"The lions tavern," Loki's betrothed, asked confusing now masking her face.

"The one and only."

"You mean the one with all the," Loki's betrothed, started to say yet seemed to fail at finding the exact words, through Loki already what she was going to say.

"The lady company."

"Yes."

"Some go there for the women." In fact I can think of a few, Loki thought, but saw better as not to name.

"Figures."

"I never said I do."

"You don't?"

"Perhaps I go for the drinks."

"You know I am no innocent young maiden?"

"Aren't you," Loki said, giving a skeptical look towards his betrothed face.

"I am afraid not, my prince, for having many men in my family has immuned me to such flights."

"Have they?"

"Yes."

"Then if that is so, why do you act, so..."

"Uptight, was that you were going to use?"

"Clever aren't you? Trying to guess what I might say."

"I do try, my prince," she teased tone now far lighter then before.

"Enough with the prince talk, I am your betrothed, not some stuffy old lord."

"I would never call you stuffy."

"Then what would you call me?"

"I don't believe you might want to hear to what I would call you."

"Don't I, it wouldn't be anything I haven't heard before."

"And give you the satisfaction of being right?"

"You tease."

"Takes one to know one doesn't it?"

"Such a tongue you have on you little one," Loki interjected, now edging ever so closely towards the one who would one day become his wife. Rather then back away as Loki might've thought, his betrothed did no such thing and remained still.

"I am no little one."

"Aren't you for you are younger then I."

"I will have you know, I am not much younger then that shield maiden friend of yours."

"Sif?"

"Yes, I believe that was her name."

"You make little point my little dove."

"Again I am not little."

"Aren't you, considering I am a god?"

"And I shall be a goddess once we marry."

"If we marry."

"You doubt our parent's wishes," she asked, her eye brow now furrowing in a way that Loki's couldn't say wasn't alluring.

"I doubt your likelyness to kill me."

"As if I would waste such a task on the likes of you."

At this Loki made a fake stabbing motion with his hands, as if she had wounded him, when truly she hadn't, at least not further then anyone else had. "You wound me my dear."

"Do I? From what I hear you can just come back alive."

"So you have heard tales of me?"

"Of course, who hasn't heard of you?"

"Yet you will still marry me?"

"I do as my parents wish, just as you do."

"Ah yes, the wills of our gracious parents."

"Indeed, my prince."

"Loki," Loki interjected, causing his betrothed to pause for a moment. "Call me Loki."

"Loki?"

"Yes, if we are to be married, you might as well call me by my proper name, no more of this my prince nonsense."

"If that is what you wish."

"Now now, what happened to that fierce vixen who was just speaking to me?"

A look of confusion once again crossed Loki's betrothed face, one that he figured would happen. For ladies such as her have likely been taught that they must keep their mouths shut and obey their husband's wishes. A setiment that seemed to be voiced in his betrothed next words. "You like that?"

"Why wouldn't I, for what is more alluring then a fierce woman?" Loki was far from the people that she has likely been told up, for he was one who prefered someone that would keep him on his toes. For what was life without a little danger or mischief? Perhaps this might be more fun then I intially thought, Loki's mind already slowly turning.

"You find it alluring?"

"Yes, for I have always liked my companion to be sharp of mind and tongue. I find it makes the sex far more sensual."

"Such crass words coming from you."

"What did I wound your ears," Loki asked, his tone while still teasing held just the smallest bit of concern. He had heard tales of woman not knowing such things until after they were married or at times broken into the wrong way.

"No, as I said before I have long since heard the things due to my family."

"I see, then shouldn't that make going to a tavern of no issue," Loki asked, finally getting back on subject.

"And if anyone were to see us, what might we do then?"

"We can say we are searching for someone."

"And who might that be," Loki's betrothed asked, her arms crossed against her chest once more.

"One of our advisors of course," Loki said, as if the very idea he was suggesting wasn't going against everything that his fiance had likely been taught.

"And which one might that be?"

"The one who always lingers at establishments such as those."

"And who in there right mind would do that," she asked, her brows furrowing once more, still very much skeptical about Loki's idea.

"If you come with me, you shall see. So how about it," Loki said offered his hand out to hers.

"I swear to all the gods above if we get caught, I am blaming you," she said, relenting likely not in the mood for another bickering spat with Loki. One he was pleased enough not to have.

"Whatever you wish, now let us go," Loki proclaimed.

"And how do you suggest we do that, we just going to waltz up wearing this," she said, gestering to the royal attire they were currently wearing.

"But of course not, I am far too clever for that," Loki said, and with a simple glow of his seidr, both he and his betrothed were adorned with clocks, hers being blue while his was black.

"And this will help how," she asked?

"Patience my darling all in due time."

"Must you with the pet names?"

"Always," Loki remarked with a grin, as with another glow of his seidr, his form changed, his hair now longer black as raven, now turning a light brown color almost blond with the sun, his eyes no longer green, now becoming more a hazel eye color, his clothing turning more into what one might see on a commoner wear yet rather then it be green instead it was red.

"What no green," Loki's betrothed asked?

"While this color isn't to my taste, people prefer my brother's color to mine, and seeing as we don't wish to be seen I thought it might be best."

"I see, now what about me," she asked, gestering to her still dressed royal clothes.

"It's of no issue," Loki said, as with another grow of his seidr, her dress became something more similar to what a woman of Asgard would wear now beneath the blue cloak. "Now would you wish for your features to remain the same or shall I change them?"

"I would rather like to keep my features, through I suppose my hair could become a lighter color."

"If this is your wish, my lady," Loki said with a bow, as his fiance went from looking like what could best be described as Anne Bolelyn (from Tudors), to Margaery Tyrell (GOT), her hair no longer dark brown falting on black, to a lighter color that was more like Loki's, and her eyes now green. "Now shall we go," he asked offering his hand to hers. Rather then decline she took it.

"I suppose we shall."

With a final glow of Loki's green seidr the two vanished, but not before Loki left two illusions in their place, in case anyone were to wonder. The illusions already bantering just as Loki and his betrothed would do.

The next time Loki and his betrothed reappeared, they were on a tunnel. "Must that be so dizzing?"

"Never teleported before?"

"Not without riding."

"Well it was either that or we walk, and I figured you would rather not be seen so this was the best I could do."

"We are in the dark," she protested.

"Not for long," Loki said, as soon the smallest bit of light began to admit from his palms. "Now will you let me lead the way?"

"If I must."

"There we go."

"Yes, now where are we," she asked, following the light that was coming from Loki's palm as he lead the way.

"Let us just say I have my ways of escaping the castle." With a single finger coming up to Loki's lips toward the end.

"I see without Heimdell knowing."

"We wouldn't be here if he knew."

"Point there." Step by step Loki lead the way with his betrothed following right behind him. "So who is this advisor we are searching for?"

"One that comes from Winterfell."

"You mean the realm of ice and snow without the frost giants?"

"Yes, his wife is the curent reigning queen of Winterfell."

"You mean Sansa Stark?"

"You have heard of her?"

"Yes, everyone has heard of Sansa and her lord husband Tyrion Stark. He is said to be one of the wisest men and from the Lannisters of Vanaheim."

"Have you heard of the other tales about him."

"What other tales," Loki's betrothed asked, a curious look upon her face once more.

"At the taverns he has earned the name of Small Drunk One, through he hasn't been there as much since getting married."

"If that is so, why is he here this night?"

"His wife lady Sansa, is said to have other matters to attend to, and I fear Tyrion might do something."

"So you are friends with this man, how unexpected coming from you."

"What can I say, I am always up for a surprise," Loki asked with a friendly shrug.

"If that is what you call it."

With that Loki and his betrothed finally began to talk, as they continued their way through Loki's tunnel, yet not without bickering along the way. Until finally they seemed to have arrived in the streets of Asgard, as Loki squashed the light out, and put a finger to his lips once more. "Remember no mention of whom we are."

"Who do you think I am?"

"I suppose you are right."

"Aren't I always?"

"Must you?"

"Always, after all if I give you an easy time, what shall you expect when we are married."

"Quite a tongue you have now?"

"There is nobody but you and I to know of this, and you won't tell."

"Won't I?"

"You won't, because it will all lead back to you."

"Will it," Loki asked his now light brown eyebrow raising just a bit.

"If not I shall make it."

"Fair game, I suppose, now what shall your name be if you are asked?"

"I was thinking Astrid Erikdottir, and yours?"

"I was thinking perhaps Thomas Williamson's."

"Perfect, now shall we go Thomas," Loki's betrothed asked now offering her hand to Loki.

