#loki fanfction

[monstersandgenderqueers]

Amaranth (Ch. 2)

You figured that he won't kill you. Yet. So, you brought him inside like a stray pet. Loki is a bit of a puzzle that you're itching to solve. Unsurprisingly, he felt the same way about you.

Chapter 2 of ?

Word Count: 2094

Pairing: Loki x gn!reader

Chapter warnings: light descriptions of injuries

Prev: Prologue ; Chapter One

A/N: Pay no mind to the awful flirting. I'm terrible at it in real life, so it's only fair that any character I write would be the same. Divider credit @/saradika

If you were being honest with yourself, it felt nice. Maybe it had been too long since the last time someone dared touch you so intimately. Loki's grip tightened when you made no move to free yourself. Did your calm demeanor unnerve him? His hand squeezed your arm until you couldn't feel your fingertips. He released your mouth to grab your chin instead, holding your head still but allowing you to speak if you so desired.

By all accounts, it felt so real. The warm puffs of air that caressed your ear as he spoke, the heat that seeped into your skin from his hands, even the crunching of the gravel under his boots as he shifted his weight closer to your center of gravity. All senses pointed towards this Loki being real. Except, you knew it wasn't. You couldn't feel the energy coming from whatever it was that stood behind you.

You could, however, hear something subtle coming from behind the tree the crows had flown away from moments before. Not with your ears, of course. Loki was far too stealthy. But, the clear droning from the tree was interrupted by something that thrummed wildly.

You raised your voice more than necessary, to be sure he could hear you from his hiding place, "Is this doing anything for you? Watching from the shadows like some pervert?" You tsked, keeping your eyes on your crushed flowers.

The Loki behind you let go and then disappeared, leaving behind only a chill and the tingling in your arm as blood returned to your fingers.

Loki—the real one, you hoped—took a step out from behind the tree and leaned heavily against the trunk. "You're more perceptive than other mortals. Far more than I gave you credit for when we first met."

"I wouldn't call sneaking up behind me a first meeting."

He tutted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I meant long before, in that crude skyscraper your friend erected in his name." You cringed a bit. Could he not have phrased that any other way?

It took a moment to recall what he was hinting at. You were in New York when the Chitauri attacked, but you weren't an Avenger back then. At that time, you were little more than the equivalent of an intern, maybe an apprentice at one point. You certainly didn't believe Loki would have any reason to remember you, the same way you didn't remember having met him straight away.

Almost like he knows what you're thinking, he smirked, then his dulcet voice drifted over to you, "If I recall correctly, you were being escorted back inside the building by security when Stark stopped you." He paused, wondering if you truly remembered or not. "You stared at me quite intently. Directly into my eyes, I might add. Were you searching for something, darling?"

Ah. That. 

Beneath the inappropriate 'flirting', Loki was telling the truth. You did stare at him for a long time when you crossed by on your way back into the tower. His features were more sunken in back then, his face was a sickly, pasty color that only served to bring more attention to the darkness under his eyes. 

He looked defeated in every which way, except for in his eyes. You remember that part clearly. Relief. That was what you saw in his eyes that day, and that was most definitely why you held eye contact for so long. You were curious as to why you saw that emotion, even if it was likely only your poor interpretation of the situation.

That, and the muzzle. Your eyes had lingered on that part for a second or two. It cut into his skin ever so slightly, and you could tell he had a million things to say and not a single one of those words would have been true. 

You sighed, wiping that image from your mind before it got any ideas. "With the way you're talking to me, you should've been kept muzzled. Permanently."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Careful, darling. You're giving away your personal tastes."

"Would you stop doing that? Calling me 'darling'?"

"Oh, but you look like someone who desperately needs to be called darling—"

What does that even mean? "Ew, no. If you want me to help you, or whatever, you have to at least try to be decent." His smirk only grows. His mouth opens, but you interrupt him again, "What are you even doing here? I thought you died?"

He looks around for a moment, thinking. "Would you mind if we took this inside? I am famished."

You rolled your eyes. Truthfully, you knew you shouldn't trust him at all, given how he's supposed to be dead. But, before you cut contact with everyone, Thor shared a few stories about Loki, including what he did before his supposed death.

Too tired and wound up to think of it any longer, you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't like it would matter much if he betrayed that frayed strand of trust, anyway. How bad could it be?

Loki sat at your dining table, watching you as you turned on the kettle and grabbed your leftovers from the fridge. He assessed your home, his eyes zeroed in on the details as if he were looking for something. He turned to you just as you put the plate in the microwave. "Darling, I've heard of the 'minimalist movement', but I never quite expected it to be so seedy. Does your designer live in a garbage bin, by any chance?"

You glared at him. "I thought we agreed you would stop calling me 'darling'."

"We didn't agree on anything. It was all in jest, dear. Nevertheless, I shall abide by your rules for the time being." He plastered on a smile as if to show his sincerity, but it was as uncanny as the rest of his appearance.

You sighed in lieu of a proper response. You knew he was goading you --his tone was more patronizing than flirtatious. Though, you still gave him a sideways glance… and then another. Something was definitely off, but not in the same way as the clone had been.

Once microwaved, you set the plate of mushy 'food' in front of him. You let him eat a few bites before bluntly asking, "Why do you smell like blood?"

He paused mid-bite, assessing you. "I am fine," he said, a bit sharper than he meant. He kept his eyes on you during the entire meal, just as you did, with your hips leant against the countertop. Loki stared as you idly brewed some tea, plopping tea bags into chipped mugs.

It was silent and tense as the two of you leered at each other, waiting for the other to speak first.

Loki sighed, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Curiously, he asked, "How did you know that it wasn't me?" When you looked at him, confused, he elaborated, "In your garden. You knew it wasn't me that had grabbed you, but an illusion. How?"

He waited for you to answer, his muscles more tense the longer it took you to reply. This one is more dangerous than I had assumed, he thought. A witch? A sorcerer? The teasing attitude he started with morphed into something with an edge.

Loki was confused when you shrugged, seeming to brush off something so incredible. You confounded him.

You sat down with your own tea, and answered, "I just sort of felt it. That clone, or whatever, didn't feel alive like everything else. And then I could feel your energy behind the tree, so…" you trailed off, looking at the wood grain of your dining table.

He raised his brow, taken aback. Very few had been able to tell the difference between reality and any of his illusions, unless they had seen him conjure them in the first place. Mostly everyone except his mother, that is, but he never got the chance to ask if it was because she taught him how to cast illusions, or if she just knew him well enough to know.

With a thousand questions that ran through his mind, he decided on the more urgent ones. "Tell me where I am," he said, more of a command than a question.

"My house."

He visibly held back a groan.

"Fine. We're in New York, north of NYC." 

His face and shoulders relaxed just a bit. "Do you know where Thor is?"

It was your turn to bite back a groan. It looked like you wouldn't be able to avoid a trip to New Asgard, after all. Even if you could just toss Loki off of your property, it didn't feel right to just give him directions. He may look princely and composed, but he gave off the energy of a cat that fell into water.

"Yes. I do."

Shortly after Loki finished his meal, and ravaged the scraps in your fridge, he followed you up the stairs to the upper floor, and then into the sparse 'guest' bedroom. You had half a mind to apologize for the squeaky metal frame that held the lumpy twin mattress and the discarded, hoarded items tucked into the closet. However, his curt nod silenced you before you even spoke, and he shut the door practically in your face.

He heard you breathe out a heavy sigh and walk away, likely towards your own room down the hall. Loki listened more intently, hearing muffled voices coming from the other side of the house. He assumed you were talking on the phone. He couldn't quite make out who you were talking to, but after hearing no mention of his name nor anything related to him, he let a deep breath out.

For now, it seemed that he wouldn't have to sneak away in the dead of night, though he kept that in mind as he pondered the question of how to do so if you could tell when he was tricking you. THe lack of an explanation of how your 'gift' worked ate away at him.

Loki opened the small door beside him, and nearly moaned in relief when he saw a clawfoot tub. He was glad to see that you weren't too neglectful of the unused rooms in your home—the tub was clean, and only a few specks of lint dotted the bottom. He turned on the faucet and smiled when the water came out clear, and it only took a short while to fill the tub with hot water.

He let the illusion drop, the cuts and bruises on his skin becoming clear as he took stock of the damage in the mirror. His hair was matted with blood—a cut ran halfway down his scalp, and it burned and throbbed. 

Loki could deal with it later.

He peeled off his clothes and let them fall to the tile, far too exhausted to use more magic than necessary.

Though he survived the fall after the shuttle exploded shortly after entering the atmosphere, Loki knew he had at least a few fractures. The bruises that blossomed over his ribs and hips were certainly proof that even gods could be injured.

The water turned murky the moment he stepped in. He knew he should hurry, wash up and get some rest to restore what energy he could in case he needed more than illusions to save his skin.

But, his mind kept switching back and forth between trusting you. It was unsettling, the way you saw him. How calm you were despite someone like him crashing at your feet. He'd learned to read people early on, a necessary skill he developed when he first realized that the kind words and praises sent his way were often false.

He knew you were genuine. He'd seen it in the tower years ago, when you first looked at him with no hint of malice or fear. Only curiosity, perhaps even worry.

Even today, you met his wit with your own, and he could feel that you didn't edit your thoughts much before speaking. You weren't nearly as evasive as he had been.

He still couldn't keep his mind from thinking about it, though, that maybe you had called for backup, and he'd open the bathroom door to find someone waiting for him with more shackles. He sighed and sunk deeper into the tub, feeling the water swirl around his hair in a minute, gentle current.

Loki could worry later. For now, he could let himself rest.

[sarahscribbles]

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟗𝟕𝟒

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Both hands slam onto the wooden headboard with such force that the entire bed frame seems to shake, and through half lidded eyes you watch your knuckles change colour against the wood. It isn’t the first time you’ve assaulted the bed frame this evening, and with the way Loki’s tongue is skillfully sliding through your cunt while you straddle his face, it won’t be the last. 

His quiet hum of satisfaction floats up from between your thighs, and the soft vibrations are enough to have you flutter wildly around him. You chance a glimpse down at the god who’s been lying between your legs for the past half hour, moaning softly at the gloriously debauched sight that meets your eyes. 

Loki is lying contentedly among the pile of pillows on your bed, ink black curls fanned out around him and a pretty pink blush staining his cheeks while he pleasures you. Elegant fingers are curled tightly around your thighs to hold you in place, gripping you so tightly that you anticipate a tiny line of bruises will form by the morning. 

He’s a work of art, really. 

“You are fucking gorgeous.” You can’t help but praise him, because there’s no sight on Earth comparable to Loki’s head between your legs. His answering deep hum sends a sharp ripple of pleasure twisting through your core, pulling a satisfied groan from your parted lips in its wake.  

It’s impossible to tear your eyes from him as he lies between your legs. Each sinful swirl of his tongue and appreciative moan goes straight to your head, but then he moves his head just enough for you to catch the shine of your own arousal coating the tip of his nose and upper lip. That alone is almost enough to send you into orbit, that is, until Loki’s eyes lock with yours and he licks a long, slow line along the length of your cunt, pulling you as close to his mouth as he physically can. 

It feels so good, so blindingly good, that for a second you’re unable to speak, unable to do anything but drown in the warm, wet feel of Loki’s tongue.

Your hands curl tighter around the headboard, but you don’t take your eyes of Loki for even a second. “Fucking…menace!” you cry out, only to feel him smile against your cunt as he returns to teasing and taunting. “Loki, I - fuck!” Whatever you were about to say is swiftly lost when he then dips that skilled tongue inside you. 

All you can manage is a strangled whimper while he fucks you with his tongue. He’s expertly building you towards the edge, in the gloriously depraved way that only he can, and you send up an unending stream of thanks to the universe that this god loves you.

Because no one before him has ever been so attuned to your pleasure, or so eager to ceaselessly place it before their own. 

“Nothing arouses me more than pleasuring you, dove.” He had said little over half an hour ago, silencing your objections as he had coaxed you over his face. 

That beautiful face is now peering up at you with reverence, as though he’s ached to worship you all his life and tonight you’ve granted his every wish. His tongue laps at your cunt with something close to desperation and, not five minutes later, you feel his hands slide along your thighs to grip your hips, clamping you firmly against his face to give his undivided attention to your clit. 

You clench wildly on top of him, beginning to rock your hips in an attempt to chase the release that’s building like a storm in your core. “Fuck, Loki, keep doing that! Please, please, please!” you plead with him. 

The coil in your core is twisted tight and about to snap, promising a blinding release. It’s glittering before you like a new star - all you need is that wickedly talented tongue.  

Curses and pleas continue to fall like spring rain from your lips, and Loki is the ever benevolent god. Before long, your climax crashes down around you with such force it rips the breath from your lungs. Tiny stars dance at the edges of your eyes and you grind wildly against your lover's face. 

Loki watches you intently, his eyes sparkling as you come undone for him. You make sure to cry out his name as soon as you’re able, letting everyone in a ten mile radius know that every part of you belongs to him. 

Your thighs are trembling on each side of Loki’s head, your heartbeat a pounding drum in your chest. You’re panting as you come down off your high, basking happily in the golden afterglow of your orgasm…

But then you realise that Loki’s tongue is still buried in your sensitive cunt.

“Mpmh, Loki…too much,” you whimper, trying to lift off his face. 

Loki’s hands only curl tighter around your hips, refusing to grant even a seconds reprieve. You squirm on top of him, because the sensitivity really is too much, but a soft warmth in your wrists acts as a momentary distraction. 

Glancing up, you see the deep green ribbons that are now tying your wrists to the headboard, effectively immobilising you and leaving no option but to remain where you are. 

You feel Loki smirk between your thighs and the mischief that’s dancing in his eyes only confirms how absolutely fucked you are. “Please…no more…,” you plead weakly, but his sinful tongue remains deep in your cunt. 

Within seconds, the beginnings of another orgasm are fizzling in your core and, through the heavy haze that’s settled over your shoulders, you vaguely remember Loki’s delicious promise from earlier in the evening, only now you can see it for what it was: a threat. 

“I won’t stop, darling. You have my word.”

[simplyholl]

Happily Never After Pt. 1

Summary: A marriage proposal from Prince Loki is every princess's dream come true, except for yours.

Pairing: Asgard Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Loss of Virginity.

W/C: 3.4K

A/N: This will be two parts!

See My Masterlist Here

"Married to Prince Loki?!" You shriek. It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. "Stop being dramatic, dear. You two are very close. Since Prince Thor is already promised, this is the best match we could secure. Your father and I thought you would be happy considering he is your friend, and not a stranger."

"We used to be close! That was ages ago! I loathe him, mother. This is unfair. I would rather marry a stranger." You protest, wiping your sweaty palms on your long gown as you pace the room. "Why do you hate him? We just visited them last week." She tries to reason with you.

"You said yourself he was your best friend. Do you not recall the tears you shed when your father forbid you from spending time with him unchaperoned?" She pours herself more tea, waiting for your reply. "Yes, well he was my best friend. He's a different person now. I barely know him." You look out of your window, the palace in clear view of your own estate.

Your father was king of a neighboring realm, when the ogres attacked, forcing your family to seek safety in Asgard. You were welcomed with open arms. Frigga and your mother became fast friends. Odin relied on your father's knowledge of the other realms' customs, so he became valuable to him. Frigga invited your mother for tea every day. She insisted your mother bring you along since she had two boys close to your age you could play with.

Thor was older, more focused on playing rough with the other boys. He never paid attention to you. Loki was only a year older than you. You often found him reading under a tree instead of playing. He didn't notice you at first until you insisted the older boys let you play. Volstagg accidentally knocked you to the ground.

When Loki heard you crying, he stood up for you even though Volstagg towered over all of you. He was an unusually large child. Loki brought you to his favorite hiding place. Deep in the woods behind the palace there was a treehouse. He explained that he often came there for solace. It was built for Odin thousands of years ago when he was a child.

Thor didn't like to play there because it was too far from the palace. He thought he would get in trouble. One evening, Loki lost track of time and fell asleep in the treehouse. When he was finally found, Frigga had the place cleaned up, so it wouldn't be dangerous. Ever since that day, you and Loki were inseparable. You used the treehouse as a secret lair for you two to spend time alone.

The other children didn't play with you. They only played with Loki because they were scared of Odin. You understood each other completely. You would make up stories and put on one person plays to share your creativity. You grew up together. It went from playing as children, to hiding out in the tree house after mandatory appearances at balls. You despised when your father wanted you to meet other royals. He would force you to dance with their sons. After two dances, you and Loki would slip away to your private place.

You would laugh about the cheesy things they said to impress you. You would never forget the first time your heart skipped a beat. You were laughing about the visiting prince who told you your gown was lovely. It was the most hideous shade of lime green the seamstress could find. You had requested it that way, so you could hide your beauty. You wiped tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes as you told Loki your reasoning for the unpleasing color.

"You should have known you couldn't hide beauty like yours even in that atrocious gown." His sentiment made you blush, your heart stopped beating as he held your gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds too long. You were sure he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes in anticipation, feeling his face draw closer to yours. Then you were interrupted by Thor bellowing down below. Your father was looking for you.

You wouldn't be allowed out of his sight if he caught you out there. When you got home, you wrote everything down in your diary. How Loki had made you feel beautiful for the first time in your life, how you wished Thor and your father would have waited moments longer. The next day your father called you into his study, your diary in hand. Oh, how you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"I forbid you to see him ever again." Your father's stern words instantly made you cry. Loki was everything to you. You couldn't lose him. You told him it was just a silly crush. That what you had written was just a fantasy you made up. He finally believed your lies, but now you couldn't be with him unless you were chaperoned.

Hundreds of years went by, you were as close as ever. You still found your way around the chaperones. You would sneak out at night meeting at the treehouse. You would stay up half the night together laughing as you did when you were children. He would have you back in your bed before sunrise. You always thought it was unfair that you had to be chaperoned, but Loki could do as he pleased.

Then came your first heartbreak. A visiting prince had met you at one of Frigga's balls. He immediately asked your father to court you. You were devastated. You didn't want to be courted. You were happy with your life. But your father couldn't wait to marry you off. But the more time you spent with the prince, the more you liked him. He had dark hair and blue eyes, sometimes you pretended he was Loki.

But he wasn't and there was your whole problem. No one would compare to Loki. But if you had to marry someone, at least the prince was nice. The prince would often find you with Loki going on strolls through the gardens, eating, and reading in silence. One evening, he visited your estate. He said he wanted to end this courtship. You couldn't think of anything you did wrong. He explained that he was certain your affection lied elsewhere, and he wanted to be the only man in his future bride's life. You didn't understand what he had meant, but you thanked him. You were free once again.

Then the latest scandal sheet was delivered by your maid. It mentioned how you and the prince were getting close. You rolled your eyes, thankful that was over. But when you reached the last paragraph, your whole world shattered. Prince Loki had been seen at the brothel three times this week. Not only that, but he had been caught with an unnamed maid in his mother's garden.

It wasn't uncommon for royalty to fuck around like whores, but this truly wounded you. You cried for a week after it came out. Your mother thought you were upset over the prince ending your courtship, so she explained there would be other princes. You didn't visit Loki for three months after the scandal sheet came out.

Another one hundred years passed, and you had grown used to Loki's womanizing. You were at the market, Loki carrying your basket filled with trinkets, winking at the unsuspecting maidens. He made note of the ones he wanted to bed later. You rolled your eyes, as you handed your coins to the shopkeeper, peeling the orange you just purchased.

"Really Loki, can you go one minute without finding four new lovers?" You joked. "Jealous?" He smirked. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." "The only reason you are not overcome with jealousy is because you do not know what I am capable of carnally." The bite of orange you had just taken lodged down your throat causing you to choke. Loki smiled, pleased with himself.

"Of course, I wouldn't know that, or care to find out. You shouldn't speak of such things so loudly. What if someone heard you?" You looked around, your maid, Greta had her eyes on the ground pretending she wasn't listening. Loki walked over to her, dropping a few coins into her hand, and whispering to her. You watch as she goes to the next vender looking at the silks.

Loki grabs your arm, leading you behind a tent. "Aren't you curious? Your parents keep you in the dark, only for the bumbling fool you end up marrying to spill his seed in a matter of minutes." You would be like the other princesses, not knowing what to expect on your wedding night, if it wasn't for Loki. He had told you all about the act some hundred years ago, so you would know what to expect. You were thankful for that, at least.

But now, when he was looking at you like that, and speaking of such things, you wished you didn't know. "You won't experience pleasure with them. They just want to produce an heir, and once that's taken care of, he will get a mistress. I don't want that for you. I hope that you find a love match, but that is highly unlikely considering your father allows anyone with a title to court you."

You consider Loki's words as he leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Let me show you what you are missing. I'll make it good for you. You deserve to experience mind blowing sex at least once in your life." He was the devil himself; you were sure of it. He was so tempting. You knew he was experienced, and women threw themselves all over him everywhere you went. He had to be good at it.