"I suppose we shall lady Astrid," Loki said, as the two made their way to the tavern now above their head.

As Loki stood in front of the wooden doors that had guarded the tavern, ones that Loki had never particularly noticed on previous visits. Through on previous visits Loki had been more preoccupied by other things, whether that be seeking pleasureable company, or looking for a way to drink the days away. To perhaps forget just for a moment that he was the asgardian prince, even if he was merely second.

Yet with his betrothed, watching her eyes flicker up to the words The Lion's Head engraved above them. Loki felt a new apperciation for having been here before, just so he could see this. Noticing more details that he never had thought of, such as the fact he could hear the muffled sounds of the tavern even merely standing outside the doors. The two standing in silence, for a few moments as the two took in the enviroment around them, Loki's heart beating with every passing moment, not that he would admit it. Nor would he admit that he was the first one to spoke, far tired of not hearing her voice. "So how long do you intend on standing out here my lady," he asked, already having a teasing comment on his mind.

"For however I wish to, considering you dragged me here," his betrothed asked, tongue as sharp as ever.

"You agreed to come, so isn't this on you?"

"You called me a killjoy, so I thought why not prove you wrong."

"And you certainly have, I am surprised you have made it this far princess."

"Yes, despite my desire to kill you, leaving me a widow," his betrothed said, using a tone far to causual for what she had suggested.

"We both know if you were to do that, you might have to marry someone worse."

"Yes, while you are a pain, I much rather take your company over another."

"Awww that almost sounds like a complainment," Loki said, his tone still teasing.

"Take it whatever you would like. Now are we to head in or shall we be married before we do?"

At this comment, Loki stepped out of the way, allowing the door to creek open, holding it for his betrothed. "After you my lady I insist," he offered.

"If you insist I suppose I must go in."

With these words, Loki's betrothed stepped into the doors of the tavern with the door creeking shut upon it's closing.

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The moment they stepped into the tavern there was noise, and sights that no one would let someone such as Loki's betrothed or in this case Astrid to see. Through Loki had intially come to the tavern to show his betrothed some fun, it seemed as perhaps Tyrion might be worse of then he feared. As Loki's eyes began to search for where Lord Tyrion would be, through Loki's betrothed eyes were elsewhere. Eyes that Loki wouldn't say he yearned to see on him, not that he could say anything.

Just as Loki swore he could see Tyrion, something blocked his way, as music filled the air. "What is this," Loki's betrothed asked, confused from what she was seeing.

"Music of course, what else might it be?"

"Yes, but what are we to do?"

"Dance of course."

"Dance."

"Yes."

"Here?"

"Why not?"

"Without wearing any proper attire, or doing the waltz?"

"Not every dance is the waltz my dear."

"I know, but I didn't expect it would be in a place such as this."

"So will you have this dance with me," Loki asked holding his hand out to her.

"I........," Loki's betrothed stuttered unsure of what to do.

"Come on, you said you weren't a killjoy, so why not try just this once?"

"Yes, but what? You afraid I will let go of you?"

"Perhaps."

"Doth the lady protest?"

"Always."

"If that is so we have no need to do this, I could always find some other way to get over to Tyrion," Loki said as his voice dropped just a bit. For while he would never admit, he had a desire to dance. Perhaps to see her eyes light up in a way he had never seen before, and would likely never see given how formal they must be.

"No, I can do this."

"Are you sure," Loki asked his face full of concern not wanting to pressure his betrothed into something she might not want to do.

"I am sure."

"If that is what you wish then follow me," Loki said, as once Loki's betrothed took his hand did the two begin to dance alongside everyone else. As with every turn they made they got closer and closer to someone. It was here where Loki began to dance closer to the smaller man.

As to the sky, a small man barely 4'5 in height, his almost as blond as Loki's current appearance, his eyes a bright blue, with a scar running down half of his face, yet rather then be dressed warmly he wore longer clothing, colored black, with boots at the bottom, in one hand through he had a glass full of mead aimed towards the sky. "There he is," Loki said, as he pointed to said small man.

"That's Tyrion?"

"Yes, you do recall he is short?"

"Of course, everyone knows of his stature, what I didn't expect is for someone, so small to be able to hold so much mead."

"You wouldn't yet here he does."

"I can see that, but what do we do now?"

"Now we go to him," Loki said as he soon let go of his betrothed hand much to his dismay. Making his way over to Tyrion, everything after that became a blur of people. Loki's only goal was to get towards Tyrion.

"Cheers to my lady wife, who couldn't make it," he said slurring every so often with his words.

"Tyrion," he exclaimed, once he was close enough to the small man.

"And who might you be," Tyrion asked, his words still slurred.

"Someone you know."

"Are you sure for all I know you could be *hic* a stranger, or perhaps someone sent by my family *hic*."

"We can dicuss this later, why are you here," Loki asked, as slowly he went to one side of the table. Loki's betrothed seeing this took to the other side at least she tried to, until something happened, through Loki didn't see it at the time.

"For the company of course *hic* seeing as my lady wife isn't with me *hic*. How I miss her red hair, her bosoms, and very being *hic*," Tyrion proclaimed.

"You won't be able to see her, if you remain here."

"And why won't I?"

"Can't you come with us," Loki pleaded.

"Why now isn't the time to discuss such matters *hic*. Now is the time, for fun my friend prince Loki *hic* would know of this. Now have some fun young man *hic*, the night is young," a drunk Tyrion proclaimed.

"Yes, but," Loki said about to protest when something caught his eye. His betrothed in the arms of someone else, something that stirred Loki the wrong way. Almost as if there was a ping in his heart. Impossible, it can't be, it's too soon, he thought. Yet still the ping remainded, as rather then focus on the fun he could be having instead Loki's eyes were elsewhere. Watching as his betrothed was in the arm's of another, his gaze switching back and further between the drunk Tyrion, and his betrothed. Rather then thinking it through, he grabbed the still drunken Tyrion earning him protests from him.

"What is this for?"

"Your own good, friend."

"It isn't, if it were for my own good *hic* you would let me drink and know things *hic*," Tyrion proclaimed, this got Loki to recieve looks from the tavern paterons, including the one that held his betrothed.

At this Loki let out a too casual laugh. "It's nothing, I am afraid my uncle here has had far too much to drunk, so we should be off," Loki said, the lie coming out of his tongue quicker then one might expect. Taking this chance to motion his betrothed towards him, as soon Loki held a drunk Tyrion, exiting the establishment. Once in a corner that nobody could see Loki changed from Thomas Williamson's, back to Loki.

"It's you Loki," Tyrion proclaimed.

"Yes, it is, what would Sansa say about this?"

"Well Sansa isn't here *hic*.

"Yes, but a lady was."

"Whom?"

"My betrothed."

"And who might that be? Perhaps it *hic* was the lady who was stolen away *hic*."

"You know?"

"Of course I know, beloved prince, you do *hic* recall I drink and I know things. Didn't you *hic* think I saw, your jealous glare my friend *hic*?"

"You have no which you speak of."

"Don't I, I am not your brother nor am I Jamie *hic*."

"And if you were right," Loki asked his arms now crossing against his chest.

"We both know I am, I would ask what her name might be *hic*?"

"You can call me Astrid Erikdottir," a voice injected as much to Loki's delight, his betrothed stood there once more, her hood off.

"I see, it is a pleasure to meet you *hic*, through I never expected it would be like this *hic*."

"Nor did I sire," Loki's betrothed said offering her hand to Tyrion.

"How much did you hear," Loki asked?

"Whose to say, now shall we go, I believe we have had enough fun," Loki's betrothed asked paying little mind to the question.

"Must I," Tyrion asked?

"I am afraid we have meeting tomorrow, and father may not like seeing you there."

"Ah yes, your father, how I wish *hic*, I could drink when dealing with him."

"Alas you can't Tyrion."

"I know dear prince, then let us go *hic*," Tyrion proclaimed before he began to mumble something about his other drunken adventures.

Through Loki paided little to no mind as he followed Tyrion, but not before redawning his Thomas Williamson's look. He looked towards his betrothed in an apologetic manner. "Was this fun enough for you," she teased.

"Must you," Loki asked?

"You were the one who claimed, to wanting to have fun."

"Yes, but perhaps next time it could be more fun."

"More fun then this?"

"Far more fun."

"Ooh and you expect me to go along with it?"

"Won't you?"

"Only if you admit something?"

"And what might that be?"

"You were jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Back at the tavern when I was dancing."

"And if I was, what might you say?"

"I would say he dragged me over there, and I had little desire to go."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

"My how improper of you, for wanting to refuse a dance," Loki teased.

"You were the one who wanted me to have more fun."

"That I did, and did this live up to it?"

"Perhaps but how could you imagine in topping it next time," she asked turning her gaze toward Loki.

"Next time?"

"Yes, for I am afraid I might still be what you might call a killjoy."

"Are you?"

"Perhaps, you might just have to see on how improper I can be," she said and before Loki could say anything she went closer to Tyrion with Loki following closely behind. Through just as she said that a thought crossed Loki's mind. A thought that perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.

A thought that would remain in his mind even after Astrid Erikdottir, turned back into his betrothed, through that thought would remain clouded until later. For Loki and his betrothed had much more improper things to do, through those stories are for another time, through this story was just the start of their improper lives together, one that would be long and full of what would be deemed of improper things. All because of one improper visit to a tavern....

#loki #soft loki #jealous loki #bickering couple #proper lady #arranged marriage #tyrion lannister #tyrion x sansa #loki x female reader #loki x oc #loki fic #loki marvel #Tyrion cameo

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wolfpup026 · 10 months ago

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the pokemon au

#loki #mobius #lokius #marvel #loki series #loki totally isn't jealous of that eevee #i saw a cute fanart of eevee in a mcdonalds and of course that reminded me of mobius lol #so that's how this came about #my art

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robin-munson · 1 year ago

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I absolutely love this scene bc I was sensing a vibe from loki

#loki series #loki spoilers #loki season 2 #lokius #loki #mobius #sensing jealous loki

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theangrykimchi · 24 days ago

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Happy Halloween! Thor and Loki are going to attend a Halloween party, what about you?

#it's 100% a Tony Stark party #yes Thor is dick out naked under that sheet #no he doesn't think it's inappropriate #why would he #also yes he totally got jealous over Loki showing some nip #shenanigans will ensue #thorki #halloween art #thor/loki #just.kimchi.things #this is my first art since March :')#thorki fanart #thunderfrost

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meep-meep-richie · 10 months ago

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Mobius being the jealous one

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mobius-m-mobius · 1 year ago

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#hold on let him cook 👀😅

#mobius #owen wilson #loki #mcuedit #lokiedit #marveledit #loki spoilers #just noticed sometime since s2 aired i've passed my latest follower milestone so in celebration please enjoy one (1) jealous bitch 🥰#like he really can't stand the thought aslgjslfk #taking his petty ass sip lmao that's the love of my life #loki s2 spoilers #owenwilsonedit #marvel #dianagifs

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p4nishers · 1 year ago

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what the fuck was this look. b-15 mentioned ob and you looked at mobius like that for what loki. for WHAT.

#they're so jealous for no reason at all that its painful to watch #lokius #loki #mobius m mobius #loki series

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gvnwitchrxse · 2 years ago

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Love subby Loki 💚🖤

HMBOMT is such an emotional roller coaster ride...😘😘

Only rollercoaster that I LOVE💚

I have a request

Can you pls write a HC about Jealous!Loki x Reader

Like I don't know why but I fell Like Sub!Loki will Overstimulate you to convey that only he can handle you and Dom!Loki will edge you to tell that he is the Incharge...😅😅

I love rollercoasters in general🤣

I'm glad you're enjoying, we are few parts away from the end. Here's a little something.

Warning : 18+, Mommy kink, daddy kink, the usual. Don't like don't read.

Sub Loki being Jealous

Sub loki would definitely get jealous because he's your baby and he's supposed to be the only one who gets to be under you or even touch you like that.

He would be all whiny and would throw tantrums if let's say he caught someone flirting with you.

A ferocious kitten, a brat is what he would be when he gets upset. Would probably give you silent treatment as well.

Once in bed, He'd definitely eat you out, use his mouth, fingers and his cock, one by one to make you cum again and again.

He'd prove to you that nobody else can take his place. He won't stop until you're begging him to stop,

"Mmm you're going to cum again mommy? think he can make you cum like this over and over again? I don't think so"

Once he's done exhausting you with orgasms, he'd hide himself between your breasts and just lay there, suckin and nibbling so you'd call him your good boy again.

"I'm the only one right mommy?" He'd tear up and would need assurance once he's jealous, because with jealousy comes insecurities.

Would giggle and squeal once you assure him that he's your one and only baby and nobody can take his place.

Dom loki being Jealous.

Dom loki is extremely possessive about you, you're his sub, his girlfriend and you belong to him only.

You might just try and tease him at a party to rile him up and He'd glare at you. That would be enough to let you know that daddy is pissed.

Would edge you with his fingers while he's driving you home, would make you ruin your panties and drench it with your juices.

"What babygirl? Can't take it? Should have known better right?"

Oh once he gets you in his bed, he'd tie your hands up and leave you with a vibrator on, the lowest setting so it's enough to keep you on the edge but not enough to make you cum.

"Look at you princess, you're so damn pathetic"

Would make you edge until you're crying and begging him to stop and make you cum.

"Oh I'd make you cum if you promise to be a good girl and not tease daddy like that again okay?"

And he would make you cum so hard around him while he fucks you with every inch of his cock.

He'd cum all over your precious skin because let's face it he'd need to mark you up after a scene like that.

Then he'd give you a warm bath and would cuddle you until you fall asleep in his arms.

#loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki x reader hc #loki headcanon #dom loki #sub loki #loki smut #jealous loki #sub! loki #sub! loki x femdom! reader

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ellamuffin97 · 24 days ago

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You are mine 💚

Pairing : Loki x Fem!Reader

Rating:E

Warnings : spice , sexy flashbacks, jealousy, possessive behaviour, alcohol, cursing

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

You sat at the bar and swirled around the watery remains of your drink. You stared at the melting ice at the bottom of your glass, totally wrapped up in your thoughts.

His voice got so damn rough and low when he was inside you. It was coarse, like shrapnel—it bit into your skin and stayed there, embedded and scarred over, whether you liked it or not.

“Fuck, just like that, kærasta . You feel so good.”

Loki’s hands gripped your ass, guiding your movements as you rode him, your palms resting heavy on his pecs.

“Mmmm, are you going to cum for me? That’s it, make yourself cum on my cock.”

You collapsed forward, forearms landing on either side of his head, hands tangled in his hair, lips pressed to his corded neck. He bent his knees to brace for leverage and started fucking up into you, holding you tight against him as you fell apart.

“Shit, yes, cum for me—I can feel it.”

The loud scrape of a barstool ripped you back to the present moment, and you looked around quickly, hoping your face hadn’t betrayed your filthy thoughts. You’d come here to not think about him.

Needless to say, it wasn’t working.

You were starting to forget why you’d told Loki so many months ago that your relationship was purely casual and would never be anything more. Only fucking him after you had missions together meant seeing him sporadically at best—a few days at a time, maybe a blissful week if you were lucky and the mission needed more time or if the target that you’d follow was far away. Then you’d go your separate ways, not seeing him for weeks or sometimes months, until Stark needs him and Thor again so they have to come back from Asgard .

The last mission you’d had together was three weeks ago. You didn’t like to admit it (even to yourself), but you’d asked him for help when you really didn’t need it. You could have easily catch the target alone… but the job required so much damn time in another country that you couldn’t fathom wasting all that valuable time without him. You weren’t going to not take advantage of six long days London with nothing to do but fuck. You had no regrets about the white lie.

And to your relief, neither Loki didn’t say anything when the target was suspiciously simple to catch.

But if you were at the point of lying about anything just to see him, why did you have this stupid rule in the first place? He had made it clear on several occasions that he wanted your partnership to be more than just about work.

“Stay with me. I want you here.”

No, no. You knew why you drew that line in the sand. You kept him at arm’s length because it was safe. This arrangement was simple. Straightforward. Smart. No strings or complications. After all, his invitation to stay with him wasn’t a promise—it didn’t ensure loyalty or preclude loss. Nothing did. Sooner or later, he’d get tired of you, or you’d get tired of him. Someone would end up too attached and heartbroken.

You couldn’t lose someone who wasn’t yours.

Living by that truth made things easy. Right? Yes. Yes, it did.

…Then why didn’t it feel easy anymore? Why did it hurt so fucking much every time he left Midgard straight after every single mission ?

That wasn’t a question you were ready to unpack at the moment. You signalled to the bartender for another drink, just as a man slid onto the stool next to you. You turned to look at him, and the corners of your mouth turned up in a smile.

Alright, he’d be a sexy enough distraction. If you couldn’t excise the shards of Loki that had worked their way under your skin, the least you could do was find a fun way to ignore them.