"I - I'm not sure. I would be ruined if anyone found out. My father would kill you.” You whisper, just in case someone was listening. "That's not a problem, I would just marry you before your reputation took a hit." He smiles as if what he said wasn't crazy. "Loki, I couldn't ask you to do that. To be honest, I am frightened. Not of you, but of the act itself. It doesn't sound like it would be pleasurable. Oh, but it must be if every eligible maiden in the kingdom lets you have your way with them."

You continue your ranting until Loki grabs your hand. "I would be gentle with you. We could start slowly. We would only do what you are comfortable with." You agreed to meet him at the treehouse that night. When you're back in your chambers you call Greta in to question her.

"Greta, have you had sex before?" She gasps, looking everywhere but at you. "My lady, that is not appropriate." You sit on your bed, gesturing for her to sit beside you. "Oh, spare me, we have known each other since we were girls. So out with it." You fold your arms across your chest waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, there was one man." She answers, her cheeks turning red. "Greta! Who was it?" She smiles, "Bart, the baker's son. We had a lovely couple of months together, but then he married the butcher's daughter. You see, men are fickle creatures. They use you until they find someone else. So be warned, my lady, keep your heart out of it. Men can have sex without emotions, and us women, well we often times end up heartbroken."

Greta's words repeated in your head all afternoon. You had known Loki for centuries, so you didn't think he would hurt you. But you were tempted to turn around, go back to your chambers and pretend like none of this ever happened. Luckily, he was in the treehouse waiting for you, so you couldn't leave now.

"It has been brought to my attention that men will do this with anyone, so I know it will mean nothing to you. And apparently, it will mean everything to me. I just don't want to regret this." You confide in Loki. "My darling girl, this will mean everything to me too. You are far too precious to me for it to mean nothing. We don't have to do anything if that is what you wish."

"I think you are right. I deserve to feel pleasure, and I trust you. I'm just nervous." Loki cups your face in his hands, bringing himself closer to you. It was so similar to that night when you were teenagers, your stomach erupts in butterflies. You never imagined the cute, gangly boy you knew so long ago would grow into the devilishly handsome man before you.

He kisses you, and it is exactly how you had always imagined. It was as if no time had passed between the moment when he almost kissed you centuries ago and now. You felt exactly the same. When he finally breaks the kiss, you look at him with wide eyes. If just his kiss could make you feel like this, you were in trouble.

Loki sat you down on the old mat you used to read on as children. It had fresh linen on it. Loki must have put it on before your arrival. He pressed kisses to your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your exposed skin. He had you sit up so he could undo your dress, nimble fingers working quickly on your corset until all your clothing was sat aside. You were bare for the first time in front of a man, but you were not ashamed. You should have attempted to cover yourself, but when Loki looked at you like you were a priceless painting, you felt no need to.

Loki took his time kissing every part of you. He toyed with your nipples, and you felt yourself growing wet. When he lowered his head to take one between his lips, you finally understood why all those maidens would jump at his beck and call. He kissed his way down your stomach, nipping your upper thigh. He spread your legs apart, pleased with your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"May I?" He asks, pink tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. You aren't sure what he is asking, but he knows what he is doing, so you give your consent. His tongue envelops you, sliding from your slit to your most sensitive part. "Loki!" You shout, as he continues exploring you. His tongue flicks your clit as your hands weave through his messy locks.

You never imagined it would be like this. And you suppose if it wasn't for Loki, you would never know. He slips a long finger inside you as he continues licking you, He stretches you, placing another finger inside. You jolt at the intrusion, his fingers curling to caress your walls. You feel like you are about to explode.

"Loki, I feel so wonderful." You tell him. His lips suction around your clit, tugging while his fingers work their magic. Stars explode behind your eyes as your first orgasm rips through you. Loki waits until you finish writhing on his face before coming up for air. He wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

You think that has to be the most attractive thing you have ever seen. But you are proven wrong when Loki undresses. He has filled out since the last time you saw him shirtless, when you were swimming as teenagers. He drops his trousers, hard cock springing free. You gasp when you see the size of him. You were beyond thankful he told you about the differences between men and women so long ago. What a surprise this would be if he hadn't.

"You still have time to change your mind, love. Just say the word and I will stop." He stalks toward you, lowering himself to the mat. "Please do not stop." You say breathlessly. Loki chuckles, settling between your thighs. "This will hurt, but only for a moment. Tell me when you are ready for me to move."

Loki sinks into you, pressure and pain causing you to cry out. "I'm so sorry. I can't help it. It will feel better soon, I promise." You grit your teeth as Loki bottoms out. He stills inside you, waiting for you to give him permission to move. You take a minute, adjusting to his size, before you tell him you are alright.

Loki slowly removes himself before filling you completely again. After a few thrusts, it starts to feel good. "Faster, Loki, please." You beg, clawing at his back as he ravishes you. His hand comes down between your joined bodies, skilled fingers swirling against your clit. The feeling you had earlier comes back full force, another orgasm sending you soaring. Loki pulls out, finishing on the fresh linen on the mat. You lay there, breathing heavily, looking at Loki. He truly is beautiful. "Shall we go again?" He asks, his signature smirk returning.

Loki laid with you three more times before the sun rose. He walked you back to your estate, making sure you made it inside safely before walking back to the palace. The next day, you were excited to see Loki. You secretly hoped you would spend the day in the treehouse.

"Mary was looking for you." Fandral tells Loki, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, you can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." They laugh in unison, walking away as you round the corner. "Has someone finally caught your eye?" Fandral smiles. "Actually, I plan on asking the princess to marry me." Loki shocks Fandral who places a hand over his heart.

"Did you hear that, Greta?" You ask your maid, unwanted tears filling your eyes. "Yes, my lady." She answers. "Repeat what you heard please."

"Prince Loki said "You can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." She looks at you with pity. "That's what I heard too. Oh, Greta." You collapse into her arms, sobbing. "Let's go home, my lady. We mustn't let the prince see that he has hurt you."

From that moment on, things were very different between you and Loki. He demanded to know why you avoided him now and why you never had a kind word for him. You never answered because he knew what he had done. He just didn't know you heard him talking about you. That was five months ago. Now, Odin was ordering him to marry and they had chosen you of all people.

If this happened before you would be ecstatic. Now, it makes you sick thinking about being alone with him. You had no choice. Your father had been trying to marry you off for centuries, and you always got out of your courtships somehow. You suspected Loki had a hand in it. But now that he wanted to marry you, there was no getting out of it.

You were expected at the palace by noon tomorrow. You paced the floor so many times, your footprints were probably embedded into the floor. Then you had the perfect idea. You would run away.

The next day everyone awaited your arrival. Your mother and father sat with Frigga and Odin having tea while they waited. Thor patted Loki on the back. "Finally, brother. Everyone saw this coming. I am very happy for you." Loki brought his cup to his lips, when a timid knock on the door interrupted them. He jumps up, rushing to let you inside. Instead of you, he is greeted by Greta. "Forgive the intrusion, your highness. It's the princess she ran away." Greta hands Loki the letter you left.

She sniffles, worried about you. While he reads the note, your father and Odin start planning on sending knights to find you. Frigga comforts your mother. "What does it say?" Thor asks, peeking over Loki's shoulder.

Greta, I cannot marry that pompous ass. I would rather live amongst the pigs. Do not bother looking for me, because you will never find me. Tell mother and father I love them dearly. Thank you Greta, for everything. I wish I could have taken you with me. All my love.

"No need to create a search team, father. I will find her myself." Loki states, leaving the room.

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[cherry-pop-elf]

Imma just leave this here for yall….

Just…..gonna leave this here…..

[withmyloveasyourgarden]

ALL I EVER DO IS BURN UP FOR YOU

LOKI LAUFEYSON X F!READER

A mishap on a mission, rivals that don't hate each other as much as they pretend to, and a well meaning visit to the god of mischief's door that brings about something you never expected. [18+. Sex pollen/aphrodisiac fic. 6.2K. Re-uploaded from my old blog.]

It starts with an argument. 

With you and him hissing insults and bickering like children over who's more suited for such a high stakes mission. With your hands itching to bury deep into ink spilled curls, if only to yank his face back from where it's obnoxiously tilted close to yours and watch those mocking, glacial eyes widen in shock. 

You had put the work in, assembled all the information and hunted relentlessly for the location of the weapons lab only for him to sweep in at the last moment and use mortality against you. It's an excuse that strikes a dangerous match in your blood, heats your skin to an unhealthy temperature whilst your eyes narrow to vicious slits.

"You mortals are frail and weak, too easily breakable. I'm obviously a much better choice, what could their feeble minds possibly create that will harm a god." 

It makes you nearly scream that the others vote in his favour. Rage, ugly and knotted, sticking in your chest at the insinuation you should be seen as fragile when you've fought for years among advanced tech suits, super soldiers, master assassins and an indefinitely more likeable god.

You're not proud of the way it burns at you, that it plucks at some pitiful insecure string you've tried to bury by pushing yourself harder, always harder. 

He's made you feel like you're not good enough to be here despite all you've done and it gathers petty venom on your tongue faster than you can blink. 

"Don't come crying to me when you fuck up, I'll be here waiting to laugh in your face when the shit they're packing knocks you of your pedestal."

The words are sharp and scathing, spat over your shoulder before you're storming out and leaving everyone to stare after you. 

You miss the arrogant smirk falter on his lips the moment you're gone. 

** 

Guilt comes to you swiftly. 

You didn't really mean what you said, you hope he succeeds, people's lives count on it and deep down you even hope that he's right and in no real danger. 

It's not like you to lose your temper and be so petulant. It really isn't. 

It's just Loki. 

He's rubbed you the wrong way from the moment you met. His arrogance, his patronising drawl and insatiable need to get under your skin, bringing something immature and half feral out of you without fail. 

Before him you didn't know what it was like to hate someone, to have someone manipulate every nerve you have with lithe fingers until there's flames in your blood and violence in your eyes. 

It irritates you more that he's so fucking pretty, that his body looks like it's been carved from marble in an artist's quest for divine perfection, and that you'd been attracted to him almost immediately until he'd opened that poisoned mouth of his. 

And unfortunately there's still moments where it snags at you like hooks in your skin, where it feels like you could give in to the temptation to claw and sink your teeth into him as he pounds you so fucking hard you see galaxies. 

You feel it when he's pressed, hard and unforgiving, against the soft give of your body. When you've managed to incense him to the point he's prowled towards you, anger cracking in his eyes like chipped shards of ice, until your back has hit a solid surface for him to crowd you up against. 

It's then that the energy between you snaps raw - hits it's most volatile like it's gathering itself to an explosive peak. You both linger in it, let the moment seep thick in the heat until it edges along the line of pain. 

But then someone always eventually draws away and you wonder if there's a dark pit, a chasm of unknown want, in his stomach like there is in yours whenever you do.  

** 

When Natasha appears at your door the first thing you think is that she's come to talk about before. You know she sees more than most people and she's always sneaking subtle questions into your conversations about the God of mischief. 

The second thing you think is that the universe must fucking hate you and your previous guilt had obviously not been enough to make up for your behaviour. 

"You're needed in the lab, they need what you know on the bio weapons made in that place - Loki's been hit with something." 

"Hit with what?" 

"He said it was some kind of dart." 

"Did he say what the liquid looked like? Was it blue or purple?" 

"Blue I think, why?" 

Shit.

**

"Good news, he's not going to die a horrific, agonising death from his systems shutting down one by one." 

"And the bad news?" Thor grimaces, his brow heavy with concern and thick arms folded over his chest as he peers at you.

"He could possibly die of… something else." You wince, feeling the awkwardness of embarrassment flooding your tongue. "The thing he's been injected with is an aphrodisiac, a really fucking strong one, they basically manipulated it to cause as much pain and discomfort as they could to make victims more pliant to what they wanted." 

Thor stares at you for a long moment, face blank whilst you watch him working over the information you've given him, then suddenly he blinks, once, twice. 

"You're saying Loki needs to fuck someone or he'll die?" 

"Possibly, I'm not– I'm not one hundred percent sure, okay." You sigh. "That's what happened when someone human was injected, your brother is a god. The effects could be different– milder maybe." 

"So there's a chance he could be fine?"

"Yeah but I'm not a scientist or a doctor, he should really get… checked...out. Wait– Thor, where the hell is he?" 

You hadn't even had a chance until now to notice the presence of a huffy, irate raven haired god was missing from the situation. 

His brother had practically snatched you up as you'd ran towards the lab, his face panicked as he'd word vomited a thousand and one questions about the drug, its effects and the danger it posed to Loki. 

But as you peer around the suddenly quiet god of thunder now, there is definitely a rather worrying absence - the lab empty besides the doctor. 

"Oh, he's in his room." Thor confesses awkwardly, one of his large hands scratching at the the back of his neck whilst he offers you a sheepish smile. "I tried to bring him here but he was somewhat violently against it, he threatened to stab me again." 

You snort. 

Of course he did, the overgrown fucking child. 

Trust Loki to be injected with a lethal substance and rather than be monitored for potential risks to his health he'd prefer to pout in his room. 

"Thor, someone needs to go there and bring him down - this is serious." 

He grins then, charming and radiant, and god help you because you know it's coming, both of you fully aware of the soft spot you have for your blonde Asgardian friend and the fact you can't say no when he asks you for something so politely. 

"I think my presence will do nothing more than irritate him further." He says, soft ocean blue eyes pleading at you. "Maybe you can go and try and lure him out? He's always more easily persuaded when it comes to you." 

Highly fucking doubt it, you want to scoff at him. If anything the mere sight of you is enough to set Loki off on a tangent. 

But he's staring at you all hopeful and sweet and there's nothing you can do but curse these two gods that have clearly been sent to be twin pains in your life. 

"Fine." You grit instead. 

**

You're not sure how long you pace outside the door before he calls to you. 

Long enough that he berates you for trying to wear a hole through the floor, his voice dripping in amusement and a tinge of something rough that your mind doesn't register until it's too late. 

He's the epitome of composure when you slip inside his room, causing you to frown as you narrow your eyes and scan the length of his body. 

He's still in full leathers, his legs stretched across his bed and ankles locked whilst he leans back regally against the headboard. 

There's something you can't put your finger on though, something not right about how he looks, not even a hair out of place or a scratch on his leathers to say he'd just returned from a mission. 

It's almost too perfect. 

"Come to laugh in my face, have you darling?" He drawls, smirking when your eyes snap to his face. "It's a shame then I must tell you I'm perfectly fine." 

"They told me you'd been injected with something." You say quietly, gaze still searching for something out of place whilst you edge closer. 

"Ah and you thought you'd come and witness my suffering did you? Thought you'd see a god brought to his knees by some mortal drug? Apologies for the disappointment." 

You shake your head and stare at him in disbelief. "Loki no." You argue softly. "I came to bring you to the lab, the drug you've been injected with could seriously harm you, you need to be tested and kept under observation." 

He scoffs, a petulant thing as he rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. "I take it my brother sent you in hopes a pretty face would sway me. I will tell you like I told him, I am fine, I have no need of your doctors." 

His voice tries for nonchalance, arrogance even, but there's an underlying coldness you detect that seems unwarranted and leaves you feeling frustrated. 

"Why are you being so unreasonably stubborn." You grit, your hands curling to fists on top of your hips whilst you stride towards the bed and glower down at him. "We're only trying to help you, how about you try being grateful."

"Why are you being so irritatingly stupid." He spits back. Long legs swing gracefully off the bed and land either side of yours, the blue of his eyes pulsing dark as his lips pull back and bare teeth. "I do not need your help, I do not need some silly little midgardian doctors poking and prodding at me whilst I'm expected to just lie there vulnerable." 

Oh. 

Oh fuck, you have been stupid. 

Shortly after the arrival of his brother, Thor had filled you all in on some Loki's history. Told you quietly, guiltily, that whilst he wasn't completely innocent of the deeds he'd committed, they hadn't been entirely his doing either. 

It had been enough to make you shudder, for sympathy to bloom in your heart despite everything, at the thought of the kind of torture that would have to be inflicted upon a god to make him crumble to another's will. 

Of course he would be wary of someone wanting to draw bloods and hook him to machines and do any other tests they had in mind. Of course it would bring back terrible memories for him. You feel wretched for not understanding sooner, your eyes softening and the frustration bleeding from your body quicker than it had arrived. 

"No one is going to hurt you Loki." You murmur gently, letting his gaze narrow to suspicious slits as he searches your words and face for the barest hint of a lie. "We just want to make sure you're okay, that's all, I promise." 

His eyes widen for a moment, expression faltering to something raw and unguarded whilst he stares up at you and your fingers twitch with urge to run themselves along his jaw, over his cheek and through the soft looking curls of his hair in some surprising need to offer comfort. 

But then he shutters. His expression turns mischievous and haughty and you can practically sense the sarcastic quip of his tongue before he's even opening his mouth. 

"Worried about me, are you darling?" He arches a dark brow, lips quirking into a smug grin. "I must confess I like seeing you all bothered about me like this." 

You go to tell him to fuck off, go to spin on your heel and march down to the lab and declare that he's absolutely fine, just peachy, his usual rage inducing self. 

But then your eyes flick up on a whim and see the sweat beading along his hairline, dampening the finer hairs and slicking them to his skin. 

That isn't right.

You've seen this man fight, witnessed him slice through countless enemies without so much as a stilted huff of breath let alone physically breaking a sweat. It's something he practically prides himself on, ridiculing you for looking like a dishevelled mess whenever you emerge from battle after him. 

The next move you make is on reflex, a common habit that you resort to without thought. 

You lift the palm of your hand to his forehead to check his temperature, your skin already grazing his before you register his panicked ‘stop–don't!’ and your mind is only capable of offering one thought before the world is suddenly swept out from beneath your feet. 

The typically cold skinned god is blisteringly hot.

Loki snarls the second your hand makes full contact and there's a sudden pulse of energy that ripples through the air, stealing your breath and tingling along your skin. You don't realise what it is until he's grabbed you and caged you beneath him. 

Magic. More specifically, an illusion. 

He's definitely not fine. 

He's panting and shaking, his arms trembling whilst he hovers over you, face shiny with sweat and cheeks flushed fever pink. When he peers down at you, you inhale sharply, the blue of his eyes has all but gone - swallowed whole by the hungry expanse of his pupils.

"Loki." You whisper and a violent shudder racks his already taut body, the movement dragging your eyes lower before they snap back to his face as you let out a startled squeak. 

His illusion had hid more than you'd been able to realise before he'd tossed you on the bed and now the image of him half naked, in nothing but unlaced leather pants that are doing a poor job of concealing the large outline of his cock, is burned into your brain - even as you close your eyes and take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart. 

Your squeak seems to snap him out of the lustful haze he's in however, a shocked slash of clarity in his eyes when yours flicker back open and pain streaking across his face like it hurts him to drag himself from your body when he pushes away and rocks back on his heels. 

"I'm sorry– fuck– I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." He gasps and he looks so genuinely distraught that you almost reach for him again, only snatching your hand back when his eyes dart to it's approach and he flinches. 

"It's alright Loki, I'm okay." You soothe, concerned. "I want to help you if you'll let me, just tell me how." 

He laughs then, something croaked and hollow, and removes the heels of his palms from his eyes to stare you down in a way that is mildly flustering. 

"You shouldn't ask me that." He husks. "The things I want - if you knew - you wouldn't ask me that." 

Well fuck. You hadn't meant it like that, you'd been thinking along the lines of taking him for medical help or running to get his brother.

But now-  

There's something about the way he says it, the way he looks saying it, the heat that slips back into his eyes as he mentions wanting, that makes you very much need to know. 

It makes your stomach twist in an intense way, a wicked pang of heat spearing through your belly, the beginnings of a fierce craving, and the words are out of your mouth before you can shove your hand against your lips to stop them. 

"Tell me what you want, I’ll do it." 

He glares at you then, twin shocks of piercing blue glowing from beneath the sweat-damp of his curling hair, nostrils flaring as if you're truly testing the limits of his patience. His head has dipped low, long fingers twisting themselves in the strewn bed sheets in an effort to ground himself as another cruel tremor sweeps through him.  

"What I want." He seethes after it recedes, tossing his head back to pin you with a furious look. "I will not take from you, not like this." 

"Why not?" You push yourself up, confused, and he hastily shifts back, keeping a safe distance between you whilst anger and frustration crawls across his face.

"Because when I take you I want it to be because you want it." He snarls. "Not because of some warped sense of duty or self sacrifice that you and the rest of your idiotic team consider heroic." 

It's endearing, if not more than a little insulting. 

You're heart beats a little faster at the fact he's thought about fucking you, fluttering wildly behind your ribs because he seems to want you just as much as you want him. 

But the insinuation you'd only be with him because it's your job to save people brings a type of rage thrumming through your blood that only Loki has ever been capable of summoning. 

"You think I'd fuck you just because it might save your life? That I'd offer myself to you so intimately just so I could get for a fucking pat on the back for helping you?" You spit, offended. "I thought gods were supposed to be smart, or is it just you that is this extraordinarily stupid." 