Authors pov :

She was here. Of course, she was here.

Seeing her was the last thing he needed. He was here to distract himself, to buy a bottle of something strong and escape to the solitude he finds his peace in . And once he was there, he would not think about her and her soft lips. No, he wasn’t going to think about how beautiful she looked splayed out in his bed , sweaty and wild and his.

*****

“Are you going to join me in here or are you just going to stand there and look at me?” she teased.

She sat up with a wicked smile on her lips and crawled to the end of the bed . She knelt at the edge, reaching out to grasp his shirt and tug him forward. He happily complied, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Speaking of nice views,” she purred. “I love when you wear those leather trousers .”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah… now let’s get them off.”

She bowed her head and pressed her lips to the side of his neck, and he tipped his head to the side to give her better access, a quiet moan escaping through his lips. Before he even knew what was happening, she had curled her fingers around the black elastic of his boxers, extended them toward her, and let them snap back . He grunted in surprise, but his playful words of protest died on his tongue when she set her teeth against his skin. She slid her hand in his trousers , rubbing and playing with his dick while her free palm wandered up over the taut muscles of his biceps.

*****

“Excuse me.” The bite of an irritated voice cut through his moment of reminiscence, loud enough to jolt him out of one of his favorite memories.

Loki looked around as a woman pushed past him. He stepped out of the way and muttered an apology. He hadn’t realized he was frozen in the doorway, completely blocking the exit.

He looked back over at the bar. His heart dropped.

No, she wasn’t his. She was definitely not his.

The proof was right in front of his fucking face. There she was, chatting up some handsome man who’d just sat down beside her, her hand playfully swatting his forearm—not that he even needed proof to know she wasn’t his. From the very beginning, she was crystal clear that all he’d ever be to her was an occasional mission partner and casual fuck. And he accepted her boundaries because as much as it hurt to watch her locking inside her room after every job, he’d rather give up his room in the tower and go back with his brother in Asgard .

He would rather have a piece of her than nothing at all .

Loki knew he should go. The smart thing to do would be to turn around right now and head back to Asgard. Staying and watching this unfold would just add more weight to the heavy feeling in his chest—the feeling that settled there months ago, after the first time you’d had sex and she left the next morning, the feeling that only relented when she was by his side once again.

But… if he stayed, he would get to see her for a little while. And… who knows? Maybe she’d see him too, come over, and stop talking to that asshole?

Could that man be considered an asshole for doing nothing wrong? The worst crime he had committed was choosing the most beautiful woman to talk to.

Yes, Loki decided. He was an asshole.

He moved further into the pub , making a beeline for the bar. He stopped at the far end, hand balled into a fist on the wooden counter. He didn’t even notice when the bartender came up and asked him if he wanted anything.

He was too preoccupied watching her. She was largely faced away from him, her body angled toward the idiot she was shamelessly flirting with. For a moment, though, she turned slightly, and the look on her face broke something inside him .It was a look—open and wanting, soft around the edges—that he thought she reserved only for him.

He also watched her smile at him, and an ugly feeling rippled through him—anger, craving, possession. It unfurled through his body like tendrils of smoke, filling up every inch of him until he felt like he was going to choke.

She turned just far enough to meet his gaze, and his feet were moving before he knew what he was going to do.

Enough.

***

Apparently, this stranger was not a good enough distraction. You were talking with him, doing some of your best flirting—despite how eye-wateringly strong his cologne was—and all you could think about was Loki. The man prattled on, not noticing that you weren’t listening to him at all as you slipped right back to a fonder memory.

You were tucked against Loki’s chest in the dark haven of his room, and he was nuzzling his jaw against the side of your neck. He breathed you in.

“You smell good.” He hummed thoughtfully. “Like flowers… and vanilla and a little bit like smoke.”

You smiled against him and leaned up to press your nose to his neck, inhaling.

“You smell good too. Like whisky and something warm… I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Sweat,” he offered.

“No,” you laughed, “Like cinnamon or pine trees… and maybe a light hint of sweat.”

Loki growled and flipped you on your back, bracing himself over you. “Told you,” he teased, dipping down to kiss a line along your collarbone.

“I still like it,” you whispered.

When you realized you were smiling in a slightly dazed, lovesick way, you glanced away from the man in front of you, turning your head to hide your expression. You didn’t want him to think you were looking at him that way.

And when you turned, you caught a familiar gleam of blue eyes in your periphery. As if you’d summoned him straight out of your daydream, Loki was standing at the far end of the bar, his eyes fixed on your face. You smiled at him, and the corners of your mouth turned up even more when he started to make his way around the bar, heading in your direction.

Yes.

You watched him as he walked over, wondering if he’d be open to heading straight to the tower .

And when he reached you… he didn’t so much as pause—you couldn’t detect even the smallest hitch in his step. He walked right on by, tossing a curt nod of acknowledgement in your direction. You didn’t even have the chance to reciprocate his nod before he’d passed.

You were too shocked to even be offended; you were just… crushed.

No, not crushed. Just surprised.

Your gaze followed his back as he wove through the tables. You expected him to find an empty one, to seek the solitude that he so often preferred over the company of most, but instead, he stopped in front of a round booth in the back corner where a beautiful woman was sitting alone. You watched in shock as he said something inaudible to her, and she beamed up at him, sliding over on the bench so he could sit beside her.

What the fuck.

“You okay?”

You snapped your attention back to the man in front of you. He’d finally noticed that you weren’t paying him the slightest bit of attention anymore.

“Uh, yeah sorry… I, uh, have to go.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment in his voice was palpable.

He’d recover.

“Have a good night,” you said, absentmindedly patting his arm as you got to your feet.

For a few stunned moments, you stood there by the bar and watched Loki blatantly flirt with this random woman. You couldn’t hear what he was saying from there, but it was clearly… effective. Before they’d exchanged more than a few sentences, she had a hand on his fucking knee.

Your brain stalled.

Normally , Loki terrified everyone he came into contact with. And you didn’t blame them—he wanted to take over the whole planet and caused disaster . You’d seen bigger men than himself flinch when he scratched his arm… and yet, this woman was completely comfortable with him right off the bat, positively swooning.

What the fuck was he saying to her?

He braced an arm on the back of the booth, around her shoulders, and she fluttered her lashes up at him. You could tell from the way his head was tilted towards her that she had his complete, undivided attention. You knew that look well.

Jealousy blazed hot and urgent inside you.

He was putting on a show for you, baiting you. He had to be. He was usually awkward and monosyllabic around strangers. You prided yourself on how talkative and warm he had become around you—only with you. Or at least, you thought he was only like that with you.

The woman slid her hand up a few inches on his thigh . That got your feet moving.

You stalked over to where he was sitting, faced away from you, his body fully angled toward the woman. To your absolute horror, as you moved closer, you started to catch their conversation.

“—you look so strong” the woman giggled, reaching out to grip his bicep.

Loki just hummed his agreement and fucking flexed his arm under her fingers.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

She oooo-ed at the show of muscle, and your fists clenched almost as tightly as your jaw.

He leaned toward her even more, his huge frame dwarfing her. “Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?”

SWEETHEART.

Your vision flashed crimson, the edges burned black.

Before she could answer, you slapped a palm down on their table to make your presence known. The woman looked up at you with wide, confused eyes, immediately retracting her hand from Loki’s thigh. Good.

He turned his head slowly, his eyes trained on you over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asked, his voice calm and even.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” you gritted out.

He didn’t move. “What do you need?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “To talk to you.”

“Well, we were about to—” the woman started to protest then caught the threatening look on your face and recoiled, scooting backward on the bench.

Something primal in your chest purred in satisfaction every time she drew away from Loki in response to your presence. You wanted to chase that feeling.

Before you could stop yourself, you moved in even more. You stood right behind where he sat on the edge of the bench, and leaned over him, one of your hands finding a home on his knee, the other draped possessively around his shoulders.

His eyes were still turned toward you, but he didn’t move. You fixed the woman with a searing gaze.

She scrunched her eyebrows, her eyes flicking between where your hands were resting on Loki’s body and up to his unmoving face, which was glued to your own face. She no longer had his attention. It was all on you.

As it should be.

“Would you give us a minute?” you asked, your lips pursed tightly in a fake smile.

The woman let out an awkward, disbelieving laugh—which was fair, you were kicking her out of her own table after all—and shuffled around the booth, getting to her feet. “Yeah, okay, I guess I’ll let you two talk.”

“Thanks so much.”

When she was gone, Loki slid along the bench, making room for you to sit. When he turned toward you, your face was set in anger again, hand still clutching his knee.