The situation feels familiar now, the two of you forgetting everything to return to spewing insults and barbs at each other because neither of you know how to deal with the sticky truth, the undeniable hope that the other one might feel the same. 

And for a moment it works. 

It distracts Loki from his pain, from his reluctance to be close to you, touching you, and in one swift move, he lunges. Knocks you back against the mattress and buries you beneath the weight of his powerful body.

"Careful with that mouth, darling." He taunts, dragging his nose across the curve of your cheek before savage eyes lock on yours. "Or I might be tempted to find something other than your poisonous words to fill it. 

You don't rise to his baiting like you typically would, don't hiss and claw at him like a scorned cat because he's too close and his touch is an wholly unwanted offence on your skin.

Instead you do something infinitely worse.

You shock him. 

You say his name, soft as silk, legs parting to make room for him to sink against you and his eyes blow wide - stunned like he can't quite believe you're real and inviting him to cover you entirely, to wrap himself around you like ivy, without an ounce of disgust. 

"That's what I want."

**

He groans ragged like you've wounded him, like you've shoved your hand through his chest and yanked at something vital. 

His hips lurch up subconsciously against yours and oh, it's enough to make your mouth run dry. The quick glimpse of him you'd had is nothing compared to the feel of him pushing against you. 

It makes the tension bloat, electricity crackling upon your skin and you don't know how he isn't half mad with the drug when you feel like you could combust just from this alone. 

He makes a rough, desperate sound in the back of his throat when you wrap your legs around him, eyes burning pitch black and starved as he trails his nose along the side of your face and growls.

"Darling–perfect little thing– tell me to stop. I can't– tell me this isn't what you really want." 

You remove your hands from their bone knuckled grip on his arms, cradling the sharp lines of his jaw and pulling him down to where his lips just ghost over your own.

"I want you, Loki." You murmur. "Let me make it better, let me give you what you need." 

He snaps then, lunges forward and claims your mouth in a punishing kiss, drinking you in so deep that you can barely breathe but you'll gladly suffocate before you even think of asking him to ease up. 

You've never been kissed like this before, with such brutal demand and unyielding need that you could split apart at the seams from the raw heat of it all. 

You tangle your hands something fierce into the silken depths of his hair, give a sharp tug when he scores the pillow of your lip with his teeth before drawing the tender flesh into his mouth like he wants nothing more than to mark you everywhere and with every part of him. 

The pull of his hair draws an inhuman snarl from his chest and his hands turn to steel upon your thighs, fingers sinking in deep and wrenching your legs apart so his hips can slam against your cunt. 

"Loki." You gasp, his name turning to a choked moan on your tongue as he licks and bites at your throat, teeth bared against the flushed skin in a terribly smug grin that you cannot bring yourself to huff about.

"That's it pet - say my name - let me hear how good I make you feel." He purrs. 

You push at him then, push for control and to take advantage of his distraction so you can flip him on his back and fuck, he looks almost criminally good beneath you. Eyes startled, his lips parted in shock before they spread into a sharp, feral grin. 

It's impossible to resist falling back into him, sweeping your tongue into his mouth when he catches you against his chest and swallowing the moans that pour from his lips to yours whilst you circle your hips relentlessly over the thick of him. 

He likes constantly being touched, you've realised, craves it, yields to it, a soft note of disappointment always slipping through his gritted teeth when you remove any part of yourself. 

So you touch him everywhere.

Your hips remain fused to his and your hands never cease roaming, scratching and tracing every ridge and dip of his body whilst you kiss, nip and lick at him until he's a whimpering mess beneath you. 

You slip down the length of his body when it seems like he'll fracture if you take your time with him any longer, gentle hands peeling the leather of his trousers back and down, releasing his cock and wrapping your fingers around the thick weight.

He hisses at the contact, body going rigid and jackknifing from the bed as your thumb grazes up over the leaking head and you begin to stroke him. He croaks out your name like it's a plea to the heavens, his breath falling to ragged pants when you drag your tongue across the slit of his cock before sinking your mouth down onto his length.

"Fuck." He snarls. 

You waste no time teasing him, swallowing him deep into your throat and sucking hard, tongue sliding over the thick vein running underneath as he throbs and his hips stammer against your face. 

There's words, curses you think, in a language you don't understand falling rapidly from his lips and when your eyes flick up to him his are screwed shut, his head thrown back against the pillows, neck beautifully bared and his fingers wound so tight in the bedsheets it's only a matter of time before you hear them shred. 

His eyes snap open to stare at you when you hum in approval around him, his lips parting and a hand shooting out to tangle in your hair. He looks wrecked and it does something indescribable to your chest, your pride, when he chokes. 

"Please." 

You hum around him again and he loses his composure entirely, fisting your hair tight and rocking his hips hard and fast into the welcoming heat of your mouth. You gag slightly at the assault on your throat, thighs clenching as he hisses through his teeth at the feel of it.

You were dripping just watching him like this, every nerve alight and desperate for his touch, thighs shifting again for some kind of friction and this time, Loki notices. 

"You like this don't you, pet?" He grunts. "Fuck, I can smell you - needy little thing - let me help." 

From the corner of your eye you catch a faint glow of green and then you jolt. Lashes fluttering as you moan, helplessly overwhelmed, around his cock.

There's a pressure, some kind of energy, swirling at your cunt, the feeling of tight circles being rapidly drawn over your swollen clit driving you mad, as if he's actually dipped his own fingers inside your pants and was skillfully touching you to ruin. 

It's so much. His cock driving into your mouth whilst his magic thrums relentlessly against you. Your eyes roll back when he slows this thrusts, matching his pace to that of the phantom fingers plunging inside your walls. 

"That's it, darling." He praises breathlessly when you whine around him, eyes never leaving your face. "Want to feel you cum just like this. Taking both my cock and my seidr so well, fucking filthy little thing." 

His words strike a match that ignites something cataclysmic in your gut and you're done for. Your orgasm is cresting without hesitance, barreling towards you unapologetically fast until the muscles of your belly clench tight, the intensity making your head spin until your shuddering and moaning around his cock.

It tears a sound you've never heard in your life from Loki, something raw and wounded and so utterly blissed out shoves it's way out of his throat and then his fingers are curling almost painfully tight, yanking you down to the base of his cock as he pulses and spills hot on your tongue. 

You swallow him down the best you can before his hands are clawing at your arms, hauling you up to his chest so he can bring his frenzied mouth to yours whilst he trembles. 

"More." He bites out. 

**

Pleasure makes him burn possessive. 

It makes him roll you over and crush you with him, cage you with his body as his teeth carve marks into your skin and usually talented hands rip clumsily at your pants.  

You choke on a half shriek, half moan as he stuffs you full of his fingers - spears you open and strokes you to madness, his voice a dark, lustful whisper snaking in your ear. 

"So fucking tight, darling girl - bet that sweet little cunt looks so pretty stretched out on my fingers - be a good girl and cum for me again - cum for me and I'll give you my cock." 

God yes, you need it. You'll go fucking insane if you don't.

You think he will break you just like this, that he’ll pull another lightening sharp orgasm from you with his fingers alone, but then he's suddenly drawing them from your slick warmth. Ignoring your frustrated whine to shred the clothes from your body as if they are nothing more than paper and pressing the broad width of his shoulders between your thighs.

He shoves his face into your cunt before you can fully recover from what the sight of him between your legs does to your ego, drives his tongue through the evidence of your previous release and swallows it down with a gut wrenching moan of satisfaction. 

It is both worshipful and humbling.

He lays himself at your mercy like you are divine only to remind you that he can have you pleading and praying with a mere flick of his tongue. His fingers curling back into you whilst he seals his lips around your throbbing clit and sucks, making you buck wildly into his grinning mouth as you cry out and rake your nails across his scalp in a way that has him shuddering. 

It's rabid and feral the way he eats at you, tongue swirling wet and messy over your clit and his fingers twisting to reach a spot that has your body caving in on itself.

He thrusts knuckle deep until you're wailing. Hiccuping his name as the orgasm builds in your belly with terrifying velocity and then he's nipping at you just a little bit sharply with his teeth, offering that hint of pain that makes the pleasure burn darker, wilder, than it ever has before. 

You arch from the bed with a breathless, wounded sound, unable to scream, unravelling magnificently as he groans and licks you through your orgasm like a man that has known nothing but starvation his entire life. 

And when it has all plateaued there is nothing left but an unrepentant desire to have him entirely when he slithers back up your body, sharp features endearingly pleased and his pretty mouth still shining with your release as he pushes you back into the bed and slides his cock teasingly against your wet cunt. 

You go boneless. Pliant in a way that feels like exquisite submission, that threatens to drive Loki wild.  

Your legs part wide for him, pussy fluttering, still pulsing with aftershocks whilst he catches at your entrance and then he's pushing inside you, a guttural moan bubbling past his throat, and the blunt stretch is so fucking good that you can't breathe. So right that your mind reels with it.

He drops to kiss you as you struggle to keep your sanity, nose nudging softly, adoringly, against your own, and when he pulls back his eyes are striking. Endless pools of crystalised blue blown wide with reverence. With deep seated hunger ready to devour you whole.

You both groan as he presses the final inches inside you. 

Your legs weave around his waist so you can take him deeper and he inhales sharply, yanking himself out of you until only the thick head of his cock remains. You wonder dazedly if maybe he intends it to be a punishment, that maybe his old smugness is more intact than you thought and he intends you to beg for it, but then he's snapping back into you with a rough cant of his hips that almost winds you, splits you open with a deliciousness that has you gasping.

"Oh my god–" You whimper and it's like any semblance of restraint he was still valiantly clinging to evaporates as his entire body trembles. “Loki–you feel so–fuck–”

He buries you beneath him, snares his hand into the locks of your hair and sinks his teeth into your throat whilst he rolls his hips, grinds them in a maddening push and pull, pressing in so fucking close as if he wishes to never leave you at all.

It's like he's lost to the sensation of you, the tight warmth of your cunt and the praise that pours from your lips whilst he chases that frantic need to be sunk deep over and over. 

“I can't–I can't go easy on you–I'm sorry.” There is strain in his voice now, a lovely tortured tone, as if he was losing his head completely. 

You cling to him desperately. Nails scoring crimson lines and small crescen moon marks into the milk pale skin of his shoulders as he fucks you like he wants you to splinter, like he wants you in pieces so he can burrow among your bones and make himself a home inside you. 

He reels back suddenly, bunches his knees beneath your ass and pulls himself upright. You want to protest the loss of him but then he's grabbing your legs, hitching them higher until they're slung over his shoulders and using your thighs as an anchor to ram himself deeper, so he can punch up into the heart of you.

It's almost too much when his fingers slip to where you're joined, when he touches you, quick and unrelenting, until the pleasure is so intense there are tears of bliss gathering at the corners of your eyes. 

It's almost too much when he stares at you like he's completely enamoured and reaches for your face, thumbing away a stray tear before it can slip fully down your cheek with a tenderness that threatens to crack you open. You're whimpering, pleading with him to kiss you, to make you cum, to feel him cum inside you, and the noise he makes in retaliation is low, hungered.

"Pretty little thing, you need to cum? You want me to fill you up?" He rasps - wicked and dripping with a dark shade of longing. He tilts his hips, angles himself so his next thrust plunges into that part of you that makes your cunt spasm and a loud wail tear from your lips. "Fuck - go ahead, let me feel it, let everyone hear you make a mess all over my cock." 

His name claws out of your throat on a broken cry, the sound of it jagged, ruined, as every muscle in your body locks up tight until you're violently trembling, bursting wet around him, and everything becomes a scatter of pure pleasure and dizzying bursts of radiant light. 

It takes only moments before the same sensation hunts him so closely. Your cunt gripping him tighter, milking him, until he's snarling a punched out curse. The rising crescendo of slapping skin suddenly faltering as his deliberate pace becomes a frantic, savage thing. 

"That's it darling - my pretty little goddess - beautiful thing, all mine."  He praises before he chokes, folding himself over you and claiming your lips in a messy kiss. Devouring your mouth as you broke and broke and broke.

He ensures you are shattered entirely and only then does he allow his own devastation. His breath stuttering, voice shredding, body convulsing as he fucks you through it and growls your name, spilling, hot and deep, inside you.

**

It goes on for hours.

Until the desperation has bled from his veins and his skin has cooled to a normal temperature.

It's deep into the night when the two of you finally collapse into the sheets exhausted, the cool press of his body tangled with yours a blissful relief to both your mind and the flushed heat of your own sticky skin. 

Every inch of you is raw - littered in marks from his fingers and teeth, the phantom stretch of him still making you ache.

Loki holds you tight to him, draws you close against the sharp rise and fall of his chest and cradles your head like you're something infinitely precious. 

He doesn't speak though and you have a feeling his mind is struggling to process the sudden leap in the relationship between you, picking it apart and trying to discover what this makes you to him. 

The silence blisters and pricks at you until you can't handle it any longer and you blurt out the first thing that comes to your pleasure-addled brain.

"Well… good to know you're not going to die." 

His chest shakes lightly under your cheek and you realise he's chuckling, a soft, light sound slipping from his lips that you don't think you've ever heard from him. 

"That drug was never going to kill a god." He scoffs, trailing feather light fingertips down your arm. "But I can see how it would be dangerous for mortals, which is precisely why I insisted on taking your place." 

Wait–

What. 

You lurch up and twist in his hold to look at him, his eyes, guarded and hesitant,  as he watches you and attempts to gauge your reaction. 

"You took my place to protect me?" You whisper, inhaling a sharp breath he nods. 

There's something blooming in your chest, something you don't want to look at too closely so soon, something that bloomed also when he called you his. But as soft as his gesture makes you, it also bothers another part of you, the part of you that is an avenger and more than capable of dealing with dangerous situations. 

You tell him as much and he grumbles. 

Something along the lines of. "Do you really expect me to stand by and let something happen to you if I can prevent it? I don't want to see you hurt and mortals are so -" 

He doesn't get to finish before you're planting your hands firm against his cool chest and growling. "If you say fragile or weak, I swear I will ruin this otherwise sweet moment and punch you in that perfect face." 

His eyes narrow, glinting dark and tempting, and his voice drops to a wisp of coiling smoke.

"You can try, darling." 

God, is he really trying to seduce you again. 

"Stop trying to distract me." You swat at him angrily. "Next time just come along and work the mission with me, don't get me taken off. Deal?" 

He watches you for a moment, arches a brow at the way you glare at him before huffing. "I suppose." 

There's barely any time for you to grin smugly at your victory before he's hauling you down and rolling you beneath him, his razor sharp smile gleaming above you as his eyes pitch dark once more. 

"Now, how about we seal our little deal." 

[mountkennedie]

Unleashing Hell

Loki x fem!reader

HEAVILY inspired by this one fluttershy x discord clip

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: You were captured by some of Loki's enemies (why does he have so many) and when he finds out, he comes to save you. angst to fluff

Warnings: Kidnapping and all the entails with it, men being pigs, hints at r4pe (not described), violence (Loki makes the PAY), could be triggering for s/h survivors (I will label where)

A.N. I love 'em protective fafo!!!

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Loki was already uneasy with your lack of attendance at afternoon tea. You rarely missed it, even said it was your favorite part of your day. And even when you had to cancel for whatever reason, you always alerted him beforehand. He sat there and let his cup run cold as he waited half an hour for your appearance. But once he concluded that you were not going to make it, he downed the now chilled cup and went back to his room, unfulfilled.

Then when there was a vacancy at dinner as well, he really was concerned for your well-being. He asked around if anyone had seen you, and all responses came back negative. His anxiety grew with each dissatisfying interaction. Loki was not one to worry about much, but for the much he did care about, it all concerned you.

He went to your room at a speed that would definitely be shocking to any onlooker. However now he did not care. You had not made any acknowledgement of your existence to anyone the entire day, and it was not like you. Even on days when you did not want to be disturbed, you told him in advance. But never complete silence.

He approached your door, his chest slightly heaving from the trek he just completed. He could have just used magic, but he decided to use his time in travel to think of what he was going to tell you. Knock. No response. Knock knock. Still nothing. He sucked in a chest of air and said, loud enough to be heard on the other end of the door, "(Y/n)? Are you alright?" And once more, no response. His brows knitted as he concentrated on hearing anything on the other side of the door. But hat he received only followed his current theme of the day, disappointment.

"(Y/N)?" He asked in a louder tone now. And like before he extended his focus to hear any sign of life on the other side of the door. But there was still nothing. Loki sighed and used some simple magic to unlock your door and entered slowly. His eyes scanned all around, but they did not find there desired target. He felt relief wash over him as he saw a lit candle in your bedroom. He knew you would never leave a lit candle unattended, so you must be near.

How long has this been burning?, Loki asked himself. The wax had well spilled over the holder and was now seeping in a puddle below itself. The relief he had recently acquired was now tested by oncoming suspicion. She would not have left it in this condition, He thought. His eyes looked around further, this time under the guise of skepticism. And he noticed a, now cold, glass of tea. And at your desk, there was something you were writing. The paper would not have usually paid much interest to him, however the way you left off mid word, did.

Loki blew out your candle before it could mess up any more of your table and instead used his green flame to light the room. And that was when he saw it. On your night stand there was a note.

Hello "God of Mischief"

Looking for someone?

Your beloved (Y/N) will be spending some time with my friends and I for some time

I hope you don't mind

But since I know you do

Bring us The Eternal Flame and you can get her back

And remember

Try anything foolish and you can say goodbye to her

The note had a loc of your hair attracted to it. The flame Loki already had flowing, grew into an inferno. The note went up into smoke, but not before he saw the address of the place he was supposed to go. It wasn't to far from the castle at all. The thought that someone in Asgard can have such strong disdain for him that they would do this, sat in the back of his mind. He would think of it later, once you were back in his arms.

He teleported to the doors of Odin's treasure room and got the eternal flame, though he had no actual intent of giving it away. However he needed you back, and Loki would do anything for that to happen. Once out of the room, he made sure he was not seen with the flame, and flew to the place you were being held. He was running on emotions at large, and due to that, did not think of a plan other than gutting everyone involved purely for putting you through this.

He flung the two doors open in one big wave of green. The first person he saw was a man dressed plainly. With a glare that held so much chill it made Jotunheim seem underperforming, he raised one hand to the man. His voice was heavy and daunting like an eldritch horror and he uttered the words, "Where is my bride."

When the man didn't answer fast enough for Loki's liking, in a green flicker, the man was being held by his throat. He was lifted and brought to Loki's face. His voice became low and haunting and he spoke, "where is she." The man looked into Loki's eyes with a fear that would live with for the rest of his days. However with Loki's current mood, he would live with that fear for the rest of this hour.

The man was too focused on getting air in his lungs that he did not respond to the God. And for that, Loki just placed his hand on the man's forehead and saw where you were being held in his memory. Once he got the information he needed, he sprung a blade from the palm that currently rested on the man's forehead, and ended his fear.

His body slumped to the floor and Loki continued on his hunt for you. He took a right and continued down a hallway. The man's blood on his hand was the least on his concern. Another man springs from a corner, armed with a spear. He doesn't pounce on Loki yet, but gets into position to. "Where's the flame, Laufyson." He spat the name like a slur. However what Loki was more focused on was how this man knew of his true lineage. The thought caught him off guard, and it was enough for the man to approach and strike him across the cheek. His blood coated the edge of the spear, and it broke him from his thoughts. "Or will we have to spend more time with that pretty girl you keep locked away." That line was what got Loki's emotions to front his actions again. But the problem with that was, his moves were more sloppy this way.

The man he was fighting was clearly a trained warrior. And with the help of his accomplice, that had suddenly joined in the fight as well, Loki was soon pinned to the ground. In a cocky tone the first man said, "you know, 'prince'. For you to call yourself a benevolent God, and then not want to share your prize... isn't very fair is it? She should not even be with you. And now you will not let her even be around those of better company? Makes me want to keep the flame and her, just to show her a good time." The disgusting captor and his accomplice broke out into a fit of laughter. Many had thought you and Loki's relationship was as controlling as the pigs said. But no one ever understood how free you really were with him.

The obnoxious joy the two pigs were enjoying were soon silenced when Loki rose from the ground. His hands enveloped in a blinding green glow. He said nothing at first, except lifted the men by the neck with one hand, like before. Except for a moment Loki closed his eyes, and sensed every presence in the building. Everyone except you were hunted down by his shadows and brought to where he was standing now.

TW AND VIOLENCE

It was a collection of ten men, all foul in their own ways. They met the same fate as the two men currently hanging. He gagged every man so that you not hear their torture. And with his other hand he summoned twenty daggers. One for each foot of the men. When they punctured, he began to speak and he summoned more knives. "I know that I am not one who was bound for a fruitful love." Ten knives, one for each man. They began at the feet, tracing slowly up the leg. the knives had enough pressure at the hilt to break through clothes and their skin. "And that is my burden to bear," the knives slowed to a stop at the waistline. And returned to the foot on the other leg, then mimicked their work on the other leg.