He reclined against the seat, calm as can be. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

You scoffed at him. “Uh, what the fuck was that?”

He cocked his head the tiniest bit. “What was what?”

“That little performance? That flirting? What the fuck was that?”

“It was flirting,” he deadpanned. “Well spotted.”

Your jaw fell open, and you sputtered for a moment. “You-you were just doing it to get under my skin—it was so obvious. You’re not acting like yourself at all.”

He chuckled. “If I was doing it to get under your skin, I’d say it’s working.”

You let go of his knee to cross your arms over your chest defensively. “I mean—yeah, it was pretty painful to watch you throw yourself at her like that… though that tactic seemed to work on her,” you conceded, looking away from him for a moment.

Suddenly Loki thawed, dropping his nonchalant facade and leaning toward you to rest a hand on your thigh.

“You can just say you were jealous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, ignoring the way his touch lit up all the nerves in your body.

He shrugged and continued:”You know I’d rather flirt with you, but we’re not on a mission together right now, so…”

“Yeah, well, you know what? I’m starting to rethink my policy,” you huffed.

He squeezed your thigh. “Good.”

You rolled your eyes at his smug reply. “You could have just told me that you wanted more, you know.”

“I have told you that. Many times.”

Suddenly, you felt silly. The anger that had flared so hot and bright faded, leaving you feeling exposed. You dropped your arms and sighed. He was right. This whole situation had been orchestrated by… you.

“Yeah, okay, you have.”

He crowded your space suddenly, draping his arm around your shoulder and dipping his lips down to your ear.

“And I’ll tell you again if it helps,” he growled, his voice dipping an octave

“I want you to be mine and only mine … all the time , forever kærasta”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

He drew back, settling into a relaxed position.

“now , what is it exactly what you wanted from me? Voice it out babe”

You knew exactly what you wanted. You’d known from the beginning. That possessive feeling in your chest stirred again.

You rested your hand on his knee again and looked up in his eyes. “I want that too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled up at him.

Loki stiffened, his back straightening, as your hand wandered up his thigh, settling brazenly between his legs. He was still as a statue, his breath suddenly shallow as he hardened under your touch.

“Mine,” you breathed, squeezing him lightly.

“You and that delicious dick of yours “

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki fanart #loki x you #marvel loki #loki #loki x y/n #smut #jealousy #jealous reader #love wins #lovers #i love him

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talesofadragon · 5 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

Synopsis: Centuries spent at the House of Odin have transformed the eclectic balls into familial gatherings and council meetings into morning tea rituals. The gilded walls of the castle have become home, and its royals, family. Yet, when your wisdom crosses paths with folly, affection is born unexpectedly, senselessly—a trait you’ve never been known to entertain, but one that Thor Odinson wears proudly.

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Asgardian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to sex. Jealousy. Unrequited Love. Love Triangles. LOKI. (we love him, though.)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort | Fluff | Mild Angst

Word Count: 6K (I have no regrets)

Based on this Request from my writing celebration.

All Masterlists | Sab's Wring Fest

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊 into the queen’s revered gardens, let alone assault her precious snowdrops. But rationale had long been buried deeper than Yggdrasil’s roots, allowing impulsivity to reign over you.

The white petals screeched from the force of your tug, a harsh touch you’d never known yourself capable of administering. But your assault proved relentless, flower after flower limply falling to your side. Ironically, their innocent petals congregated on the fabric of your dress, painting a tinge of beauty over your despondency.

Even in their misery, they refused to be anything but enduring. Pitiful.

“Oh, how delightfully entertaining will it be to gauge Mother’s love for you once she sees what calamity has befallen her garden by your hands.”

“Go away,” you commanded bitterly, back turned to the unwanted presence.

The god behind you neglected to comment on your tone. You heard him shuffle, his feet carefully avoiding stepping on another virtuous plant. He plopped down next to you, elegantly brushing his hands atop the neglected flower stems by your side, reviving them.

“It would be a shame to forgo free entertainment,” Loki smirked, twirling the rejuvenated snowdrop in his fingers.

You craned your head to the right, eyes burning with fire even his Jotun genes couldn’t withstand. “Pity, so many courtesans have slipped from your fingers you now have to settle for my misery for pleasure.”

Loki laughed, his shoulders shaking. His gaze retained his familiar mirth as he answered, “Would your misery be associated with a certain courtesan and an Asgardian prince... fonduing, perhaps?”

“Fonduing?” Your face twisted in disgust. “What in the Nine does that word mean?”

“I heard the spangled American Captain utter it once," Loki recalled. "It’s a euphemism for two people partaking in the biological act of reproduction.”

“What?” you scoffed in disbelief. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Loki’s wry smirk reappeared. “Mortals rarely do,” he confessed.

Your face fell at the reminder of the race you were persistently attempting to forget. Focused on your previous discourse, you had ignored the snowdrops delicately sitting in the palm of your hands. Without a second thought, you resumed your previous ministrations, gracelessly tearing apart petals from the stem.

“You do not happen, by any chance, to be superseding this flower for Thor’s meek mortal friend. Do you?” Loki asked.

“No,” you were quick to reply. “She may be as delicate as a flower, but she’s as beautiful as a Ratatoskr. What do brown eyes remind one of besides tree trunks and repugnant mud?”

“The warmth of an autumn day as the sun embraces the woodlands and shelters its inhabitants from the seasonal tumult to come,” Loki poetically recited, hands drawing figures in the air and a gleam of mischief glowing in his irises.

“Sounds tedious,” you lamented.

It earned you a scoff from Loki, though not for a lack of frivolity. “Midgardians possess this abhorrent concoction called coffee,” he informed, gaining your attention. “It’s a muddy brew that staggeringly increases one’s anxiety threshold.”

“Why would someone create such a senseless horror?”

“Perhaps to use it as a metaphor for a mortal’s brown eyes.”

You scrunched up your nose at the image of the mortal in question. “Fitting. She has such a petite stature. As feeble and brittle as her thirty-year lifespan.”

“I regret to inform you that mortals can live up to a century.”

“Irrelevant. That is still a trifle of our lifespan. And do not get me started on her vexatious disposition. Has this mortal woman been raised in a cave of trolls?”

“Well, this would certainly explain her infatuation with Thor.”

“You are not helping!”

You gathered what remained of the flowers, pelting Loki with the stem and petals. He didn’t deflect your assault, accepting your sour behavior. What you hadn’t accounted for was his retaliation. He pushed your shoulder, slightly rougher than usual, forcing you to land on a bed of flowers.

You groaned, feeling the flora entangling in your hair and their pollen dusting your dress. Loki’s dulcet amusement echoed above your head. A sharp gasp escaped him when you tugged at his emerald green robes and shoved him down. Hard.

“I did not inflict a grain of harm on you,” Loki groaned, swatting the fallen petals, which landed in his hair. “This hurts, Y/N.”

“Your pride or your head? The latter could benefit from some sense knocking into it,” you rebuked.

Loki gazed at you unimpressed. “Now is not an agreeable time to spread your wisdom, Little Goddess. You’ve clearly demonstrated your dwindling abilities when you groaned and moaned about the earthling.”

“I did no such thing! I, astutely might I add, pointed out her subpar qualities that do not mirror what Asgard is looking for in a queen—”

“Thor clearly disagrees.”

“Do not interrupt me, you venomous snake! Thor has always been a dunderhead, overthinking with his brawn and underthinking with his brains.”

“And yet, you were stupid enough to fall in love with him, Goddess of Wisdom.”

“Watch your mouth!” you spat, eyes roving the expanse of the garden to ensure no meddling ears were meandering around. “I care for your brother. But do not confuse care with admiration.”

“Devotion, Y/N. Has the human’s visit caused even your accrued lexicon to recede,” Loki taunted. Had it not been for your skirts in the way and your position on the ground, you would’ve kicked him so hard in certain nether regions that he would’ve sung to Valhalla.

“I stand by what I said.”

“Apologies, Little Goddess. Allow me, as the God of Lies, to refute your statement. Both metaphorically and in the literal sense.”

That filthy little python. You scoffed, perhaps a little more at yourself than him. He elicited the responses he desired, painting a mockery out of you and your feelings. You knew you couldn’t debate the matter with him more than you already had. As the God of Lies and your, unfortunately, best friend, he’d always have the upper hand in this matter.

So, you stood up and dusted your skirts. If you weren't winning, then participating in this debate was of no use.

“Where are you going?” Loki inquired, an underlying tone of merriment hiding beneath his words.