Loki was glad he gagged them. He didn't want the screams of your captors to haunt you. When the knives reached the waistline, they met both lines in the middle and began scaling up their stomachs. "However," there was a slight growl in his tone. The blade stopped at their necks. "If you, or anyone dare to harm my wife," he brought them close to his face and looked into all of their eyes. "I will always find you, and not even Valhalla could stop me from decimating you over, and over again." The blades sliced through all their throats, and their blood splattered all over Loki.

TW AND VIOLENCE END

He dropped their dripping carcasses and went to where they were holding you. Before walking in, in another wave of green, he cleaned their blood off of himself to make sure he didn't alarm you. When he opened the door, what he saw enraged him but most importantly, broke his heart.

You were tied to a chair and had a large sac over your head. You were trembling, and as his footsteps got closer, he heard your breath quicken with fear. "(Y/n)! (Y/n) it's me, it's alright." He slowly took the sac off so your eyes could adjust. What he saw broke him even more. You were gagged and your eyes were full of tears. He noticed a bit of your hair was shorter than the rest and he wish he could revive those bastards just to do even worse to them.

When you registered it was Loki you made a sound of relief and leaned as close as the ropes allowed, to him. In a second the gag and ropes dropped to the floor and you fell into Loki's arms. You just sobbed incoherently and let him hold you together as you did. Loki wrapped your legs around his waist and lifted you both up. You don't know when he did it, due to your eyes being shut, but he transported you both back to your room.

He held you in a crushing embrace, like you could be taken from him again at any moment. When you caught a bit of your bearings you said in a broken voice, "I don't want to be in here." The scene was still the exact same as when they took you. Then immediately, the pair of you were in Loki's room, still embraced. "Thanks," you replied as some left over tears still stained your face.

"Anything for you, darling." His hand rubbed your back as he softly spoke. There was darkness underlying his words, but you didn't acknowledge it, "And I mean anything." He was there as you showered, but not in the shower, he respected your need for privacy. Especially after today. And he stayed with you for the rest of the evening and even held you as you slept. As a reminder of his undying loyalty and love for you.

How these men knew of him so well he did not understand. And it plagued his mind as you rested. He did not care much for his information being known, only if it meant it could put you in danger. That would always be his first priority.

[grim-reapers-wife]

My first fanfic! So I’m starting out simple and small with who else but Loki 💚🖤

Summary- Loki thinks that y’all are together since the Asgardian tradition is to court before marriage, like being in a relationship, and it is typically not announced. Thor finds out and teaches him the Midgard way of courtship, and that y’all aren’t officially together until he asks you.

Don’t mind any grammatical errors! I’m not a professional by any means. 😅. Enjoy!

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💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

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I walk into the library where Loki and I hang out most days, he’s reading an Asgardian book again for the third time this week. “Are you seriously reading that book again?” I question and sit down in the spot on the couch next to him. “Why yes I am, darling. Are you questioning my reading habits?” He marks the page and sets it down on the other side of him. “Must be really interesting for you to read it so many times.” I smirk in his direction. “Quite. You should read it sometime.” Loki says smirking right back “Oh wait, that’s right; you don’t speak Asgardian. Hmm, what a shame, darling.” He picks up the book again and begins to read. We drift into a comfortable silence while read my own book for a case that Tony has me working.

*buzz buzz*

I pick up my phone “Shoot.” I fire off a couple of messages before Loki looks over. “Everything okay, darling?” He sets his book aside. “Yeah everything’s fine I’m just a little late for a lunch with my friend. I’ll catch you later, mkay?” I grab my things and head out through the library doors.

I arrive at the café 20 minutes late and catch my friend sitting in the corner sipping a coffee. “Sorry I’m late! How are you?” I hug my childhood friend and sit across from him, catching up on everything in his life.

Meanwhile, Loki is still reading his book in the library undisturbed…Until Thor comes barreling in. “Thor, you baboon! Have you no respect for the quiet nature of the library?” He snipes in the other prince’s direction. “Always a pleasure, brother!” Thor walks over to Loki. “I’ll have you know that I come with information with your benefit in mind, brother.” Loki sets his book aside. “Get on with it, I’d like to continue reading.” Thor lazily drapes himself in the chair across from Loki.“I saw y/n chatting with a guy downstairs in the café, I thought y’all were together, brother. Or at least so you’ve told me.” Loki sends a death glare to his brother. “Of course we’re together, what are you on about?” Thor looks at Loki “I’m not sure brother, it looked like a date.” Loki’s brows furrow. “A date? What is that?” Thor sits up straighter. “You know, a date. It’s a tradition here on Midgard, when two people are together romantically they go on outings together.” Loki shakes his head slightly and Thor continues. “You have asked her to officially date you, right brother? On Midgard I believe it is officially called boyfriend and girlfriend. Jane told me about it.” Loki shakes his head. “I- I guess not then. I didn’t know that we were not counting this entire time.” Thor laughs. “Courting? I haven’t heard that word since mother tried to set me up back on Asgard. No, no, that’s not a thing here. To make things official you must ask the lady.” Loki stares down at his hands grasping why his brother has told him.

A couple hours later I finish hanging out with my old friend, and I’m on my way to my room. I turn the key in the lock and push the door open to find Loki sitting on my bed. I jump lightly and gasp. “Loki! Jesus you scared me.” I close the door and walk into my room. “How long have you been here?” He stands up and shakes his head. “That’s not important right now.” He declares, his accent coming out strong. I look at him questioningly. “Are you alright?” He shakes his head. “Were you on- on a date?” He questions and I stare, not expecting that sort of question. “Um,” when I finally regain my senses I answer. “No, I wasn’t on a date, Loki. Is that what’s bothering you?” His shoulders sag with relief and a long breath escapes him. “Thor told me he’d seen you on a date. I didn’t know what that was so he explained. You see, on Asgard; there’s a similar thing called courting. It’s typically not announced and is a short interval of time before marriage. I have believed this whole time that I was courting you but Thor informed me of my ignorance.” I stare in disbelief. He thought we were together? He likes me back? How could he have not known? What does this mean for us now? A million questions fill my head. Loki steps forward and takes my hands. “I did research on this and your Midgardian traditions but forgive me if I do anything wrong. Will you officially court- date, will you officially date me?” I laugh just a little at the sweet gesture and nod my head. “Yes Loki, I thought you’d never ask.” He breaks into a smile wider than I’ve ever seen. “Thank the gods.” He grabs me and spins me around, I laugh like a child. “Loki put me down!” I hit his chest playfully. “He also said something about boyfriends? I don’t fully understand.” I giggle and cover my mouth to stifle the rest of my laughs. “So you’re my boyfriend now, and I’m your girlfriend. Officially as of two seconds ago since you asked me, and I said yes.” He nods his head. “I understand, so no dates with others people?” “Right.” I answer. He nods once more. “I will take you on one of these dates, tonight, yes?” I smile and look up at him. “Sure, that sounds wonderful, Loki.” He walks to my door and stops before he walks away. “I’ll see you then, darling.”

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Thank you SO SO much for reading! If you’ve made it this far I assume you enjoyed. ☺️ If you did I’m so glad and if you didn’t like it feel free to give KIND constructive criticism. I will always accept tips and opinions. Again, this was my first fanfic EVER 🤣 so I’m sure it wasn’t great but lmk! If you have a request I’m 100% open to take it, just be patient with me lol 😆 Byeee!

[holdmytesseract]

So Close To Love

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: On Tony's Christmas party isn't a certain God able to keep his eyes from you, and yet he can't bring himself to make a move - or can he?

Warnings: alcohol, music? idiots in love, not a happy end but I'd say there's hope, feels, slight thirst?

Word Count: 2,4k

a/n: Merry Christmas, y'all! I hope this lil' present I have for you manages to put a smile on your faces! 🤗🎄

This oneshot is kinda based on that song:

Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist

divider by @jiyascepter

"Must I really attend this ridiculous Christmas party of that arrogant imbecile, calling himself a-" "Brother," Thor cut Loki off rebukingly. "Enough. Behave yourself, I beg of you. I know you don't wish to attend, but it will be good for you. You have to show interest or Fury might question your probation - once more," the blond Asgardian chided. "It's for your best and you know it. Now come on, get dressed."

Loki rolled his eyes, but deep down knew that his brother was - unfortunately - right. With a soft, annoyed groan he lifted himself off of the comfortable beanbag in his reading corner and closed the book shut he held in his hands. Thor smiled like a Cheshire cat - proud of having convinced his stubborn sibling.

With the snap of Loki's fingers engulfed him an emerald green haze and replaced the sweatpants and t-shirt with black slacks, shiny black dress shoes and a very formfitting shirt - also black. "There. Are you happy now, brother?"

The god of thunder's smile did not cease; one meaty hand reaching out to clap his brother rather harshly on the shoulder. "Yes, I am. Let us join the party!" Thor already marched towards the main door. "I bet Lady Y/N will be present as well," he added with a small wink and stomped out of Loki's apartment. The raven haired god rolled his eyes once again, "Oaf." but couldn't shake the nervous feeling and anticipation flame up inside him. If you were truly going to be there... His heart skipped a beat at the mere thought. You were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. A goddess. An angel walking the earth. And your sweet, kind and selfless personality... How you conquered his heart without even knowing...

"Brother!" "Oh, for Norns sake, I am coming!"

"Okay, what do you think?" You stepped out of your bathroom; taking a deep breath. You slowly twirled in a circle then; showing off the dress you chose to wear for Tony's Christmas party to Nat and Wanda. Red - fitting the topic.

Both your best friend's jaws dropped. You giggled. "Good or horrible?" "Neither, babes. This is... stunningly sexy, yet cute." Wanda nodded; agreeing with the Russian spy. "Absolutely." You looked down yourself. "Yeah? Really? It's not too much?" "No. Not if you try to attract the attention of a certain man - or should I say god?" You reached over and threw a pillow your friend's way; hitting her square on the stomach. "Shut up, Nat! He isn't interested in me - and we all know that." You walked back inside the bathroom to check a last time on your hair, but actually desperately tried to hide the blush on your face - because Natasha was right.

While you tried to flee, exchanged the Widow a knowing look with the Scarlet Witch; both women suppressing their giggles. They knew. Of course, they knew.

The party was already in full swing, as you stepped through the opened doors of Tony's penthouse apartment. The band in the corner - dressed in fancy golden shimmering suits played some classical Christmas songs, but also normal music. You saw waiters paving their ways through the crowd of Avengers, rich people and several hot shots of the American government, SHIELD and the military. They held glasses of champagne and fancy little snacks on trays. Some people already occupied the dance floor, others were chatting or nursing drink after drink at the festively decorated bar. It smelled like expensive alcohol, rich cologne and remnants of cold smoke. It was awful.

You were an Avenger and had every right to attend this party - and yet you felt so out of place.

"Come on, babes. Let's get a drink and have some fun," Natasha's voice ripped you out of your thoughts; feeling her tug you after her. You didn't even protest and followed your best friends; greeting Steve, Tony, Pepper and Bucky on the way.

Thor and Loki were seated on a creme white leather sofa across the room; close to the huge French door, which led to the roof garden. Both men had a drink in their hands. While the blond god chatted enthusiastically with Dr. Jane Foster and a few other... scientists, Loki found himself utterly bored; having to witness his brother's lousy attempts at flirting. He rolled his eyes subtly, and brought the glass in his hand to his lips in order to take a sip of the alcoholic liquid - and almost choked.

His eyes had travelled across the spacious apartment, and had landed directly on you. The raven haired god hadn't spotted you before, but now that he did, he felt like he could barely breathe. You wore a stunningly beautiful red dress, which highlighted your curves to perfection and suited your whole appearance. Loki couldn't help but to stare; distracted by your looks and the sweet smile upon your lips, which managed to turn his knees into jelly.

"You should ask her to dance, you know." Thor's quietened voice suddenly urged to his ears. He noticed how close his brother had slid over to him on the sofa; his gaze directed on you as well. Loki scoffed and played it cool; downing the rest of his Martini. "Why in Odin's name should I do that, brother? I can tell there already is a line with men wanting to dance with her. See all those rich sycophants eye-fucking her?" He jutted his head at a group of men in tuxedos; standing only a few bar tables away. Thor's eyes followed. "I bet they'd do everything to get her attention and lure her into their 'honey-trap'. She doesn't need another one."

"Why don't you make sure to get her before they can, brother? Are you truly willing to lose the Lady of your interest to such vile men?" The raven haired god stood up from the sofa, "You forget that I am no hero, Thor." and walked away without another word; straight to the bar. The blond god only shook his head in disbelief.

The evening progressed; alcohol flew and caused the party to get wilder. By now, almost everybody had fun on the makeshift dance floor - no matter the song. Loki, though, was still sitting alone at the bar; glad that nobody had approached him. After all, he had just attended the party because it was the 'best for him' and good for his reputation. Which reputation? The god asked himself; almost starting to chuckle. He hated it to be here and yet he hadn't left.

The reason was simple...

He found himself unable to avert his eyes from you. He tried, but failed gloriously. Loki watched you dance with one man after the other - all of them besuited billionaire playboys; each of them trying to flatter and impress you more. As if it was a competition. He could already feel the bile rising in his throat by the mere look at them. This wasn't the proper way to gain the attention of a lady. Typical mortal men... It disgusted him.

Another feeling he also couldn't shake was jealousy... Yes, he was jealous of that unworthy mortal scum touching you in such an intimate way. Dancing was an art. The expression of feelings and status. Obviously not on Midgard...

What Loki didn't see, though, with being blinded by jealousy and frustration, was that you absolutely didn't enjoy yourself. You hated these... machos just as much as Loki, and yet you were too kind to recline their ask for a dance and your attention.

"Save her." A feminine, quite familiar voice urged to his ears through the music. The god frowned and slowly turned on his bar stool to face the 'intruder'. "What are you talking about, Miss Romanoff?" The Widow's gaze drifted over to you, then back to Loki. "Don't act innocent, Laufeyson. You know exactly what I'm talking about," Nat urged him on just like his brother. She gave the god a smile alongside a wink, ordered another drink and vanished in the crowd again.

A groan of distress left the god's lips; his pointer finger dancing over his bottom lip in thought.

Again he let his eyes wander over to you. His gaze lingered and he felt his chest tightened. No, he couldn't. Swallowing hard, he averted his eyes once again and redirected his attention to the bartender. "Another, please." The friendly man behind the counter nodded and replaced his empty glass with a full one.

Once Loki had downed this drink as well, he stood up with a sigh and turned to finally leave - crashing into another body. Out of instinct, his arms reached out to steady the person he just almost ran over. "Apologies, I-" When the god lifted his gaze and found himself staring into your mesmerising Y/E/C eyes, his breath hitched. "Y-Y/N..." Loki desperately tried to keep it together; clearing his throat. "I did not mean to run into you. Again, my apologies." He didn't notice that his palms were still gently gripping your upper arms - but you did; having a hard time to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"N-No! No need to apologise. I-I mean, I should've watched where I'm going as well, so..." You smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear - a nervous habit. "It's fine, really." That was a lie. In fact, nothing was fine. Your heart was running a marathon; the sudden encounter caused your feelings to run wild.

Loki gave you a small smile as well, "Very well." and cleared his throat, as he noticed that he was still holding you; quickly letting go of you.

Your skin tingled where he had touched you, and you couldn't deny that you were already longing for his touch again.

An awkward moment of silence between the two of you passed, but before any of you could say something, the lights in the apartment got suddenly dimmed and the music changed.

I've never seen you looking so lovely as you did tonight I've never seen you shine so bright, mhm-hmm

Some might say it gave off romantic vibes. Major romantic vibes...

From the corner of your eyes you could see couples starting to sway together to the famous soft rock song.

I've never seen so many men ask you if you wanted to dance They're looking for a little romance, given half a chance

Loki swallowed hard and licked his lips; heart threatening to break free from his ribcage. "Dance with me," the god suddenly uttered; mouth working faster than his brain could think. "Please." Your gaze lifted to meet his again - and feared you were going to drown in those beautiful blues. "Yes." It was your heart speaking.

The handsome god gave you another soft smile, before he gently reached for your hand and took a few steps backwards; pulling you gently with him and away from the bar.

And I have never seen that dress you're wearing Or the highlights in your hair that catch your eyes I have been blind

Loki's hand found your waist then; his other hand engulfing your smaller one. You bit your lip and placed your free hand on his black shirt clad shoulder. Together, you started to sway to the music.

The lady in red Is dancing with me, cheek to cheek

It felt so different. Different from any other man you had danced with tonight. It felt right. How gentle, yet firm Loki's touch was. How he guided you over the dance floor. The way his hand held yours. It was overwhelming.

Almost shyly you lifted your head; eyes locking with those endless blues of his. And once more you felt yourself drowning. No words were exchanged. Neither of you had to. You could read it on the god's face; saw it in his eyes.

The dozens of other people faded into a blur around you. It was just you and Loki. Nobody else existed in that very moment.

You could feel yourself closing the distance between you further; your head resting against his firm shoulder. Loki's heart skipped several beats - unbeknownst to you. And he certainly did not reject the invitation. He let the hand on your waist slowly glide to rest on the small of your back; pushing you even closer against his body. You were so close now that you could smell his intoxicating cologne with every breath you took. Leather, charred wood and something citrusy. It caused your head to spin.

You could also feel his definitely unsteady breath against the burning hot skin of your cheek - and you could swear you could still smell the remnants of alcohol. Martini?

Without even noticing had your gaze dropped to his lips; wondering how they would feel against yours. Wondering how he'd taste.

Perhaps Loki was able to read your mind. Or he could feel it to. Whatever it was, it urged him on to lower his head; nose grazing your cheek as his lips hovered over yours. You feared that your heart was going to explode; anticipation and want coursing through your veins.

Loki was about to finally close the remaining distance between the two of you, when the lighting got turned up again; the brightness almost blinding - and the moment between you and the god bursting like a bubble. The both of you could do nothing but blink; now standing an arm length away form each other again.

"I-I'm sorry," Loki muttered and before you could say something, he had vanished in the crowd of people around you. With your mouth slightly agape you stared a hole in the floor where the god had been standing just a few seconds ago; stunned. Your brain was having a hard time to process what just happened. Hence, you didn't even know what exactly happened...

Loki cursed under his breath as he stumbled into his dark, empty apartment in the Avengers tower. He was such a fool. How could he be so stupid to just leave you standing there? He could've had all he ever wanted - and now he was sitting on the floor; back pressed against the frame of his bed, black curls a mess and black shirt halfway undone, with empty hands. And why? All because the oh so brave and arrogant princely womaniser had gotten cold feet. Seducing and charming a woman wasn't a problem. Seducing and charming the woman he loved seemed to be impossible.

Loki ran his hands over his face with a groan. He was an idiotic imbecile.

Tags: @fictive-sl0th @gruftiela @theaudacitytowrite @anukulee @alexakeyloveloki @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @chennqingg @muddyorbsblr @glitchquake @mandywholock1980 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @mochie85 @dryyoursaltyoceantears @chantsdemarins @loz-3 @eleniblue @goblingirlsarah @crimson25 @icytrickster17 @lokidbadguy @hunny-beann @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kimanne723 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokidokieokie @lovingchoices14 @valencia-rou @kikster606 @frzntrx @lokisgoodgirl @huntedmusicgardenn @linaax @sheris532 @km-ffluv @jiyascepter @salvinaa @lcolumbia1988 @blackholeofcreativity @lou12346789 @soulpiercing @loonalockley @liliac-dreamer @brokenpoetliz (Continuing in the comments)

[huffelpuff210]

All my stories so far

Fighter series Alpha Tony x Alpha Steve Roger’s x Alpha Bucky Barnes x omega reader

Ch 1

Ch.2

Ch.3

Ch.4

Ch.5

Ch.6

Ch.7

Ch.8

Ch.9

Ch.10

Ch. 11

Alpha Steve Rogers x Alpha Bucky Barnes x Omega teen reader

Ch. 1

Ch.2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Dark Alpha Steve Rogers x Dark Alpha Bucky Barnes x omega Reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Bucky x shy reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch.5

Dark Stucky x reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Ch. 7

Andy Barber x shy Reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Dark mob Stucky x reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

King loki x shy reader

Ch. 1

Soft Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch.3

Dark professor Steve Rogers x innocent reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch5

Dark biker Bucky Barnes x reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Dark professor Tony Stark x reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Dark Steve Roger’s x reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Dark mob boss Bucky Barnes x reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Dark Bucky Barnes shifter x Shifter reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Loki x shy reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Mob stucky x child reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x depressed teen female reader

Ch. 1

Ch.2

Ch. 3

Dark Stucky x pregnant reader

Ch.1

Bucky Barnes x shifter reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Mafia Bucky Barnes x reader

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Part. 5

Thor x shifter reader

Dark Tony Stark x Reader

Dark Stucky x pregnant reader

Dark husband Bucky Barnes x pregnant reader

Prompts

Loki

My Dove

Bucky Barnes

You are mine now

[amethystarachnid]

hi! i’d like to request a loki x fem!reader

can you base it on “we can’t be friends” by ariana grande. something related to the music video in the sense that reader tries to erase her memory in order to “heal” after Loki turns into the god of stories and she is practically alone now. sorry its not angsty i can’t help myself 😩

hope this is okay! thanks queen

MEMORIES

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst, like a lot of angst

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: You thought Loki was your forever, the man with who you'd spend the resto of your life with, but he becomes the God of Stories you are left with nothing but memories of him, maybe you should get rid of those too.

ᯓ★ Word count: 8k

ᯓ★ TW(s): hinted depression, sleeping a lot to stay in the dreams and not eating because of this so weight loss

ᯓ★ Okay so, I need to tell you all the truth...I haven't watched Loki...But!! I've started it and I'm currently on episode 2, truth is me and tv series don't really go hand in hand so I don't know if I'll actually finish it. But to write this fanfic I tried to get as much information as I could and I hope you like it!

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air is cool, tinged with the earthy scent of rain that had fallen just hours before, leaving the world fresh, like a new beginning. You sit on the balcony of your apartment, your legs tucked under you as you sip your coffee. The city below hums with the soft buzz of life, but up here, it's quiet. Just you and him.

Loki’s presence is a constant now. At first, it was a dangerous thrill — the God of Mischief, the trickster, the god of lies and chaos. But over time, you had come to know the man behind the myths, the one who spent far too many sleepless nights overthinking, doubting, and regretting. The one who, despite his flaws and his ever-conflicted nature, had let you in.

You can feel his gaze on you, even before you turn to face him. He's perched at the edge of the balcony, the golden light from the setting sun casting soft shadows on his face. His dark hair is tousled from the wind, and he’s watching you with that look — the one that makes you feel as though you’re the only thing in the universe that matters.

You smile, the warmth in your chest a stark contrast to the cool evening breeze. “What?”

He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, Loki steps closer, the air shifting around him in subtle, magical currents. He always has this way of bending the world to his whims. But right now, he’s just… himself. Not a god. Not a villain. Just Loki.

“Nothing,” he says, voice low, almost like a secret. “You just look… peaceful.”

You blink, surprised. Peaceful isn’t a word you’d ever associate with yourself, but you can’t help the way it feels with him beside you. It’s like the world is calm — for once, there’s no grand scheme or looming threat. Just him. And you.

“You’re the one who always looks so intense,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Like you’re plotting world domination.”

Loki’s eyes flicker with mischief, but there’s something softer in the way he regards you, something tender. “I don’t plot world domination. Not all the time.” He shrugs, as if the matter is trivial.

You laugh, but there’s a quiet moment between you, an unspoken understanding. You know what he means. Loki has always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. The responsibility of his past, the expectations of his future. And yet, when it’s just the two of you, he lets it slip away.

You let your coffee rest on the railing and, without a word, turn to face him fully. Loki’s smile, small but genuine, tugs at something in your chest. You take a step closer to him, the distance between you shrinking as you reach out, your hand brushing against his.

It’s always like this, these quiet moments — when words are no longer necessary. His hand envelops yours effortlessly, and it’s like the universe settles into place. This is the calm you didn’t know you needed, the simple comfort of being in each other’s space.

“Do you ever think about the future?” you ask, your voice hesitant, unsure if you’re ready for the answer.

He watches you carefully, as if weighing your words. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, a crack in the façade of the god you’re so used to. He tilts his head, his fingers gently tracing the back of your hand.

“Of course, I think about it,” he admits softly. “But I’ve spent so many lifetimes running from it, from the choices that will define me. The future… It’s complicated.”

You can hear the hesitation in his voice, the way he never fully commits to what’s ahead. Loki is a god of chaos, after all. He’s never been good with stability, with the idea of permanence. His eyes search yours, as though trying to read your mind.

“And you?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

You swallow, a lump forming in your throat. “I think about it too, but… I don’t know. The future feels like a blurry mess sometimes.”

He steps closer, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a soothing motion. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that takes you by surprise. Loki, the god who’d always kept everyone at arm’s length, including his own family, is now standing before you, offering his loyalty in a way that feels… real. No tricks, no games, just the promise of something honest.

“Together,” you repeat softly, the word tasting different on your lips when it comes from him.

His eyes flicker to the horizon, as though he’s considering something, before he looks back at you with a soft chuckle. “And if the future is full of chaos, we’ll make it our own chaos.”

You laugh, but there’s something in your chest that tightens at the thought of a future with Loki — with all that he represents, with all the uncertainty and danger that follow him like a dark cloud. But in this moment, you push it aside. There’s no room for fear when he’s beside you.

Loki takes your hand and leads you toward the edge of the balcony, his fingers never leaving yours. “Come,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “Let’s watch the sunset. Together.”

As you sit side by side, the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in warm shades of pink and gold. The world around you may be shifting, always changing, but here, in this moment, everything feels still. The weight of time feels distant. The future feels like a far-off dream that you can’t quite touch.

You rest your head against his shoulder, the soft sound of his breath steadying your own. Loki shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on your back in an almost protective gesture. The quiet between you stretches, neither of you needing to speak.

For a moment, everything is perfect. The world, the chaos, the future — it all fades into the background, and all that remains is the calm. The love.

But deep down, you can’t ignore the feeling that this peace is fragile. Like glass, it’s delicate, and even though you’re holding onto it, you wonder how long it can last.

That peace doesn’t last forever.

The memory of that moment — the quiet between you, the warmth of his hand in yours — is the last thing you want to hold on to.

After everything has crumbled, after everything has changed, you find yourself sitting in a quiet, empty room, staring at the walls. The apartment feels hollow now, the silence too loud. The city outside moves on, unaware of the storm raging inside you.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

But Loki had become the God of Stories, and with that title came unimaginable power. The ability to rewrite fate itself, to shape reality, to weave his own narrative — and in the process, he’d lost himself. Or maybe it was you who had lost him. Maybe you were the one who didn’t fit into his new story.

You can still hear his voice in your mind, soft and warm, whispering that you would face the future together. But how could you face the future with him now? How could you stand by his side when he was no longer the Loki you knew?

It’s a bitter thought. One that claws at your chest. And the worst part is — you still love him. Even after everything. Even after the gods, after the chaos, after the mistakes, you still want him.

But it’s too much. The memories are too vivid, too painful. You can’t bear to remember him — not when every time you close your eyes, you see his face, and it’s like a stab to your heart.

You’ve made up your mind.

You’ll erase it all. Every memory of him.

The love. The pain. The warmth.

You’re not sure how, but you’ll do it. Because if you don’t, you’ll never move on. You’ll never be free.

The box feels heavier than it should as you lower it to the floor, your knees protesting the motion. A single lamp casts its warm glow across your apartment, but the light feels muted, swallowed by the shadows pressing in from every corner. It’s late, and the city outside seems quieter than usual, as if the world knows the significance of what you’re about to do.

Loki’s things are scattered around you in a mess of memories. A black scarf you once teased him about for being far too dramatic, a small leather-bound notebook filled with strange symbols and half-formed ideas, a gold trinket he’d magicked into existence one lazy afternoon to make you laugh. Each item holds a piece of him, of you, of you and him.

Your breath catches as you sit back on your heels, staring at the pile with a sinking feeling in your chest. It’s almost funny. You thought gathering his belongings would make it easier, like pulling off a bandage quickly to avoid the sting. But it’s worse. So much worse.

Your fingers tremble as they brush over the scarf. You remember the first time he wore it — the way it swept dramatically over his shoulder as he smirked at your teasing.

“Trying to impress me, Mischief?” you’d asked, a playful lilt to your voice.

Loki had leaned closer, that familiar spark of mischief lighting his green eyes. “Is it working?”

You’d laughed, shoving him lightly, but your heart had skipped a beat all the same. He had a way of doing that — making the smallest, most mundane moments feel like they belonged in an epic tale.

You shake your head, pulling yourself back to the present. The memory is too vivid, too sharp, and it slices through you like glass. That was before everything changed. Before he became something… unreachable.

Your fingers curl around the scarf, tightening as the memory threatens to drag you under. For a moment, you consider keeping it. Just this one thing. But no. You can’t. If you start keeping pieces of him, you’ll never let go.

You toss the scarf into the box, the action more forceful than you intended. It lands atop the notebook, the trinket, and the small collection of Loki’s things that have woven themselves into your life.

The notebook catches your eye again, and before you can stop yourself, you’re flipping it open. The pages are filled with Loki’s handwriting — sharp and elegant, like the man himself. Most of it is incomprehensible to you, written in Asgardian runes or some ancient language you don’t recognize. But on one page, near the middle, you find something familiar.

It’s your name.

Your breath hitches as you stare at the word, the letters carved into the page with a deliberate hand. Beneath it, a single line in English:

"You are my home."

The tears come then, hot and relentless, streaming down your cheeks before you can stop them. You clutch the notebook to your chest, your body shaking as the weight of it all crashes over you. He said those words to you once, late at night, when the world had felt quiet and safe.

You remember lying in bed together, his arm draped lazily over your waist, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. “You are my home,” he’d said, the words carrying a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “In all the realms, in all the chaos, I find my peace in you.”

And you had believed him. God, you’d believed him.

The notebook slips from your hands as you bury your face in your palms, sobs wracking your body. You’d thought you were strong enough to do this, to let him go, but the memories won’t stop. They cling to you like shadows, refusing to release their grip.

It’s not fair. He had no right to carve himself into your soul like this, to leave behind pieces of himself in every corner of your life. How are you supposed to erase someone who’s become a part of you?

You sit there for what feels like hours, the box of Loki’s things staring back at you like a silent witness to your unraveling. Eventually, the tears subside, leaving you hollow and exhausted. Your eyes sting, and your throat feels raw, but you force yourself to move.

Gathering the box, you rise to your feet, your legs unsteady. The plan is simple: take it to the small clearing behind the building, set it ablaze, and watch the memories burn. Maybe then the pain will ease. Maybe then you’ll finally be free.

You step outside, the cool night air biting against your skin. The clearing is quiet, save for the distant hum of the city. You place the box in the center, your fingers brushing over the edges one last time.

You light the match.

The flame flickers to life, small and fragile in your hand. You hesitate, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This is it. This is the final goodbye.

But as you stare at the flame, something inside you cracks. You think of the sunsets you watched together, the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the soft, unguarded moments that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

Can you really do this?

Your hand shakes as you lower the match, the flame dancing dangerously close to the edge of the box. The scent of sulfur fills the air, and for a moment, you think you’ll go through with it. You’ll let it all burn.

But then, the match falls from your fingers, the flame snuffing out as it hits the damp grass.

You drop to your knees, the box still untouched, your chest heaving with uneven breaths. You can’t do it. You can’t erase him, no matter how much it hurts to remember. Because the memories aren’t just painful. They’re beautiful, too.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

The bar is crowded, the kind of loud and bustling place you would never have chosen for yourself, but your friends insisted. “You need to get out,” they had said. “Meet people. Forget about him.”

Forget about him.

As if it were that simple.

You sit at a small, high table near the back, a drink cradled in your hand. The music pulses through the air, the bass thrumming in your chest, but it does nothing to drown out the thoughts that swirl endlessly in your mind. Around you, your friends laugh and chatter, their voices a blur of encouragement and reassurances.

It’s been months since Loki left — or, more accurately, since he became something else, someone you could no longer reach. Months since you tried to burn his things and failed, the box now tucked away in the corner of your closet like a secret you can’t bear to part with.

And yet, even with all the time and distance, the memories still haunt you. He’s still there, in the quiet moments, in the back of your mind, a shadow you can’t escape.

A new drink appears in front of you, courtesy of one of your friends. “He’s cute, isn’t he?” she whispers, nudging you with her elbow. You glance toward the bar, where a man stands with a confident smile and sharp cheekbones. He’s attractive, you suppose. Objectively. But as your gaze lingers, the comparisons begin, unbidden and unstoppable.

His hair isn’t as dark as Loki’s. His eyes aren’t as piercing. And when he smiles, it doesn’t make your chest tighten the way Loki’s did when he let his walls down and gave you that rare, genuine look that was only for you.

“Go talk to him,” your friend urges, her tone light and encouraging. You hesitate, but the expectant looks from the rest of your group leave you feeling cornered. With a reluctant sigh, you slide off your stool and make your way toward the bar.

The man notices you immediately, his smile widening as you approach. He introduces himself — James, or Jake, or something that doesn’t stick in your memory. You force a polite smile, nodding as he talks about his job, his hobbies, his plans for the weekend.

But you’re not really listening.

Instead, you’re thinking about how different he is. Loki’s voice had a way of wrapping around you, rich and velvety, with an edge that hinted at mischief or danger. His words weren’t just conversations; they were an invitation to step into his world, to see the universe through his eyes.

This man — James, Jake, whoever — is ordinary. Normal. And maybe that’s what you’re supposed to want now, but it feels hollow.

He says something that makes you chuckle politely, and for a moment, you catch yourself wondering what Loki would think if he saw you now. Would he be amused, watching you try to piece yourself back together with someone so utterly unremarkable? Or would he feel that flicker of jealousy, the possessiveness he always tried to hide but never fully could?

The thought twists something in your chest, and you excuse yourself quickly, claiming you need to get back to your friends.

“Not your type?” one of them teases when you return, her grin playful.

“No,” you say simply, sipping your drink. But the truth is more complicated than that. It’s not that he wasn’t your type. It’s that he wasn’t Loki.

The pattern repeats itself over the following weeks.

Your friends take you to new places, introduce you to new people, all with the hope that one of them will spark something in you. And each time, it ends the same way.

You meet someone kind, someone charming, someone your friends swear would be perfect for you. And each time, you find yourself comparing them to him.

No one holds a candle to Loki.

No one has that sharp wit, that clever tongue that made even the most mundane conversations feel electric. No one carries themselves with that effortless grace, the confidence of a god who knows he’s meant for greatness but still chooses to share himself with you. No one looks at you the way Loki did, like you were a puzzle he was desperate to solve, a mystery he could never quite unravel.

And the worst part is, you know it’s unfair. You know these men deserve more than your half-hearted attempts at connection. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop measuring them against him.

One evening, your closest friend pulls you aside after another failed attempt at setting you up. “You’re not giving them a chance,” she says gently, her concern evident.

“I am,” you argue, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know they’re not entirely true.

She sighs, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “I know it’s hard. I know you miss him. But you deserve to be happy, too. He’s not coming back, and holding onto him like this… it’s only hurting you.”

Her words cut deeper than you expect, and you find yourself blinking back tears. She’s right, of course. Loki isn’t coming back. The man you loved is gone, and the person he’s become is far beyond your reach.

But how do you let go of someone who’s etched into your soul? How do you move on when every part of you still aches for him?

“I’ll try,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if it’s a promise you can keep.

Your friend nods, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. “That’s all anyone can ask.”

But as the night goes on, as the world moves around you, you find yourself retreating into your thoughts, into the memories of a man who can never truly be replaced.

And in the quiet corners of your heart, you know the truth: no one will ever compare.

The apartment feels colder than it should, the kind of chill that creeps into your bones and refuses to let go. You sit curled up on the couch, staring at the flickering glow of the television, though you’re not really watching it. The sound is just there to fill the silence, to keep the walls from closing in.

But it doesn’t work. Not really.

Because even in the noise, you can hear his voice.

It starts small, the whispers of his tone weaving into the spaces between your thoughts. At first, you think it’s your imagination. Of course it is. Loki isn’t here. He’s not coming back. You’ve told yourself this a thousand times, clinging to the words like a mantra.

And yet…

The scent of leather and the faint trace of cedar linger in the air. The couch dips slightly beside you, a barely-there weight, but enough to make you glance to your right.

He’s there. Sitting casually with one arm draped over the back of the couch, his long legs crossed, and that infuriatingly familiar smirk playing at his lips.

“Miss me, darling?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing, as if he hasn’t been gone for months. As if you hadn’t been tearing yourself apart trying to forget him.

Your heart lurches, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it’s real. You can’t help it. The sight of him is so vivid, so perfect. The sharp angle of his jaw, the glint of mischief in his green eyes — it’s exactly how you remember.

“Loki…” The name slips from your lips before you can stop it, a mixture of disbelief and yearning.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Yes, my love?”

The words hit you like a wave, the tenderness in his tone unraveling you completely. Your vision blurs with tears, and you reach out, your hand trembling as it moves toward him. But the moment your fingers brush the air where his hand should be, the illusion shatters.

He’s gone.

The couch is empty. The room is still. The silence is deafening.

You pull your hand back slowly, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath. “No,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “No, no, no.”

Your voice breaks, the sound foreign to your ears. You clutch at the blanket draped over your lap, holding it tightly as if it could anchor you to reality. But it doesn’t. Nothing does.

“Why are you doing this to me?” you murmur into the empty room, your voice raw with anger and grief. “Why can’t I let you go?”

There’s no answer, of course. Just the echo of your own voice bouncing off the walls. But that doesn’t stop you from talking. It’s becoming a habit now, these conversations with no one.

Some nights, you sit at the dining table, setting out two glasses of wine even though you know the second will remain untouched. You’ll tell stories about your day, laughing softly at jokes that only you can hear. You’ll look toward the chair opposite you, expecting to see him lounging there, his sharp wit ready to match yours.

And some nights, like tonight, you’ll sit on the couch and swear you can feel him beside you.

“Loki,” you whisper again, the name tasting like salt on your tongue. “Why did you leave me?”

The apartment remains silent, but in your mind, you can hear his response. You can hear him apologizing, explaining that it wasn’t his choice, that becoming the God of Stories meant giving up everything he loved.

But it’s a lie. A lie you tell yourself to make the ache in your chest bearable. Because deep down, you know the truth: he could have stayed. He could have chosen you.

And yet, he didn’t.

The illusions get worse as the weeks pass.

At first, they’re fleeting — a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, a phantom touch brushing against your shoulder. But soon, they’re more vivid. More real.

You’ll hear his voice calling your name, soft and intimate, like he’s standing right behind you. You’ll turn around, your heart leaping with hope, only to find nothing but empty air.

And then there are the nights when you swear you feel his arms around you, holding you close as you drift off to sleep. Those nights are the worst, because when you wake up, the loneliness is suffocating.

Your friends notice the change in you, though you try to hide it. They don’t understand. How could they? They never knew him the way you did. They never loved him the way you do.

“You’re spiraling,” one of them says gently, her voice laced with concern. “You need help, Y/N. This… this isn’t normal.”

You nod, pretending to agree, but you don’t believe her. How could you need help when the only thing keeping you sane is the thought of him? When the illusions are the only moments you feel whole again?

One evening, you sit on the floor of your living room, surrounded by the box of Loki’s things you couldn’t bring yourself to burn. You pull out the scarf, holding it close to your chest as tears spill down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this without you,” you whisper into the fabric, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how.”

The room feels colder than ever, but as you close your eyes, you imagine his warmth enveloping you. You imagine him kneeling beside you, his hand brushing your hair back as he murmurs reassurances in that velvety voice.

But when you open your eyes, you’re still alone. And the scarf in your hands feels unbearably heavy.

You clutch it tighter, rocking slightly as the weight of your grief crashes over you. The world outside continues on, indifferent to your pain, but in this moment, all you can feel is the absence of him.

It’s a pain that no one else can understand, a loss that no one else can ease. And as the illusions pull you deeper into their grasp, you can’t help but wonder if letting go of him is even possible — or if you’re destined to carry this ache forever.

The dream begins the same way every time.

You’re standing in a golden field, the tall grass swaying gently in a breeze that carries the faintest scent of lavender. The sky above is painted in soft hues of orange and pink, a perpetual sunset that feels both warm and surreal. And there he is, waiting for you.

Loki.

He’s standing a few paces away, his silhouette sharp against the dreamy backdrop. His dark hair is tousled just so, and when he sees you, that familiar, crooked smile lights up his face. He opens his arms, and you run to him, your heart soaring in a way it hasn’t in what feels like forever.

In your dreams, there are no goodbyes, no insurmountable barriers. Here, you are just two people who love each other, untouched by the weight of reality.

“Missed me, darling?” he asks, his voice teasing yet warm as he pulls you into his arms.

“Always,” you murmur, burying your face in his chest. His scent surrounds you — leather and cedar, with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s intoxicating, grounding, and you never want to let go.

The dreams are your sanctuary, the only place where the ache in your chest quiets, where you feel whole again. You wake up every morning wishing you could stay there forever. And slowly, without realizing it, you begin to chase that feeling.

At first, it’s subtle. You let yourself sleep a little longer each morning, lingering in bed even as the sunlight streams through your window. Then you start skipping plans with your friends, feigning exhaustion or sickness so you can curl back under the covers.

The more time you spend in your dreams, the less you care about the waking world. Food becomes an afterthought, meals skipped in favor of lying in bed, hoping to drift off again. Even your appearance begins to change — your cheeks hollowing, your skin growing pale. But you hardly notice. All that matters is Loki.

Your friends notice the change in you long before you do.