Your eyes squinted, regarding him with indignation. “You have effectively sullied my mood even further. Your mother’s beautiful flowers do not deserve more ill will at my hands. Therefore, I’m taking my leave.”

If Loki had said anything after your response, your mind had elected to ignore it. Huffing aloud, you marched toward the castle, uncaring for the traces of mud and the wealth of fallen petals that trailed behind. On a regular day, you would’ve been more mindful, casting a simple cleaning spell to polish your appearance and ensure the poor attendants of the Odin Household would not have to partake in more work than necessary. But your anger and heartbreak had been immeasurable enough to deny you any act besides sulking over the mortal woman Thor had ignorantly brought along to Asgard.

The Norns, much like Loki, must’ve been taking pleasure in your predicament. You had rounded the corner, one gilded hallway separating you from the castle’s entrance, when the silhouette of the Crown Prince appeared.

Unlike the ladies of the court, your admiration for Thor did not stem from his ethereal beauty. It bloomed like Freyja’s primroses, a sturdy seedling that, with time, opened its foliage to a world of wonder and ardor. He was a cosmic presence—a child of the sun, with light and fire dancing around his immaculate frame in wisps of enchantment, leaving every woman breathless. Including you.

“Lady Y/N!” Thor’s voice reverberated in the long hallway, laced with excitement. "I hadn't anticipated your presence today. No wonder the day exudes such radiance."

His comment made heat rise to your cheeks. It was almost as if he had shared his warmth with you, sending it trekking along his words to your heart. You smiled at him, demure and saccharine. But your lips downturned once another presence, one less noticeable or agreeable, appeared behind him.

You cleared your throat, attempting to restrain your unease as you greeted, “Thor, Mistress Foster.”

Norns burn you if you call her by the same title you bear. The earthling, as Loki so eloquently worded it, could not match you.

Without a greeting nor a poised lexicon, the Midgardian inquired, “Why are your clothes dirty?”

Her question intrigued Thor enough for his eyes to rove your body. The warmth that had settled in your veins morphed into the embers of Helheim. You felt small and brittle under the scrutiny of his penetrating gaze.

“I beg your pardon?” you fired back promptly, indignation concealing the shame you felt at your soiled image.

Your words caused the mortal to pale, head swiveling to Thor’s side in anxiousness and trepidation. “I apologize, my lady,” she rectified her earlier statement. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Well, you certainly were, you internally chastised.

Thor took another look at your attire, meticulously examining the fabric. You endeavored to compose yourself, resisting the urge to shift your weight from one foot to another. His hand reached for your arm, his thumb sweeping across your elbow. “Are you well, Lady Y/N? You look… disheveled.”

You immediately retracted your arm, fearing his senses might pick up on your galloping heart. “I am quite alright. I was with Loki in the gardens,” you supplied.

“Loki?” The mortal regarded you with an air of cynicism. Your blood boiled at her brashness. “What were you and Loki doing in the gardens?”

“Have you no tact, you imprudent minger? Although your kind lacks sensibility and decorum, you ought to address those of elevated stature with respect while in their dominion! Neither Prince Loki nor I are your comrades to tolerate such crass mannerisms.”

“I’m… my sincerest apologies, I didn’t think—”

“Thinking is not as sparse on Asgard as it is on Earth. If you find yourself incapable of harnessing a modicum of wisdom when addressing me, then you are in the presence of the wrong Goddess.”

"Y/N," Thor interjected, his omission of your title not slipping past your notice. Nor did you miss the hand that reached out for the mortal girl.

His actions only served to fan the flames of your jealousy and hurt. Almost a millennium of knowing that male, and he had chosen a measly mortal's side over yours.

“Do not patronize me!” you ordered, jamming a finger in his broad, muscular chest. “I am not the right audience for your feigned, princely performance.”

Thor squeezed the mortal’s hand in reassurance, tugging her further to his side—as if to shield her from you. He craned his face lower to meet your gaze. Endearing as you'd always found it, it made you uneasy at this moment.

"You seem overly emotional today,” he inquired, voice low and delicate, juxtaposing his chosen words. “Has Loki said something to upset you?"

You cracked. How dare he?

“Loki may perhaps be the only male in all of Asgard who possesses an ounce of empathy and understanding when it comes to my feelings and disposition,” you snapped back, ignoring how your words seemed to slap Thor in the face. “He has been my best friend for close to a millennium and is one of the princes of this realm. So if I, as a lady of the court, find that your little mortal is besmirching his name, the least I could do is call her out on it!”

Your outburst held more weight than you had anticipated, managing to leave Thor speechless. He regarded you with an air of perplexion, his mouth open—seemingly unsure of what response was fair in this situation.

You didn’t want to waste any further time in his or the mortal’s company. You grunted, walking away. The sound of your footfall ringing louder than deemed honorable for a lady.

“Y/N, wait!” Thor called out after you, his hand shooting up to grab your arm. Though he was massively built, with the strength and mass of Asgard lying on his shoulders, his shy grasp fluttered against your skin. Featherlike, it tickled your nerves, sending a chorus of tenderness through your pulse.

You turned around, a mask of stoicism hiding your feelings. “Yes?”

“I appreciate your inclination to defend my brother, but, I, and Jane, were merely concerned over your well-being—”

“Accusing Loki of maltreatment!” you reminded Thor, swiftly retracting your arm from his grasp.

He sighed, placing both hands on his hips. You loathed how small he made you feel before the mortal. “You are exaggerating.”

“And you are heedless! Whatever Loki and I were doing in the gardens is none of your or the mortal’s concern! What’s it to you both? Maybe we decided to fondue. We do not get in your business, so do not meddle in ours!”

No sooner had the words left your mouth than your legs commanded you to retreat to another room. You didn’t understand why you had said that. Your wisdom melted into a puddle whenever Thor and his little pet were involved.

When had you become so insensitive?

Mistress Foster left. Her visit didn’t amass more than a fortnight's worth of frustrations before King Odin had deemed her visit long. If an immortal God such as Odin Allfather perceived these days as anything but transient, then Jane Foster was truly a nuisance in her own right.

The knowledge of her absence, particularly on this day, overjoyed you. The Vernal Equinox served as a portent of hope for Asgard—embracing prominent figures from neighboring realms in celebration of Asgard’s princes and in anticipation of the future.

In loose terms, it presented the Asgardian royalty with a wealth of eligible females to choose from as the next princess and queen of the realm. In broader terms, it was another opportunity to observe Loki and Thor merrily charm the ladies to appease Odin and Frigga—while satiating particular desires on the side.

You dismissed your ladies in waiting, taking a deep breath as you pulled open the door. Your feigned smile fell, and the familiar trepidation rose when you saw who stood by the door.

“Fondue?” Loki snickered, mischief practically waltzing in his bejeweled eyes. “Darling Y/N, had I known you were inclined to roll in my sheets, I would’ve bedded you centuries sooner.”

You grabbed him by the fabric of his tailored robes, pulling him harshly toward your rooms. “I panicked!” you grumbled. It was barely heard over the deafening sound of his amusement.

“Well, you certainly rectified your error by pulling me into your chambers.”

“Shut up!”

“Ah, my Little Goddess. How exquisitely appetizing do you look,” he joked, purposely raising his voice.

You jumped on him, a screech tearing through your vocal cords. Loki laughed louder, trying to grasp your hands as you assaulted him with your fists. You hadn’t expected him to bite your finger.

“You bastard!” you seethed, cradling your hand.

“What was that, Y/N? You want it faster?”

“Loki!!”

“Ah, tell me how good it feels,” he mused.

You were not impressed. “You are an idiot,” you retorted.

Your argument, if you could call it that, receded rather swiftly. You refused to look at Loki, rolling your eyes and settling them on your vanity. You weren’t frustrated, per se. Loki always had a knack for playing with your feelings like they were puppets on a string. Not in a malevolent way. The matter was, if your gaze caught him, you knew the little impish snake would expose the laughter he had succeeded in digging out of you.

Loki’s voice caught you before your thoughts meandered further. “You’re wearing the wrong colors.”

You looked down at yourself, your silver shoes peeking from the fabric of your long blue dress. It was light azure. Quaint and placid. An exterior representation of the feelings you were chasing. The fabric was tulle, whimsical and, airy like Spring’s birds merrily dancing across cloudless Asgardian sky. Its off-shoulder design, adorned with gleaming silver gems and bishop sleeves, accentuated your elegance and grace. A Goddess. A member of the House of Odin, even if you didn’t have a crown.

“If you’re insinuating I ought to have worn your brother’s colors, then I regret to inform you, that you were mistaken.”