“You’ve barely eaten,” one of them points out during a rare outing, her eyes scanning your face with obvious concern. “You’re so thin, Y/N. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you reply automatically, forcing a smile. But your voice lacks conviction, and you can tell she doesn’t believe you.

“You don’t look fine.” Her tone softens, but there’s a firmness beneath it. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been isolating yourself, skipping meals, avoiding everyone…”

“I’m just tired,” you say, cutting her off. “That’s all.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. You can see the worry etched into her features, but you’re too far gone to care. You’re tired of the concern, the pity, the endless attempts to pull you out of the darkness when all you want is to stay there, wrapped in the illusion of Loki’s presence.

One night, your friend shows up at your apartment unannounced. The moment she steps inside, she freezes, her eyes widening as she takes in the state of the place.

It’s a mess. Dishes piled in the sink, unopened mail scattered across the counter, curtains drawn tightly to keep out the daylight. And there you are, curled up on the couch in a hoodie that hangs off your frame, your eyes hollow and distant.

“Y/N,” she breathes, her voice breaking.

You barely look at her, your gaze fixed on the floor.

She sits down beside you, reaching for your hand. “You’re not okay,” she says, her voice trembling. “Please, let us help you.”

“I don’t need help,” you whisper, but even as you say it, tears spill down your cheeks.

“Yes, you do,” she insists, squeezing your hand. “You’ve been shutting us out, and it’s killing you. You’re wasting away, Y/N. I don’t know what’s going on, but you don’t have to face it alone.”

Her words pierce through the fog in your mind, and for a moment, you consider telling her the truth. Telling her about the dreams, about Loki, about the impossible grief that has consumed you. But the thought of saying it out loud feels like admitting he’s truly gone.

“I just need to sleep,” you say instead, pulling your hand away.

Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t press you further. She stands, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I can’t force you to let us in,” she says softly. “But I’m not giving up on you.”

After she leaves, you crawl back into bed, pulling the covers over your head. The dreams are waiting for you, and that’s all that matters.

But even the dreams begin to shift.

The golden fields grow dimmer, the sunsets less vibrant. Loki’s voice, once so warm and reassuring, takes on a melancholy edge. He holds you close, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” he asks one night, his voice soft but filled with anguish.

“What do you mean?” you reply, confused.

“You’re losing yourself,” he says, his hands cradling your face. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I don’t care,” you whisper. “I just want to be with you.”

Loki’s expression breaks, his own tears shimmering in his eyes. “But at what cost, my love? You’re fading away.”

The dream dissolves into darkness, leaving you gasping as you wake up. For the first time, the comfort of sleep feels like a betrayal, a reminder of how deeply you’ve sunk into the illusion.

And yet, the waking world offers no solace. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart aching with the weight of it all.

Because no matter where you are — asleep or awake — the pain remains. And you don’t know how to escape it.

It’s late afternoon when your friend arrives at your apartment, a determined look on her face as she steps inside. She doesn’t bother to hide her shock at the state of you. You’re sitting on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the television. Your hoodie hangs loosely on your frail frame, and your skin is pale, almost translucent under the dim lighting.

“Y/N,” she begins, closing the door behind her and walking toward you. There’s no judgment in her tone, only a desperate kind of concern. “I’ve been doing some research… and I think I found something that could help.”

You glance at her, your expression unreadable. “Help?”

“Yes.” She sits down beside you, her movements careful, as though she’s afraid you might shatter. “It’s… unconventional, but it’s worth considering.”

From her bag, she pulls out a pamphlet and places it on the coffee table. The bold lettering on the front reads: The Haven Institute: A New Beginning.

You eye it warily, your stomach twisting with unease. “What is this?”

She hesitates, then takes a deep breath. “It’s a clinic. They specialize in memory modification. They… they can help you forget him.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Forget him? The idea is so foreign, so unimaginable, that it feels like an affront to everything you’ve been holding onto.

“No,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, please just listen—”

“No!” You push yourself up from the couch, pacing the room with frantic energy. “I can’t. I won’t. He’s all I have left. If I forget him, then what? What’s left of me?”

Tears fill your friend’s eyes, but she doesn’t back down. “What’s left of you now?” she asks softly, her voice breaking. “Look at yourself, Y/N. You’re not living. You’re barely surviving. This… this isn’t what he would want for you.”

Her words strike a chord, but you shake your head, unwilling to let them sink in.

“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I can’t lose him again.”

That night, you dream of Loki again. But this time, the dream isn’t a golden field or a serene sunset. It’s your apartment, dimly lit and suffocatingly quiet.

He’s sitting across from you, his posture relaxed but his expression serious. There’s a weight to his gaze, a sadness that mirrors your own.

“You know she’s right,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that.”

Loki leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies you. “Do you think this is what I want for you? To see you like this, wasting away, consumed by grief?”

“I’m not wasting away,” you argue, but your voice lacks conviction.

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Aren’t you? Look at yourself, darling. You’re a shadow of the person I fell in love with. And it’s my fault. I see that now.”

“No,” you choke out, clutching at the fabric of your hoodie. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who can’t let go.”

“And that’s why you need to let me go,” he says, his voice breaking. “Not because you don’t love me, but because you do. Because holding onto me is killing you.”

You collapse onto the floor, sobbing into your hands as the weight of his words crashes over you. “I don’t know how,” you whisper. “I don’t know how to let you go.”

Loki kneels beside you, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “You can,” he says firmly. “You’re stronger than you think. And if erasing me is the only way to save you… then so be it.”

The dream begins to fade, his voice lingering in your mind even as the golden light dissolves into darkness.

You wake up gasping, tears soaking your pillow. The words from your dream replay over and over in your head, like a mantra you can’t escape: You need to let me go.

For the first time, you take a long, hard look at yourself. You walk to the bathroom and flick on the light, wincing at the reflection staring back at you. Your cheeks are hollow, your eyes dull, your once-vibrant presence reduced to a frail shadow.

Your hand trembles as you press it against the mirror, your breath fogging the glass. This isn’t you. This isn’t the person you used to be.

And Loki — whether he’s a dream, an illusion, or a memory too stubborn to fade — is right. You’ve let your grief consume you, and if you don’t do something soon, there won’t be anything left to save.

The next morning, you call your friend.

“I’ll do it,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go to the clinic.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and when she speaks, her voice is thick with emotion. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you admit. “But I can’t keep living like this.”

Your friend comes over that afternoon, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let her hold you as you cry. It’s a small step, but it’s a step nonetheless.

The pamphlet sits on the coffee table, a reminder of what’s to come. And as you stare at it, a part of you wonders if this is the right choice — if erasing Loki from your mind will truly set you free, or if it will only leave another kind of emptiness in its place.

But for now, you cling to the hope that it might bring you peace. That maybe you can find a way to start over.

The clinic is sterile, unnervingly clean, and entirely too quiet. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead sets your teeth on edge as you sit in the waiting area, clutching the scarf in your lap like a lifeline. It still smells faintly of him, though the scent is fading. You know it’s your imagination more than anything else, but you don’t care. It’s all you have left.

The receptionist calls your name, and you stand, legs trembling as you follow her down a long corridor. Your friend is waiting outside in the car, insisting she couldn’t bear to come in. You told her you’d be fine, but now, as the door to the consultation room closes behind you, you’re not so sure.

The doctor is kind, their voice calm and reassuring as they explain the procedure once again. You listen, nodding at the appropriate times, but your mind is elsewhere — lost in the memories you’re about to give up.

“Do you have the belongings?” the doctor asks gently, gesturing to the small box you’ve brought with you.

You nod, setting it on the table with shaking hands. Inside are the remnants of your life with Loki: a book he loved to read aloud from, a pair of cufflinks he’d left on your dresser, and the scarf you’ve been holding onto for dear life.

The doctor notices your grip on the scarf and tilts their head. “You don’t have to let go of everything,” they say, their tone encouraging. “We can modify the memory tied to an object if you’d prefer to keep it.”

You glance down at the soft fabric, your fingers tracing the intricate weave. The thought of losing this piece of him entirely feels unbearable, but the idea of it being tied to him — tied to your grief — is equally suffocating.

“Can you… can you change the memory?” you ask hesitantly. “Make it something else?”

The doctor nods. “Of course. What would you like it to mean?”

You think for a moment, your mind swirling with possibilities. Finally, you settle on something simple, something that feels safe. “A lucky charm,” you say quietly. “It’s a scarf I’ve had for years, and I keep it for good luck.”

The doctor smiles gently. “We can do that.”

Before the procedure, they give you a moment alone to say goodbye — not to the belongings, but to the memories themselves.

You sit on the chair in the dimly lit room, the scarf draped across your lap. The illusion of Loki appears before you, as vivid as ever, his expression unreadable.

“So, this is it,” he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

You nod, tears welling in your eyes. “I guess it is.”

Loki steps closer, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure this is what you want, my love?”

“I don’t want it,” you admit, your voice trembling. “But I need it. I need to move on. And I can’t… not like this.”

He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek, though you can’t feel his touch. “You’ve always been stronger than you know,” he murmurs. “Stronger than me, even.”

You let out a shaky laugh, fresh tears spilling over. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists, his eyes glinting with that familiar intensity. “And now, you’ll prove it.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. You simply look at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every nuance of his expression.

“Goodbye, Loki,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

His smile is soft, bittersweet. “Goodbye, my love.”

He fades slowly, the edges of his figure dissolving into the air until there’s nothing left but an empty room.

The doctor guides you into the operating chair, the soft hum of machinery filling the space. They place a device over your temples, adjusting the settings as they explain what to expect. You barely hear them, your mind still caught in the aftershocks of saying goodbye.

“This will be painless,” the doctor says gently. “You may experience flashes of the memories as they’re removed, but it will be quick.”

You nod, gripping the scarf tightly.

The machine begins to whir, and the first memory surfaces.

It’s the night you met him, his sharp wit and charming smile disarming you instantly. You remember the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room.

The memory dissolves, and another takes its place.

Loki teaching you magic, his laughter filling the room when you accidentally summon a puff of smoke instead of a flame. “We’ll make a sorceress of you yet,” he had said, pride gleaming in his eyes.

That memory fades, too, replaced by the time he held you under a canopy of stars, his voice a soft murmur as he told you stories of Asgard.

One by one, the memories play out, each one tugging at your heart until it feels like it might break entirely. But you let them go, because you have to.

The last memory is the hardest. It’s the day he left, his hand brushing against yours for the final time. You see the pain in his eyes, the love he couldn’t put into words, and it nearly undoes you.

“Be happy,” he had whispered, his voice cracking. “For both of us.”

As the memory fades, you feel a strange sense of peace. The pain is still there, but it’s muted now, distant.

When the procedure is over, the doctor removes the device and places the scarf in your hands. “It’s done,” they say gently.

You hold the scarf close, feeling its softness against your skin. It’s just a scarf now — a lucky charm, nothing more.

And as you leave the clinic, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter, the world a little brighter.

It’s not a perfect ending, but it’s a new beginning. And for now, that’s enough.

Life after the clinic is quieter, simpler.

You wake up each morning to sunlight streaming through your window, the warmth of it brushing your face. Your days are filled with routines now — a job you’ve rediscovered a passion for, weekend brunches with friends who are no longer burdened with worry over you, and quiet evenings spent reading or listening to music.

On the surface, everything seems fine. You smile more, laugh more. Your friends notice the change and comment on how much better you look. “It’s so good to have you back,” one of them says during a coffee date, her eyes brimming with relief.

You nod, sipping your latte, and try to believe her.

But there’s an ache in your chest that you can’t quite place. A dull, persistent tug that makes itself known when the world grows quiet — when you’re walking home alone in the evening or lying in bed just before sleep takes you. It’s not sharp or overwhelming, just… there. A void you can’t fill, no matter how hard you try.

Your apartment is different now. Cleaner, brighter. The curtains are drawn back to let in the sunlight, and the once-cluttered surfaces are neatly organized. You’ve even picked up a few plants, their green leaves adding life to the space.

And yet, sometimes, when you walk into the living room, you pause, your eyes lingering on the empty chair by the window. For a moment, you feel like something — or someone — should be there. But the thought slips away as quickly as it comes, leaving you puzzled but not overly concerned.

The scarf has become a part of your everyday life. You wear it on days when you need a little extra confidence, its soft fabric a comforting weight around your neck. It’s your lucky charm, though you can’t quite remember where you got it or why it feels so important.

One afternoon, as you’re folding laundry, you find yourself holding the scarf a little longer than necessary. A strange, bittersweet feeling washes over you, like you’re on the verge of remembering something — or someone — just out of reach.

You shake it off, folding the scarf neatly and tucking it away in your drawer.

Dreams come to you occasionally, hazy and fragmented. They’re filled with flashes of green and gold, the sound of laughter you can’t place, and the sensation of strong arms wrapping around you.

You wake from these dreams with a strange mixture of comfort and longing, your heart aching for something — or someone — you can’t name. But the feeling fades as the day goes on, replaced by the mundanity of everyday life.

One evening, as you’re walking home from work, a sudden gust of wind whips through the street, tugging at your scarf. You clutch it tightly, a shiver running down your spine despite the warmth of your coat.

For a brief moment, you feel as though you’re being watched, as though someone is standing just behind you, their presence familiar and reassuring. You turn quickly, your eyes scanning the empty street, but there’s no one there.

You laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you continue walking. But the feeling lingers, a warmth in your chest that stays with you for the rest of the night.

Time passes, and the ache in your heart becomes easier to ignore. You focus on the present, on the life you’ve rebuilt. You’re content, if not entirely happy.

But every now and then, when the world grows quiet, you find yourself staring into the distance, your fingers brushing absentmindedly over the scarf around your neck.

You don’t know what it is you’re searching for.

And maybe you never will.

ah yes, the angst! I love it, I've been crying for the last 2k words lol

[michelleleewise]

Fire and Ash...

A Long Live the King Tale..

Pairing: King Jotun Loki x Asgardian female reader

Warnings: there be angst here!! Cause it's me....come on lol mentions of labor and delivery (cesarean...not graphic), mentions of alcohol, yelling, crying, swearing, jealousy, assumptions, self doubt,

Summary: Loki is off realm as an unexpected surprise arises....causing you to question your relationship....

A/n- ok so......this is the continuing saga of Loki of Jotunhiem and y/n of Asgard. Because an epilogue wasnt enough lol i hope you all enjoy!!! 💚💚

Part Thirteen--Part one-

One year after your return to Jotunhiem-

"WHERE IS HE!?" You yelled, gripping your stomach as your knees buckled "I have sent word my queen, he should be here shortly." Alrik said grabbing your elbow "don't touch me!" You yelled trying to steady your breathing "apologies my queen." Alrik said quickly letting go. Bracing yourself on the wall you took a deep breath as the pain passed "a..alrik, will you...hold my hand?" You asked trying to straighten yourself "umm...yes my queen." He said holding his hand out. "We must get you to the the healers, we cannot wait." He said as you placed your hand in his.

"Fine time for a trip to Asgard." You growled clenching your jaw "king thor..." alrik started when you shot a glare at him "I do not give a damn about king Thor!" You snapped feeling another wave coming "His place is here with me, Not galavanting around like some school boy!" You yelled as the pain set into your lower abdomen "yes my queen, you are absolutely right." Alrik quickly said as you doubled over holding your stomach. "If he is not here in five minutes I will Stab him myself!" You gritted "very good my queen." Alrik agreed as you slowly straightened "t..take me to the...the healers, I cannot take this." You said shakely as the pain eased.

"Would you mind if i carried you my queen? It will be faster." He asked watching you intently "and have the men see me as some weak woman!? Not on your life." You said taking a deep breath. "You will walk me there." You said straightening your spine, pushing your chest out trying to look as composed as possible "of course my queen." He said walking to the door he held your hand tightly as you walked into the long hallway. You held your head up, chin out as you walked towards the healing chambers, Alrik taking slow strides to match your pace when another wave hit hard. "They are getting closer, we must hurry." Alrik rushed out watching you double over. "This will happen when I say so." You growled again trying to breath. "I am not sure it works that way my queen." He said seeing everyone looking at them.

"Fuck! C..carry me! I...I can't.." you groaned feeling a tear slide down your cheek as Alrik laced his arm under your legs holding you to his chest he began to run "we need the healers! Quicky!" Alrik's voice echoed through the halls as he maneuved around eveyone "a...alrik..." you panted, gripping your stomach feeling the tears streaming freely "I know my queen, we will be there shortly." He assured you as he sped up his pace "move you oafs!" He yelled to a group of guards standing by the entrance to the healers "if anything happens to the queen you will face Loki's wrath." He growled as they quickly dispersed. "It's ok my queen, we are here." Alrik said setting you down on a small bed.

"What has happened?" One of the healers, Norendra asked rushing over "it is time, you must assist her!" Alrik said walking to the side of the bed grabbing your hand "but...this wasn't supposed to happen for weeks." She said calling over the other healers "well it did!" You yelled making her jump. "I...I'm so...sorry." you panted laying your head back against the pillow "it is alright y/n." She said offering a soft smile. "You, quickly retrieve me the pain elixir from the cabinet." Norendra said grabbing your other hand "all will be well soon, keep taking deep breaths." She cooed rubbing the back of your hand "w...where is L...loki." you asked taking a shaky breath "I am unsure my queen, but we will get through this." Alrik smiled dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth. "I...I need him." You said, unable to stop the sob that escaped you. "He will be here y/n, I know he will." Akrik said trying to calm you.

The other healer came over, handing the elixir to Norendra before joining the other healers fluttering around the room. "Here, drink this and all will be well." She smiled holding the vial to your lips you leaned up drinking it all before settling back down. You felt your eyes droop, sleep calling your name looking up Alrik "t..thank you...for everything." You smiled feeling the pain cease "anytime my queen." He smiled back "i...I love you...your like the brother I never had." You said squeezing his hand "sleep well...sister." he smiled as your eyelids slowly dropped, sleep taking you. "We will have to perform surgery." Norendra said to the other healers making Alrik look up "what? Why? Everything has been fine." He said taking a step towards her "it is in the wrong position, we must act now." She said bringing everything to the side of the bed.

"And since the king is off realm and you are her guard you must stay." She said sternly pointing to a chair in the corner. Alrik sighed, bringing the chair over he sat it down next to the bed grabbing your hand In his "loki...I will get you for this." He growled rubbing your hand with his thumb he averted his eyes as the healers prepped you

Loki sighed, gripping the handle he swung the door open walking into the tavern. He made sure his asgardian illusion was in place as he glanced around finally spotting the massive blonde he had been looking for. "Thor!" He yelled making his way around servers and patrons "ah Loki there your are!" Thor bellowed standing up. "Mother said you needed to see me?" Loki asked looking around at the drunken revelers and their half naked aquantinces "yes! I wanted to introduce you to my friends seeing as whenever you are here you never come out." He said taking his seat pulling a voluptuous red head into his lap making Loki roll his eyes as he sat down "volstagg, fandral, hogun and of course the lovely lady sif." Thor said pointing to each one as he introduced them "everyone, this is Loki, my brother." Thor said clapping him on the back.

"I was not aware Thor had a brother." Sif said eyeing him. "Yes well, we only fairly recently discovered it and Odin was not my father." Loki said waving a server over "ah I see, well it is a pleasure to meet you." She said smiling as the others lifted their glasses "here here!" Thor said downing his drink "another!" He yelled throwing it to the ground shattering it making Loki jump. "So brother tell me, how are you enjoying Asgard this time of year?" Thor asked wrapping his large arms around the red head in his lap "it is fine, I only wish it wasn't so stifling." Loki said as the server set a drink in front of him "Well we will make it worth your while won't we?" He asked the small group of friends as they started cheering and laughing, loki looking around at them seeing sif giving him an odd look "drinks all around!" Thor yelled as a group of servers decended on the table. "Drink up, the night is young." Thor winked at Loki making him sigh. "Only one Thor then I must retire, I return home tomorrow." Loki said sitting back "we shall see." Thor said giving his friends a sly look as they all picked up their tankards.

Several hours and drinks later Loki stumbled back to his chambers, much to his chagrin Thor had coaxed him into drink after drink as the revelry bled long into the night. "Norns what was in that mead?" Loki sighed leaning his head on the door to his room he pushed it open stumbling inside. "That oaf will be the death of me." He said peeling his tunic off he tossed it onto a chair by the fire before slumping down on the chaise across from it. A smile spreading across his face at the memory of you and him on the one in his sitting room when a faint knock sounded at the door. "No Thor! I am done for the evening." He said resting his head on the back of the chaise when his door opened "oh come now, you cannot be tired yet." Thor said walking inside closing the door behind him. "Well I am so if you don't mind." Loki sighed pinching the bridge of his nose as Thor plopped down on the chair across from him "or have a seat I suppose." Loki snarked sitting up. "I only came to offer a night cap." He said wiggling a flask back and forth "and possibly offer some company this evening." He smirked and winked making Loki's brow furrow.