Loki shook his head as a mischievous shadow passed over his face. “You’d appear desperate. And you, Y/N, are anything but.”

“Then what colors were you referencing?” you asked, brows creasing in thought. “Surely not your own.”

“Mine, no. But the witless oaf doesn’t have to know that.”

You didn’t comprehend whatever it was he was insinuating. Wordlessly, Loki twirled his fingers, a thread of emerald green seidr tantalizing your sight. He flicked his wrist. The magical trail shot from his fingertips to your dress, deftly pirouetting along the light azure tulle.

The colors changed from blue to green and silver to gold. The boldness of your outfit contrasted with the muted portrait you tried to paint earlier. You studied your dress, eyes roving the fabric before examining Loki’s attire. You almost scolded him for putting you in his colors when you did not intend for your farce to go further than it did. But then you noticed these colors, chosen by Loki, were darker than his.

It was a subtle contrast, discerned when in closer proximity to the God of Mischief. The royal family could immediately catch the difference. The ladies, though, wouldn’t be able to. Neither would Thor.

“Is this a wise choice?” you asked, playing with the sleeves of your dress.

Loki took your hand in his, kissing the back of it. “The answer lies with you, Little Goddess.”

Wise, maybe not. Fun? It certainly would be. You couldn’t remember the last time you went to these festivities without constantly having to clutch your heart at the thought of Thor.

“It’s a mutual agreement,” you answered diligently. “This keeps the ladies and Thor away.”

Loki tutted. “This keeps the witless oaf’s mind working. He has stashed his wits so far beneath the surface, the cobwebs have devoured them whole.”

“And you think this alliance between wisdom and mischief will decontaminate his head from thoughts of the impertinent mortal?”

“I believe my brother is a hopeless case. If it works, then by all means, enjoy the fruits of our labor. If it doesn’t, then enjoy the privilege of my company.”

“Your company?” you chortled, wrapping your arm around his elbow. “Lokes, I’ll be gracing you with mine.”

He mimicked your chortle, beginning to lead you out of the room. "I must admit, your presence has staggeringly illuminated my days in Asgard. Father is covertly hoping that I ask for your hand in marriage."

"And Frigga?" you asked, aware of Loki's deep affection for his mother and her opinion.

He covered your hand, which rested on his arm, with his free one, leaning closer to your ear. "She much prefers you with Thor." You blushed, a crimson hue spreading across your cheeks. Loki took delight in your sheepishness. "You could spare me the hassle of sifting through noble ladies by accepting a marriage proposal, Y/N. I immensely enjoy roleplay in the bedroom. And though I do not wish to lay eyes on certain biological regions of my brother, I can indulge you if that is what you fancy."

"I fancy your silence, you brute!" you chastised, stomping on his foot.

Loki barely flinched, but he placed some distance between you both. He opened the door, and before you could venture beyond your bedroom, he positioned himself in your line of sight. "You forgot something, darling." The nickname felt foreign, especially when unaccompanied by your first name. Before you could inquire about it, you felt a shimmer of magic raking through your hair.

"What did you do?"

Loki smiled fondly, passing his fingers through your loose hair. "Turned you from a goddess to a princess."

Your gaze locked with his as you lifted your fingers to your head. There was a weight there, not something unbearable but undeniably foreign. Your fingers traced the contours of what you assumed was a diadem.

"What was that for?"

Loki stepped closer to you, his taller frame engulfing yours, cocooning you with his body heat. His lips settled on your forehead, his fingers intertwining with yours. You blinked, mind racing to figure out the parameters of his new trick. “You’re precious, Y/N,” he confessed breathlessly, his voice almost vulnerable. “More valuable than the troves of Asgard and the magic of Yggdrasil. And by the Norns, whoever forsakes your treasured company deserves to be bereft of your radiance, ensnared by the unforgiving grasp of Helheim for their sacrilege, Little Queen.”

For the first time in your 800 years of life, you found yourself at a loss for words in response to Loki's. His words were carefully chosen, poignant, and endearing, befitting his poetic prowess. Yet, something about the declaration felt amiss; a subtle discordance that unsettled you. It was then, out of the corner of your eye, that you caught sight of Thor.

His cerulean eyes, usually bright with warmth, were now veiled in darkness, glinting with a silver sheen you had never seen before. Thor's demeanor betrayed a mix of emotions, his features clouded with anger and a hint of betrayal. Before you could utter a word, he turned and left, his bloody red ceremonial attire fading from view.

Loki's intentions became clearer then. He sought to deceive Thor. But why would such words incite his brother's ire? And why had Loki chosen to describe you as such?

This Vernal Equinox proved to be different. You couldn’t categorize it as either good or bad as you had yet to comprehend your perplexing emotions about the celebration. The familiar joviality and folly were missing given that Loki and Thor seemed to have reversed their roles.

Content with you on his arm, Loki’s charade persisted well into the late hours of the evening. He kept you to his side, not that you minded, twirling, discoursing, and occasionally, joking about the whole ordeal. The nobles, courtiers, and ladies had all presumed you debuting, your green dress a declaration of your choice in contenders. If not for that, then the golden diadem on your head

Frigga and Odin seemed to know better. The Allfather offered you and his youngest no more than a feeble smile, pleased to see you and Loki together, even though he knew this was all but a farce. The Allmother, while graceful as ever, did not attempt to mask her errant gaze, her bright eyes dimming as she looked at Thor.

The older son, heir to the throne of Asgard, had forgone merriment in favor of appeasing the ladies. Given that Loki had monopolized your time, all of the wayward bachelorettes traveled toward Thor. No lady was cast aside, each receiving a handful of minutes with the prince. And though that should’ve hurt you, the ache in your heart could only be attributed to the misery Thor wore.

You and Loki drifted toward Sif and the Warriors Three since Thor had abandoned his usual idle chatter and reckless drinking. Hours later, Fandral was on the verge of passing out, Hogun was inebriated yet still standing, while Volstagg recounted one of the ancient battles on Alfheim to Loki and Sif.

When it was an hour past midnight, you excused yourself from the festivities, claiming you were too tired to continue.

In truth, sleep evaded you. Your mind inundated with thoughts. But you didn’t allow yourself to entertain one more question or idea, letting your feet guide you wherever they preferred.

You reached one of the castle’s balconies, a small one on the right side of the ballroom. You could still hear the music from the festivities, although it was a gentle hum. Euphonious and dulcet, serving as the perfect ballad in the backdrop. The sky lit up, gleaming stars strewn across the darkness. You wondered if they were the Norns’ portents. If you could wish upon them and the world would hum in answer.

The sound of retreating footsteps pulled your attention away from the sky. You knew that silhouette anywhere.

“Thor?” the word tumbled from your lips before you could fully register what the night had brought.

Thor’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t respond, almost as if contemplating whether to provide you with an answer or ignore your presence. He sighed, broad shoulders deflating, before he turned around.

“I apologize, Lady Y/N. I was not aware the area was preoccupied.”

“You need not to apologize, Thor,” you stated, unsure where his usual boldness had gone. “The area is large enough to accommodate both of us.”

It almost looked as though Thor would decline your offer. His blue eyes wandered, from you to the horizon then back. He regarded you in an unfamiliar way, taking in your appearance. You didn’t want him to catch sight of your fluster, so you turned your back to him, getting lost in the sight of Asgard at night.

When you thought Thor would leave, you heard him make his way to your side.

“I wish to apologize to you, Y/N,” he whispered, uncertainly. Not because he did not mean it, no. You knew Thor well enough to tell when he was lying about something. Your friendship with Loki illuminating his brother’s traits further. Thor leaned on his side, the banister supporting his weight. His demeanor was brittle, a far cry from what you had known. Your breath was lost in your throat, unsure whether you should gasp or sob. A step forward and there would be no distance between the both of you. You never wanted to hug him more. “Had I known you and my brother were…” He paused, taking in a shaky breath. “...Courting. Had I known, neither I nor Jane would have adopted such an insensitive tone before.”

You shook your head, fingers tingling to reach out for him. “We’re…Loki and I we’re…” But you couldn’t complete your sentence. A part of you imploring to deny Thor’s claim. Another fearing Thor’s distance if you admitted the truth.

“An odd combination,” Thor smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Mischief and Counsel. Wisdom and Lies.”

“They’re opposite sides of the same coin. Perhaps, that’s why they work better than expected,” you defended, unsure why.

Thor nodded, the same meek smile unerased. He looked down at his feet, strands of his blond hair covering his face. It had grown taller from the last time he had cut it on Midgard. Now resting upon his shoulders. As if he needed more weight to bear.

“I must admit that he might be the luckiest one between us both. And he does not even know it?”

Your hand shot up involuntarily, clutching at the golden jewels across the bodice of your dress. “How so?” you asked, your thumb circling the fabric in a futile attempt at soothing your heartache at Thor’s tone.

One of Thor’s hands glided across the banister, landing where yours had laid. While his gaze held your face, your eyes couldn’t help but land on his larger hand. “Loki presumes I cannot tell his ire at the court ladies galivanting to my side. He has always been too forlorn to understand that numbers have mattered not to me.” His hand dared to reach for yours then, a featherlike caress that made your heart gallop faster than Sleipnir. “Those who choose me over Loki desire nothing more than the throne. I have nothing else to offer. No wit, no literary aptitude, or poetic charm. I am nothing but brutish and capricious. It takes a no great amount of ardor to love my brother. It takes a kingdom to love someone like me.”

You retracted your hand, the action so unexpected and harsh, Thor jumped back in surprise. He opened his mouth, perhaps to apologize, but he closed it when he saw the expression you wore. Silver misted your irises, decayed and morose, mirroring the disheartenment that haunted you.

“How can you say that?” you questioned—shrieked, even. Tears cascaded down your cheeks, your hands clawing at your dress because of the pain you felt. “Who…who made you feel as such?”

“Y/N—”

“No, Thor! You cannot utter such insidious words in my presence! You are kind, tender, and caring. A summer’s breath, warm and ecstatic. In your fierceness, you wield passion, and in your tempest resides the strength to protect. You are worthy of many things, Thor Odinson. And love is atop that wealth. I would forgo the world’s realms and riches to bask in the light of your affection.”

The words that traversed the distance between were not measured nor were they second-guessed. You had not the time to question your affections, wondering if it was worth bringing them to light or not. But you needed Thor to understand that what he felt, the dejectedness and loneliness, were unwarranted.

You need to touch him, embrace him—assure his heart that he was worthy, and if you couldn’t do it physically, then your words had to suffice.

Thor stood there, his expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something akin to hope. He reached out tentatively, brushing away the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “Y/N…”

You allowed his thumb to trace the skin beneath your eyes before wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace, burying your face in his chest. Once, you thought to yourself. Even if this was a lie, I’ll gladly entertain it, just this once.

“Those ladies who crave your affections for the crown are not worthy of you. Even if you were the second son, even if the Norns had created you a mortal, you would still be worthy, Thor. You would still be loved.”

Thor’s hands traveled from your back. One moved up to cradle your head while the other rested on your lower back, cradling you closer to his chest. You could hear his heartbeats frantically drumming against his rib cage. Almost as if they were loud enough to create their own melody.

You felt Thor plant a kiss atop of your head, close to where the diadem lay. He swayed with you in his arms, hold on you tightening and unwilling to let go. “You’re precious, Y/N,” he recited the words with complete reverence. Their familiarity registered, but you didn’t have time to question him before he continued, “More valuable than the troves of Asgard and the magic of Yggdrasil. And by the Norns, whoever forsakes your treasured company deserves to be bereft of your radiance, ensnared by the unforgiving grasp of Helheim for their sacrilege, Little Queen.”

A sharp gasp escaped your lips. “What did you just say?” you questioned, still nestled in his protective embrace.

“Loki did not compose this prose,” Thor confessed, his eyes dark with hesitation. “I wrote it. Two hundred years ago. For you.”

“What?” you breathed, the word splintering with emotion.

“I…I have always felt a connection to you. A sense of calm. Your wisdom and grace, but above all, your charm and wit captured my heart before I even knew it.”

“You never said anything,” you reminded, blinking harshly against the realization.

“How could I?” Thor’s thumb brushed the side of your mouth, drawing a choked whimper from you. “You are elegant while I am rough. A prince by title, but not by manner—”

“Do not belittle yourself in my presence.”

Thor chuckled softly, his gaze just as gentle.

“You are the Goddess of Wisdom, Little Queen.” That nickname—the Norns damn it—stirred emotions in you that you had never felt before. “What wisdom would there be in associating with the God of Thunder?”

“Is that why you distanced yourself?” The question was thick with unspoken feelings. “Is that why…why you chose Jane?” Over me. Your thought was left unspoken.

Thor’s expression darkened with remorse, his features shadowed by regret. “Have you never noticed the similarities between you two?”

“What similarities?”

“She is a smart woman. Accomplished, fastidious, attentive, and resilient despite her delicate appearance. Just as you are.”

“She is a mortal,” you countered.

Thor nodded solemnly. “She cannot be made a queen. Not in the eyes of the Asgardians.”

“Then why—”

“It would be easier to gauge her choice.” Thor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. You realized too late that he was pulling away, keeping you at arm’s length. “As I said.” His gaze traveled the expanse of your body, regret permeating the air suddenly. “Those who choose me do it for Asgard’s throne. Those who choose my brother do it for love,” he reiterated, brokenly. He added in a more fractured tone, “You look stupendous in emerald green, my lady.”

“Viridian,” you corrected, evoking his bafflement. “It’s viridian green, a darker shade than emerald. Truthfully, I had opted for my own colors. But Loki approached my chambers before I could leave, and he all but decided to trick the court to his own advantage.”

“You’re not… you’re not courting Loki?”

You shook your head. “No. He and I have long been friends.”

“Friends,” Thor repeated, but there was a shift in the air when he said the word—as if Valhalla’s gates had opened and the angels descended to Asgard, humming their dulcet ballads.

“Tell me that’s not what we were,” you ventured, figuring that courage ought to accompany wisdom. “Tell me after all that was said and done that we weren’t just friends.”

You expected Thor to flounder, to grapple with an answer to your demand. “It wouldn’t make sense,” he attested. “It wouldn’t make sense if that were all we were, Little Queen.”

The angels of Valhalla must have roared, not sung, because as soon as Thor had breathed those words, tentative and full of fealty, his lips captured your own. You understood then, the complexity that arose from his role as God of Thunder. Your lips were in a fray, lapping at each other, wet and thunderous as you were conquered by his veneration. His large hands grabbed at your bottom, hoisting you up in the air. Your dress didn’t allow you the pleasure of wrapping your legs around his waist, but that didn’t stop you from clutching at his clothes, his hair, his soul.

Thor’s lips caressed your own. There was no set direction to their motion, almost as if he couldn’t decide whether to take it slow or devour you whole. The noises you made, the noises he made, small and mellow, reverberated in the empty space, adding to the symphony of your love and desire.

You didn’t want to pull away. Latching to the thunder and lightning invading your senses, getting lost in the storm.

A shiver ran down your entire body, accentuated by Thor’s teeth nipping at your lower lip. “Y/N,” he whispered breathlessly.

Your eyes opened, your image framed by his irises—protectively and vehemently.

He settled you on the ground, lips widening at your sight. “My colors suit you best.”

You didn’t understand what he had meant until you looked down. Your clothes had changed color. Again. The accent of your attire shifted to a bold red and silver.

“You best not attempt to produce an heir tonight, brother,” Loki sounded from behind Thor. He wore a smug smirk, leaning against one of the balcony pillars. Of course that bastard followed you. “Our chambers are nearby, and I do not need to hear my brother and best friend fondue.”

You blushed, cheeks turning crimson. Thor didn’t even spare Loki a glance, focusing his attention on you. “Little Queen, you look magnificent in my colors strewn across every inch of your body.”

And before you could help yourself, you boldly claimed, “I would look even more magnificent with your love marks strewn across every inch of my body.”

Thor’s eyes darkened, a primal yearning painting his irises with desire. He tugged at your hands then, pulling you to his chest. “Let me mark you with centuries worth of love, Little Queen. Allow me to show you what lesser beings cannot do.”

“Show me, my God.”

You drowned in his ardent storm, uncaring for the waves, noise, or the chaos. It was senseless. Everything you never were. Everything Thor was. Everything you, deep down, longed to feel with him.

Thank you @crazyunsexycool for this request! It was so fun to write for Thor, you can tell since this turned out to be 6K words🥹 I couldn't stop! Seriously, this might've been my favorite fic ever! Thank you for participating in my celebration. ♥️

I might extend my writing celebration if more requests come in. For all those interested, please feel free to follow the link!

I hope you like this one, witchlings. Okay, byeeee.

#thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x you #thor x reader #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor odinson x y/n #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x you #loki odinson x you #loki odinson x reader #loki and reader are friends #jealous thor #thor odinson fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #thor and reader fondue #sab's writing celebration

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