"We have some of the most exquisite pleasure maidens in all the nine." He said sitting back "and I am certain one would be more then happy to spend the evening with the king of Jotunhiem." He said giving Loki a knowing look "I beg your pardon?" Loki asked taken aback "oh, we also have men if you prefer or maybe a bit of both eh?" Thor asked wiggling his eyebrows "no Thor, you know of my relationship with y/n." Loki said sternly looking into the fire. "I only know you took her back with you. You haven't spoken much of her...although mother tells me she is expecting your child?" Thor asked taking a drink "yes she is, I care for her deeply." Loki said taking the flask from Thor "well from the sounds of it she is no more then a concubine carrying your heir." Thor shrugged "she is more then that brother." Loki growled glaring at him "I love her." He continued taking a drink. "Well then why have you not married her? Made her your queen then?" Thor asked holding his hand out "well i...we just haven't...you don't understand..." loki stuttered handing the flask back.

"Loki you needn't explain anything to me, I was only offering you company for the night...help relieve your stress." Thor said taking a drink "your trips here seem to be becoming more frequent and your stays longer, is everything alright between you two?" Thor asked eyeing him. "You wouldn't understand thor." Loki sighed sitting back "I was not expecting y/n to be with child so soon, i...I am not sure I am ready." Loki said titling his head back "well it's a bit late for that." Thor laughed "have you spoken to y/n about this?" Thor asked "no, I have not. She has not been quite herself as of late, the child has not been easy on her." Loki said closing his eyes "I have not wanted to burden her with my troubles as well." Loki said sighing. "So your solution is to leave?" Thor asked making Loki's head shoot up "because it seems to me that is going to cause more problems then lessen them." He said shaking his head "as I said brother, you would not understand." Loki said standing up "now if you will excuse me I am quite tired." Loki said pointing to the door. "Alight I'll go, but I truly feel you are digging yourself a hole you won't be able to get out of." Thor said standing up holding his hands up.

"Thor..." loki started when the door to his chambers flew open, frigga walking inside "I have received word from Heimdall your child is on the way." She said looking between them "what!? We are weeks away!' Loki yelled grabbing his tunic "apparently not." Thor laughed "good luck brother, and congratulations." He said patting Loki on the back as he left. "Heimdall is waiting for us at the bifrost." Frigga said quickly turning and leaving "norns help me." Loki said righting his tunic following her. Silence hung heavy between them as they walked to the bifrost, Loki's anxiety rising the closer they got. "Son, what troubles you?" Frigga finally asked making Loki sigh "what if I'm a terrible father? What if I become like Laufey?" He asked looking up at the golden dome "Loki, you have a good heart...you will not be as he was." Frigga said looking over at him "but i..." he trailed off looking up at the stars "no buts! You will be an excellent father." Frigga said sternly as they walked in seeing Heimdall ready "but, whatever is happening between you and y/n you must repair it." She said grabbing his elbow "I know you have been hurt and your are scared but do not shut her out." She said offering a soft smile seeing him nod.

"Heimdall, king Loki is ready to return to Jotunhiem." Frigga said sternly seeing the man nod "when you are ready." He said sliding the sword into the podium "I will return to tell you of y/n and the little one." Loki said hugging frigga to him "take care Loki, lest you lose everything." She said hugging him back. Loki pulled back nodding, flicking his wrist his illusion dropped, his skin fading from ivory to azure. "Be well my son." Frigga said as loki stepped up to the opening "be well Mother." He called back as Heimdall turned the sword sending him home.

You drifted through the haze, pain blossoming in your stomach hearing voices floating through the room "Loki, as a friend you are a complete fool." Alriks voice snapped bringing you back. Slowly opening your eyes you saw Loki and Alrik across the room "you need to talk to her." Alrik's voice sounded again "talk to me about what?" You asked, seeing both their heads snap to look at you "nothing love, we can talk when you are better." Loki smiled walking towards you when alrik grabbed his shoulder "do it...or I will." He growled nodding to you before quickly leaving the room. "W..what was..." you trailed off trying to sit up when a sharp pain shot through you "love lay back, you need to rest." Loki said gently pushing you back when reality slammed into you.

"Whe...where's the..." you started when Loki cupped your face in his hands "y/n, he is fine, he's sleeping." He said nodding to the small bassinet on the side of the bed. You took a deep breath laying back against the pillow "thank the norns." You sighed closing your eyes. "They had to perform surgery my love, he would not come out on his own." Loki said taking a seat on the bed next to you. "Why?" You asked, looking up at him feeling your eyes burn "why weren't you here Loki?" You asked clearing your throat "I am so sorry love, I thought we had time and i was..." you scoffed cutting him off "in Asgard, yes I know." You sneered looking to the ceiling "you are there more then you are not these past months." You said fighting the tears that threatened to fall "y/n my love, i..." loki was cut off as the healer came in "apologies my king but she needs rest, I have to ask you to leave." Norendra said standing at the foot of the bed "very well, just give me a moment?" Loki said seeing her nod and walk across the room.

"My love, you know I only wish to know the family that was taken from me." Loki said as you tilted your head, a tear betraying you sliding down your cheek "am i not your family as well?" You asked watching him look down to his lap "I am sure you have gotten your fill as well...seeing as I could not accommodate you." You snarked looking back to the ceiling "now y/n, that is..." Loki started when Norendra stepped up again "my king I must insist." She said sternly. "We will discuss this later y/n." Loki said, watching you stare unmoving at the ceiling as he stood up "please ensure she has anything she desires." Loki said seeing Norendra nod he quickly turned making his way to the door, glancing back watching you roll to your side your back facing him "I'm sorry y/n." He whispered opening the door stepping out.

"Did you talk to her?" Alrik asked suddenly making Loki jump "no, she is in no state right now." Loki said briskly walking to the throne room "I meant what I said, you do it or I will." He said making Loki stop and turn to him "why are you so concerned hmm?" Loki asked crossing his arms "have you two grown close in my absence?" Loki sneered watching Alrik take a step towards him "if we were not blood Brothers Loki..." he growled clenching his jaw "I care for her a great deal, she is like a sister to me and I will not allow even you to treat her as less then she deserves." Alrik said sternly, his voice rising getting the others attention "you will watch how you speak to me! Brothers or not I am your king!" Loki yelled taking a step towards him.

"And she is my queen!" Alrik yelled "and she deserves to be treated as such, not left alone by the man who says he loves her!" He continued taking another step towards Loki, leaning down he held his gaze "the man you are now..." he trailed off looking Loki up and down "does not deserve her." Alrik sneered standing back up "I will be in my chambers should you need me...my king." He sneered quickly turning walking the other way down the hall. Loki stood speechless, Alrik's words sinking in as he watched him walk away. He's right...you don't deserve her loki thought to himself turning back to the throne room, taking a deep breath he looked down the hall towards the healers deciding where his priorities lie he turned and walked towards your room, slowly opening the door he quietly slipped inside

"my king, what are you doing?" Norendra whisper yelled at him storming over "please, y/n and my son are here...allow me to stay?" He asked feeling the tears well in his eyes "fine, but you will be quiet yes?" She asked as he nodded "very well, come visit your son." She said walking over to the bassinet, Loki following behind her "have you thought of a name my king?" She asked carefully picking him up as Loki held his arms out, cradling his son to his chest "yes...we did in fact." Loki whispered, running his finger along his sons tiny cheek. "Vali Alrik Lokison." Loki smiled seeing his sons lips turn up at the corners. "That's a beautiful name my king." Norendra said grabbing a chair from the corner "here, sit with him...she will wake in a bit to feed him." She said as Loki sat down rocking his son in his arms. "You will be a great king one day." Loki whispered hearing Vali coo "better then I I am certain." Loki smiled when soft snores came from the bundle in his arms.

"Sleep well little one, you have much to discover." Loki cooed leaning back in the chair he looked up at your sleeping form, regret filling him at not being here when you needed him. "I will be better...for you...for our son...I swear it." He whispered closing his eyes. He leaned down kissing his sons forehead humming to him as he rocked him back and forth. "I swear it.." he whispered again, a tear streaming down his cheek as he gazed at the most precious things in his life.

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[ellamuffin97]

💚Unfettered 💚

Pairing: Lokixfem!reader

Rating: E, 18+

Wordcount: ~8K

Warnings: sex pollen,use of restains ,Loki gets SCARY , lots of dirty talk,sedation, injection,reference to violence ,oral receive (m) while Loki is chained up but not drugged anymore

Summary: when Loki is drugged on a mission he asks you to restrain him because he knows damn well that he is not going to be able to keep his hand off you .

You were sitting on a chair in Banners lab tagging all the jars he asked you to , when the door opened suddenly . You knew it was Loki returning from his mission . He doesn’t said a word , so you didn’t bother looking up from your task when he strode into the lab .

He slapped the control on the wall and kept his hand pressed firmly to the panel, frozen in place, as the door closed slowly. You caught the limited movement in your periphery while you worked, thinking vaguely that he must be exhausted.

“How’d it go?” you asked, rubbing the dirty jar you was holding before putting the tag on it .

Loki didn’t respond. No sigh, no grunt. Nothing.

That grabbed your attention. Loki was never talkative, often relying on one-word rejoinders, but he always answered direct questions, especially from you. Lately, he was even initiating conversations during the times he met you around the tower .

You looked up and were surprised to see that there was none of the other Avengers in sight—it was just Loki standing by the door , his hand still pressed to the control panel like he couldn’t bring himself to move. He looked… agitated. You could read the tension in his body; the fist hanging by his side was clenched and his shoulders were drawn up.

“Loki ?” you asked, the confusion apparent in your voice, as you set the jar down and got to your feet.

“No.” Without moving from his position, he whipped his head around and held up a palm to halt your advance. “Don’t… Don’t come any closer.”

“What—?”

He pointed a threatening finger at your chest. “Stay. There.”

You were so shocked by his unexpected command that you obeyed, staying rooted to the spot.

That’s when you really took in his appearance: he was shaking, the hand pointed at your chest trembling slightly. His armor was dirty—smeared with what was unmistakably blood. His chest was heaving as if breathing alone was a herculean effort.

When he saw that you were listening to him, he nodded stiffly and wrenched his hand away from the wall. With leaden steps, he walked over to the storage crate and dragged it into the middle of the floor. Each of his mechanical movements looked like it required every ounce of his control to execute.

“Why—?”

He grunted, ignoring your question again. You watched in stunned silence as he stripped off all of his daggers, even his cape and spare ammo, with stunted, jerky motions and dropped them on the floor .

He took 4 thick heavy chains and the collar that Tony created to prevent him from using his powers and without a word he got out the lab and went straight to the secure tower , where he’ve been hold when he first came in the tower .

He put the collar around his neck , then started to chain his own ankles , one by one .

You followed him , watching him in complete shock.

“Loki , what the fuck are you doing?”

He whipped his head up to look at you and commanded: “Help me with this.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together: “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I’m not going to chain—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, he snarled: “Just shut up and fucking help me.”

You stood there, dumbstruck, and cycled through several emotions in rapid succession. Your initial shock was immediately replaced by irritation as you registered his rude words. Anger flickered brightly across your consciousness, but it was quickly supplanted by confusion: he had never spoken to you in that tone of voice, let alone told you to shut up. Finally, fear settled in, thick and weighty, like a fog threatening to choke you.

You approached him slowly, kneeling on the other side of the tangle of chains.

“What happened to you?” you asked gently, reaching out to touch his arm.

He jerked away immediately, so quickly that he almost lost his balance. He thrust out an arm to steady himself on the wall behind him.

“Don’t—don’t touch me. Please.” His voice was suddenly small, almost quavering.

Your heart rate kicked up again.

“Lo, you’re scaring me. Tell me what’s going on.”

He looked up at you, voice slightly softer but still firm and urgent. “Help me with this, then I’ll explain.”

You stared at him.

“Please,” he repeated.

He was begging you. That was when the real fear sank in.

Without another word, you helped him get the wrist cuffs in place. Then, standing beside him, you followed his directions as he instructed you to secure the ends of the four chains: two to bolts on the wall, and two to bolts on the floor. The two on the wall were affixed to his arm restraints, the two on the floor to his ankles. Initially, you left slack in the chains, plenty of room for him to move, but he insisted that you tighten them enough so that his back was almost flush to the wall and he couldn’t extend his hands out any further than the natural reach of his long arms.

He sighed, shoulders slumping in relief, when you clicked the last restraint in place.

You looked up at him. Loki was strung up against the wall , arms hanging by his sides, suspended about a foot away from his body, and his legs were splayed slightly in a wide stance, boots a couple feet apart.

It was quite a sight.

If you weren’t so worried about what was happening, you’d definitely be having some… ideas. They were completely inappropriate ideas, especially considering the stark reality that the two of you were nothing more than colleagues .

“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “Now, p-please, step away from me.”

You reluctantly complied, taking several careful steps backward, keeping your gaze trained on his eyes .

“Okay, I did what you asked. Now tell me what happened.”

His breathing was still labored. “H-hit with a bio-dart, aphrodisiac drug. Strong… Heard of them before, but never encountered one until now.”

You gave him a skeptical look, raising one eyebrow, “…An aphrodisiac drug as a weapon? I thought that was a myth.”

“Apparently not.”

You surveyed him again as the reality of the situation washed over you.

He continued, words spilling out of his mouth in a rush like he was running out of time to explain : “H-had to get back to the tower . Didn’t trust myself. Left everybody there. I’ll go back later if they’ll still need me . No-no time to... I had-had to—before I—”

His whole body tensed suddenly, cutting off his own sentence, and he threw his head back as an ugly, feral sound tore from his chest.

You stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Fuck, are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You panicked, desperately trying to think of some way to help him as he flailed.

He writhed for another moment then thankfully stilled, slowly raising his head to look at you again. He sounded wrecked when he spoke again: “No, no. It doesn’t hurt, not exactly. Not yet at least. It’s—it feels like…” He trailed off, glancing toward the floor.

You prompted him: “Like what?”

Before he could answer you, another wave wracked through him, and he thrashed against the restraints. You fought the urge to cross the space and soothe him. Even in the most stressful, life-threatening situations, Loki was always the picture of composure: calm, collected, calculating. So, it was unnerving to see him like this—overcome and out of control. You were itching to touch him, to ease his discomfort somehow. After another moment, he recovered.

When his eyes found your face again, he rasped: “It feels like if I don’t fuck you right now, I’m going to die.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. You swallowed hard, staring at him… all thoughts suddenly gone, mind completely blank.

He filled the fraught silence, straining forward slightly, his voice dipping an octave: “I want to fuck you so badly, baby.”

Your heart dropped at the unexpected pet name, a wave of wetness unapologetically gathering between your thighs.

Fuck. This was not at all the situation you had imagined—Loki drugged and chained up—but you had definitely dreamt of him saying some version of those words to you… on a regular basis, like maybe every night you ever spent in the tower since the day you met him .

He spoke again, trembling as he said: “This is fucking torture, you standing there, looking like that. And I can’t even fucking touch you. Shit. Shit. Shit. I want to—I want to touch you.”

Without your explicit permission, your feet moved you one step forward.

Loki shook his head back and forth violently, head jerking like he was trying to clear unwelcome thoughts by sheer force. “Odin’s beard , this is really fucking with my head. I’m-I’m sorry—I’m not myself.”

Only one question came to mind, one thing you were desperate to know.

“So…it’s just the drug?”

You waited, holding your breath, hoping he knew exactly what you were asking him.

He snapped his head up, meeting your gaze. He sounded surprisingly sober for a moment. “No. It’s not,” he stated bluntly. “I always want to fuck you. It’s just now I… I can’t control that urge.”

Suddenly, the room felt hot, suffocatingly so. You inched forward again.

His confession flooded you with courage. “What if… what if I want you to fuck me?”

Loki whined, body convulsing, shoulders collapsing forward as far as they could against his arm restraints. You were so shocked by the foreign sound that you actually took a step back—you’d never, ever heard him make a noise remotely close to that. You’d cauterized gaping wounds for him, removed a jagged blade from deep in his thigh, witnessed him take a sword the side, sutured countless lacerations with no local anesthetic… but you’d never heard him whine. It was high and needy, desperate and pathetic .

“Don’t-don’t say that, please don’t fucking say that to me right now… please… I c-can’t handle it.”

The chains creaked ominously, the links clanking together as he shifted against them.

“But, I mean it. I always want you to fuck me too,” you continued, ignoring Loki’s feeble requests.

You squeaked and flinched back again when he suddenly lunged forward, hands gripping the chains and pulling hard. His arms and legs were immediately wrenched back, his torso straining toward you. He panted: “Gods, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt of you saying-saying that to me, kærasta.”

Even through his situation , his stare was scalding, his gaze scorching your skin as he surveyed you, his eyes trailing all the way down and back up your body.

You stepped toward him.

He jerked his head to the side suddenly, tearing his gaze away, and whined again—more quietly this time, more resigned. When he said the next words, you could hear how tightly his jaw was set: “Not like this. I-I won’t fuck you for the first time like this. I-I won’t forgive myself if I hurt you.”

You took another, much larger step forward.

“You won’t hurt me.”

He whipped his face up to watch you again. His voice was dangerous now, menacing, as he growled: “Yes, yes—I will. You don’t understand what this feels like. I can’t control myself—it’s a fucking miracle I didn’t take you the moment I walked back onto the lab and saw you sitting there—so fucking gorgeous—and it’s only gotten worse.” He let out another frustrated growl, then continued: “I don’t just want to fuck you, I want to wreck you, I want-want to wreck you until you can’t walk and then fuck you again. I want to tear you apart. Ruin you with my cock.”

He said those words like a threat, but you couldn’t help the way they sent heat coursing through your veins, a shiver down your spine. You stepped toward him one more time. You were almost within his reach.

“DON’T,” he ordered, voice deadly serious. “Really, I can’t control myself. S-stay back.”

Even as he told you to stay away, though, he reached a hand out for you, legs and arms straining forward, trying to get closer to you. His mouth was saying one thing, his body begging for another.

You stayed where you were, just out of his reach, and asked: “How long will this last?”

“I don’t know… I hope no longer than a few hours. It’s already been at least an hour since I got hit. But it’s-it’s gotten worse.”

You could hear the exhaustion and exertion in his voice. He was barely holding it together, and you knew you needed to do whatever you could to make this easier on him, not harder. So, you shoved down your own selfish desire and with great reluctance, stepped away from him. You sat down on the floor across from him and said, “Then, I guess… we’ll wait it out.”

He nodded vaguely, leaning against the wall behind him with a loud sigh.

You sat in uncomfortable silence for several long minutes. You busied yourself by playing on your phone . Every so often, the restraints jangled loudly when Loki was wracked by a brutal surge of need and struggled violently. You tried your best not to flinch every time it happened.

Eventually, he disrupted the silence by saying your name.

Before you even looked up at him, though, you knew—you knew that the Loki you’ve known was gone.

His voice had dropped several octaves, and it sounded different… honeyed, charming, drawling, depraved. It was fucking sultry. When you looked up at him, you immediately noticed his body language. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what exactly had changed, but something about him was off.

All you knew was that, suddenly, a dangerous stranger was standing across the room from you. For the first time, you were truly grateful for those thick fucking chains.

His voice was smooth and calm when he said: “I need your help, sweetheart.”

You looked away from him, playing back on your phone instead. The way he rasped the word sweetheart would be burned into your brain for the rest of your life. It made your whole body feel hot.

“Come over here, beautiful,” he coaxed. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and now I know you want me too—you can’t hide from me anymore, princess.”

Princess. You didn’t answer. You just sat in silence and shrieked internally.

He said your name again—this time more urgently—then abruptly changed his tack : “Gods, this hurts so much now, it burns—I need you to make it stop hurting. Be a good girl and help me.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek.

When you didn’t respond, he tested a third approach, his voice pitching low and sensual : “Please, darling , don’t you want me? I’m so fucking hard for you right now. I’ll make you feel so, so good, make you cum again and again. Just-just let me touch you. Let me show you.”

You stayed quiet, trying to remember how to breathe. He was playing all the angles—appealing to your conscience and your libido. The second strategy was harder to ignore.

“Come here and feel how hard I am for you.”

Fuck.

His voice was pure sin, purring and growling for you. He was fucking luring you in with it. He said your name one more time, and your resolve cracked a little.

You looked up at him, setting your phone down beside you.

“Yes, that’s it, baby. Come over here.”

Against all odds, you stayed seated.

“Come make me feel good, and I’ll make you feel good.”

There was no way you could just sit and listen to this forever, so you made a decision. You shot to your feet.

“Yes, sweet girl, that’s right. I knew you’d do the right thing—always so good to me. Let me down from here, and I’ll take my time with you, show you all the things I’ve imagined doing to your body.”

Sweet fucking hell.

“I’m going to make you cum on my tongue so hard it hurts, and then I’m going to kiss it better.”

He was going to kill you.

You turned abruptly and walked to the door, placing your hand on the security panel .

“NO! Fuck—don’t do this,” he raged behind you. You could hear the squeak of the links shifting against each other as he heaved himself forward.

Steeling yourself, you tipe the code to unlock the door . The only way for you to survive this was to lock yourself in your room , far away from the temptation of his damn voice.

Loki roared and thrashed behind you.

You were halfway out when you heard it—an angry metallic whine and the pattering of several small objects hitting the floor. You whipped your head around and watched as the durasteel panel that his right wrist restraint was fastened to began to peel away from the framework, several of the bolts already missing.

The piercing sound seemed to jolt Loki out of his drugged haze. When you turn back in and faced him, you could tell that he was himself again. He stepped back against the wall, putting as much distance as he could between the two of you.

When he spoke, his voice had returned to its normal register and cadence, all business. “Fuck—fuck, you have to drug me. You have to.”

Your jaw dropped: “Drug you?? More?”

Words poured out of his mouth, desperate and rushed: “In the med kit,” he pointed, “there’s a shot—PLEASE, sedate me now. It’ll knock me out for a couple hours while the worst of this works through my system. Otherwise, these chains won’t hold. Please, just fucking do it—there’s nowhere that you can hide from me if I get out of these.”

When you didn’t move right away, he bellowed: “DO IT NOW.”

You scrambled over to the medkit, whipping it open and digging around.

“PROMISE ME—promise me you’ll do it, no matter what I say to you. Promise me right now that you’ll do it! Please.”

You looked up at him, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “I will, I promise, Lo.”

His shoulders slumped in relief.

You rooted around, moving past several other items—you took note of an intravenous hydration pouch and filed that information away for later—until you located the appropriate syringe of sedative.

As soon as you turned and approached Loki, you could tell he was lost again. He flipped so fast that if you’d blinked, you might have missed the subtle shift in his body language.

When you were just a few feet away from him, he threw out a palm—this time, not to reach for you, but to halt your advance.

First, he tried appealing to your reason.

“No, no, darling, don’t. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. What if there’s an interaction between the drugs? Could be dangerous. There’s no way to know.”

It almost worked for a second.

You took another step toward him.

Next, he tried bargaining.

“How can I hurt you when I’m chained up like this? The rest of these will hold, I know they will. And it won’t matter anyways; I won’t need the restraints at all if you just help me—if-if you give me what I need.”

You looked away from him, training your gaze on the floor again. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. I was wrong before; it’s-it’s getting better. I can control myself now. I just need you, and everything will be okay. I’ll be—I’ll be gentle with you, so gentle, I promise.”

You forced out one word: “No.”

He didn’t say anything for a long, drawn-out moment. The tension was so thick that against your better judgment, you looked up again. He looked so anguished, so distressed… shoulders tense and fists clenched. You felt bad for him.

Finally, he tried straight-up seduction.

“Please—just, fuck—I need to fuck you. Your cunt, your mouth, let me fuck you. You can have me however you want me, love.”

All of a sudden, your thoughts were hazy, slow like molasses. You were stuck on the fact that he’d called you love.

“I think about fucking you right here on the floor, bending you over and lick your perfect pussy until you cry for me. I always wonder what you’ll sound like when you’re taking my cock.”

You were trying to block out his words, to ignore the honey dripping from his lips. You just—you just wanted a taste.

“I have to know how you taste.”

So did he, apparently. You clenched your thighs. Fuck, you just wanted him to keep talking.

“I think you’ll make the sweetest fucking sounds when I make you cum—I’ve imagined it. I think you’ll whine for me—but I bet I can make you scream too.”

He’d wanted you, too—all this time.

All this time, you’d both been lusting after each other, separated by nothing more than the wall that stands between your rooms and a healthy dose of doubt.

“I just need to cum, and then this will all be better. I know it. The drug will leave my system. Don’t you want to help me?”

You did want to help him.

Your eyes wandered down his body, and your brain short-circuited when you saw the outline of his aching cock pressing against the fabric of his trousers . It made your mouth water.

You wanted him. He wanted you. Why overthink it?

He could tell that it was working, that you were considering his words, so he continued cautiously, bargaining with you: “You don’t even have to unchain me. Just get down on your knees for me, like a good girl.”

Now THAT made you hesitate, made you stop in your metaphorical and physical tracks—but only because it sent a jolt of pure arousal down your spine, electricity igniting every goddamn nerve in your body so fast and intense it almost hurt.

“Don’t you want to open that mouth for me and suck my cock, pretty baby?”

As if on command, your jaw fell open, tongue darting out to lick your parted lips, and you took another step forward.

Oh, shit.

You did want to. You really fucking did. You wanted to get on your knees for him. You wanted to suck his cock and have him tell you how good you looked doing it. You were aching to hear his praise, to taste him, to make him feel good. He deserved relief.

And so did you.

You wouldn’t even have to unchain him. It would be fine. You’d be safe, and he would feel better.

You took another step.

You were close to him now—you didn’t realize you’d crept this close—almost within his reach.

Loki started talking again, capitalizing on this progress: “Gods, I’ve thought about your sweet mouth, those soft lips, wrapped around my cock, taking me down your throat so well. I think about it every fucking night when I fuck my fist. You’d look so good down on your knees for me,kærasta.”

You watched as he got caught up in his own fantasy, mumbling on and on about every sinful thought he’d ever had about your mouth. You could tell his eyes were closed , his head tipped back in bliss. Gradually, he started bucking his hips forward, like he could actually feel your lips around him, like he was chasing a phantom sensation. He was so completely absorbed in the picture he was painting, so drunk on the potential that for a second, he’d forgotten the literal hell he was currently in.

“Sometimes I can’t even focus when you talk to me because I’m just thinking about how your tongue would feel on the tip of my cock, licking me, sucking… so wet and warm, taking me deep like the good fucking girl you are, letting me fuck your mouth, until I’m cumming down your throat and you’re swallowing for me—swallowing everything I have to give you.”

Fuck, the picture he was painting was enticing you just as much as it was enticing him. It was a picture you’d had in your own head for months, one that you’d made yourself cum to so many times you’d lost count.

Before you could stop yourself, you took that final step toward him and extended your hand. You grazed your fingers over the bulge in his pants, and he was jolted out of his waking dream by your unexpected touch, snapping his head down to watch your fingers stroke him.

He choked on nothing. “Please, baby, please.” He was begging now, but his voice wasn’t soft or pleading like it had been when he was asking you to chain him up. Now, it was furious, demanding, and desperate.

He needed this.

Fuck, who were you kidding? You needed this.

You cupped him, pressing against his erection more firmly, and his hips pressed back, chasing that delicious friction. Your aching cunt clenched around nothing when you registered just how big his cock was under your hand.

You were so close to unbuckling his belt, to unzipping his pants. So fucking close. But a whisper of guilt in the back of your mind made you hesitate. The weight of the syringe in your left fist was an insistent reminder : you’d promised him—sane, right-in-his-mind Loki. You’d promised that Loki that you wouldn’t give in.

Fuck.

You stilled your hand.

Loki’s eyes snapped up, meeting your eyes, and tension pulled taut between you. You were both frozen, paralyzed—you by indecision and he by fury.

The seconds stretched on.

He broke first.

He ripped his right arm forward as hard as he possibly could, and with a furious squeal, the metal panel—the loose one you’d completely forgotten about—started to bend away from the wall even more, exposing a complicated mess of wires and pipes underneath. You watched as two more bolts popped out of place and clattered to the floor somewhere behind you. It was almost fully separated from the wall now; three remaining bolts along the bottom edge struggled to keep it in place against Loki’s brutal strength.

The screeching sound shocked you—dragging you forcefully back to reality—and you yanked your hand away from him, but at the same time, Loki’s heavy hand landed on your shoulder. He was finally able to reach you given the newfound slack in his restraint, and his fingers dug into your flesh, wrenching you forward.

He knocked his head against your forehead, holding you there with an iron grip.

Ouch.

You were so close to him that you could hear the words before and after they hit : “I know you want it. Take it. Take what you need, baby. It’s yours.”

Every breath ripping from his lungs was harsh and labored, his chest heaving. You could feel the rage and pure need radiating off of him in waves. His left fist was clenched so tightly around the chain that the skin around creaked.

“I can’t, Lo,” you said, stern but apologetic.

The energy in the room shifted abruptly at your refusal, and you had the good sense to pull away from him just seconds before Loki reared back and launched himself forward, throwing his whole body toward you, only to be yanked back by the restraints. Those three bolts, the last hope of keeping him fully restrained, squeaked ominously as he jerked his limbs as hard as he could, the chains fully extended. He was snatching at the air a few inches from your chest…. reaching, reaching for you

And you were stuck, frozen in place, watching his fingers hovering in front of you.

In a terrifying voice you didn’t even recognize, he roared: “GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES.”

Oh, he was truly lost. He was beyond recognition, beyond bargaining or soothing. He was enraged, throbbing with need. There was only one course of action now.

Another bolt clattered to the floor.

You dropped to your knees, careful to stay close to the ground and out of his reach as you crawled forward. You were trying so, so hard to not be distracted by the obvious strain of his thick cock against his pants, but now it was directly in front of your fucking face.

He pointed an accusing finger down at the syringe clutched in your left hand. “Don’t. Don’t. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.”

You ignored him, the needle poised over the lower part of his thigh. The next few moments played out in slow motion.

Loki bellowed: “NO!”

He ripped his arm forward again, and the metal panel whined, bending forward even more. Another bolt popped off, skittering across the floor and landing by your feet.

One. One single bolt remained in place.

And his right hand was suspended only a few inches above where you were crouched close to the ground.

Lightning fast, you jabbed the needle into his thigh and emptied it in a matter of seconds. He roared in anger, thrashing against the chains, trying to snatch at your hand. When the entirety of the drug had been injected, you ripped it away and scrambled backwards, getting to your feet. Loki struggled and shuddered for a moment, growling all the while, wrenching his arm farther and farther forward—the metal panel screaming as it bent—centimeter by centimeter.

It was too late—you’d waited too long, and he was going to rip it clean off the wall before the drug hit him.

You reached back blindly, relief spreading through you when your hand landed on Loki’s dagger . You took it and kept it in your hand waiting for the worst to come .

Your finger hovered over the edge of the blade , waiting and hoping .

Loki’s movements were suddenly slower, weaker, less coordinated. You placed the dagger in your pocket and let out a breath of relief as the drug finally seemed to take hold. He took a faltering step backward, and his shoulders hit the wall with a hollow clang. He slurred something incoherent at you, and thankfully, finally… finally, he stilled, head sagging forward drunkenly, arms going slack. He slouched against the wall, knees giving out as he slid to the floor, arms extended up and to the sides by the restraints—the right much lower than the left—and his bent knees slightly splayed.

The position couldn’t be comfortable for him, but you were too scared to adjust his restraints—worried that so much movement would likely rouse him.

You waited a good twenty minutes—pacing back and forth as quietly as possible—finalizing the details of an idea in your head. You waited until you were totally sure he was knocked out before you approached him again. First, you opened his collar and placed it in the middle of the floor—out of his reach, but in a position that you’d be able to grab it if needed. Then, you retrieved the hydration bag you’d noted earlier and your sharpest knife. With those supplies in hand, you tiptoed forward. You squatted on Loki’s left side, gripped his bicep lightly… and waited. When he didn’t move, you continued. You held your breath as you carefully, so carefully to avoid nicking his skin, cut a generous hole in his suit at his elbow.

Hopefully he wouldn’t mind that you were sort of butchering his favorite outfit—you’d offer to sew it later.

As hard as you tried not to, the movement jostled the chains, and they clanked and rattled. It was a quiet sound, but it felt so kriffing loud in the oppressive silence. Loki’s breath hitched slightly, disrupting the deep, regular rhythm of his sleep. His fingers twitched. You froze, then slowly set down your blade and started reaching back for his collar.

To your immense relief, before you could wrap your hand around the metal collar, his breathing returned to normal—slow and steady.

You returned to your task, clipping the IV bag to a pipe on the wall above his slumped shoulder and cleaning the skin over the bulging vein visible through the soft flesh of his inner elbow. He didn’t react to the cold alcohol wipe, but he did jerk violently when you pressed the tip of the needle into his skin. You tensed, ready to drop everything and back away if you needed to, but he stilled again, muscles relaxing. You pressed the needle far enough into his vein and taped it in place. You double-checked that the drip was working, then backed away slowly, taking your blade and the phone with you.

You waited like that, leaned against the opposite wall of the room, collar never out of reach. You were unwilling to let him out of your sight, so you remained there, tense and waiting. When the IV bag was empty, you scurried forward and peeled back the tape on his arm—painfully slowly—and eased the needle out before you scrambled back to your spot.

Over two hours after he had passed out, he stirred, head lifting slowly.

“Lo?”

He looked around for a moment, studying his surroundings. He gripped the chains in his fists and attempted to pull himself up, faltering slightly before he eventually succeeded by bracing his back against the wall. He looked slightly unsteady on his feet. His eyes found your face across the hull, and he rasped your name.

“How do you feel?”

His voice was dry and croaky. “Better… I feel better. Normal.”

“Good.”

He stood there, relaxed, getting his bearings. All the rage and tension had left his body. He looked like himself again.

“How long has it been?”

“Since I knocked you out? About two hours.”

He cocked his head. “I thought the drug would have lasted longer.”

“I gave you fluids to flush it out of your system faster,” you explained, tapping the inside of your own elbow to demonstrate.

He looked down at his cut up shirt.

“Good thinking,” he nodded.

“Yeah, and thank fucking God it worked,” you laughed. “You started to get scary there at the end.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, hanging his head in shame.

“Do you remember anything?”

He looked up at you. “I remember everything.” Then, glancing up at the bent panel above his right shoulder, he continued, “I’m sorry, darling. I would never have forgiven myself if I hurt you.”

You noted the use of a pet name, wondering if this new habit of his would persist. You hoped it would.

You gave him a sympathetic look, shaking your head. “You weren’t yourself. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He nodded. “Still—I’m sorry. But, you can unchain me. It’s safe now. I promise.”

You stayed where you were.

He seemed normal again, but you’d witnessed just how persuasive drugged Loki could be.

Luckily, he could read your hesitation. “It’s okay,” he reassured you. “I understand. Let’s give it some more time. I want you to feel safe.”

He leaned back against the wall and started sliding down to his seated position.

His sudden patience was all the confirmation you needed.

“I believe you.”

He flicked his head back up to look at you and straightened, watching you as you took a few steps toward him.

“Did you mean what you said?”

He quirked his head at you. “About what?”

You wavered for a second, doubt creeping into your mind. What if it really was the drug talking the whole time? What if he only said all those things because he was out of his mind, desperate to fuck anyone… and you just happened to be in front of him?

You steeled yourself. The only way to know was to ask: “That you want me? That you’ve always wanted me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“It wasn’t just the drug talking?”

He scoffed: “No, it wasn’t.”

A mixture of relief and want settled in your belly. And you could finally have what you wanted.

You approached him slowly. When you were standing directly in front of him, instead of reaching for his restraints, you hooked your fingers in his belt. Loki watched your movements, his arms straining forward slightly.

“What are y—”

He choked on his words when you started to unbuckle his belt. He moaned when you unzipped his trousers and pulled out his aching cock. It was still red and leaking, throbbing with need in your hand. His mind might have been clear, and he might have been in control of himself now, but the physical effects of the drug had clearly not worn off fully.

You looked up at him through your lashes and licked your lips suggestively, then flicked your eyes back down to his cock in your hand.

Loki’s head dropped back against the wall with a hollow clank. “Oh shit, oh fuck, yes p-please, baby, please—”

Before he could finish his stuttering request, you sank to your knees and took him as far into your mouth as you possibly could. He let out a broken moan when he slipped past your lips, canting his hips forward to chase the welcoming heat of your mouth. He was big, and you had to wrap your hand around the base of his cock to cover the length that wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He shuddered above you, tilting his head down to watch you. You paused there, holding him, hot and heavy on your tongue. You waited a long moment, taking advantage of the fact that he was totally at your mercy. The longer you waited, the more he fidgeted, hips inching forward, cock twitching impatiently.

“I—”

When he started to speak, you interrupted him by giving him exactly what he wanted, hollowing your cheeks around him and sucking hard. You thought back to what he’d said to you, replaying all those things he’d imagined you doing to him. You pulled back to circle your tongue along the head of his leaking cock and flicked it along his slit, working the rest of him with your slick hand.

While you bobbed up and down on him, your other hand wandered up his thigh and rucked his pants lower, easing his balls free. You massaged them, manipulating them between your fingers, and Loki’s head lolled back again, his head clunking dully against the wall. His knees buckled slightly, the chains connected to his wrists pulling taut as he gripped them. In the space where you had cut his shirt away, you could see his muscles rippling, the veins swelling under his pale skin as he flexed.

Taking him in your mouth had you aching for him, clenching your thighs together to try and relieve the growing tension. Losing patience, you released his balls and snaked that hand under your own waistband to press down on your swollen clit and whined around his thick cock.

Loki snapped his head down at the needy sound. His eyes followed your movement, and he gritted out, “Shit, does this turn you on, sucking my cock like this? Are you wet for me?”

You hummed around his cock and ran your fingers through your wet folds then extracted your hand from your pants, reaching up to drag your glistening fingertips over Loki’s knuckles where his fist was clenched around the chains.

“Fuuhhh-ckkk, I can’t wait to taste you, to feel how wet you are.”

With that same hand, you reached down and unzipped your pants. Loki let out an inarticulate string of syllables above you as he watched you tug your pants and panties halfway down your thighs with one hand. You let him slip from your mouth for a moment—working him over with long, tight strokes of your slippery hand in the meantime—to say, “Keep talking, tell me how you’re going to fuck me, Lo .”

You took him back into your mouth, and as you rubbed tight circles over your clit, he started rambling on about all the things he wanted to do to you, all the ways he wanted to explore your body: “F-fuck yes, I want to taste your pussy, I want to watch you finger yourself just like this until you’re dripping then-then let me lick your fingers clean—”

You whined around his girth; your body was responding to his words, the tension coiling tight and hot in your core. Your knees slid apart slightly on the slippery floor. They were going to be bruised blue and purple tomorrow. Worth it.

“Th-then I want to put a blindfold on you and-and lick your clit until you cum on my tongue. Yeah—oh shit, baby, yes, just like that, hnghhh—then, then I want to fuck you from behind, hard and deep, until you’re soaking my co—”

You moaned shamelessly, the sound vibrating deep in your throat, and he choked above you.

“Are-are you going to make yourself cum with my cock in your mouth?”

His eyes were glued to your face, the chain resting on his chestplate, as he angled his head down to watch you. You nodded slightly, eyes wide and desperate, pupils blown with lust, as you did your best to keep up your steady pace on his cock while you were simultaneously falling apart yourself. As the tension in your body built, your mouth and hand faltered on him, losing their rhythm, and your ministrations were suddenly stunted and irregular.

“Gods, you’re so perfect—use both hands on yourself, put-put your—”

You had all but stopped moving everything but the hand between your legs, eyes falling closed as you focused completely on your own impending orgasm. Following his directions, you dropped the hand on his cock down to your cunt, spreading your thighs more to push two fingers inside yourself. You let out another muffled noise, and you could tell that he loved the sounds you made with his cock stuffed in your mouth by the way his hips bucked forward.

One of your hands worked over the stiff peak of your clit, the other thrusting your fingers in and out of you, and that feeling—that delicious, fucking fantastic tension that had been building since the moment Loki had said he wanted to fuck you hours ago—threatened to snap.

“K-keep it in your mouth, just like that and make yourself cum—you’re close, I can tell you’re close—shit, fucking shit—”

He was throbbing on your tongue, pulsing with need. In the absence of the slick sounds of your mouth and hand working over his length, you could hear the sound of your own wetness as your fingers moved in and out of your dripping cunt.

“That’s right, pretty baby, cum with my cock in your mouth—fuck, I can hear how wet you are—look-look up at me—”

You opened your eyes and looked up at him just as your cunt tightened around your fingers. You let out a muffled wail around his girthy length as you came, and he groaned low and deep as he pressed his hips forward to keep himself buried in your mouth.

You slowed your hands to a still as the final reverberations of your pleasure waned, your moan fading to a quiet whimper. You pulled off Loki’s cock with a slick pop to take a deep, shuddering breath.

“Now you’re going to cum in my mouth.”

“Fuuckk—”

You gripped the base of his hard, leaking cock and wrapped your lips around him once more.

Right away, he started thrusting into your mouth, his knees buckling, most of his weight suspended on the chains gripped in his hands.

“C-close—”

His voice cut out, words replaced by feral moans and grunts, as he bucked into you.

You hummed around him, running your free hand up his quad, hooking it around the back of his leg to hold him in place against you. You could feel the way his muscles strained and clenched under your palm as his body grew taut.

“I’m—hnngh—”

He came with a hoarse shout that quickly got so loud that his voice cracked and gave out completely. And when you thought he was done, he was somehow still cumming, spilling hot and salty down your throat. You swallowed around him, taking everything he had to give you, until he stilled and you let him slip out of your mouth.

You pulled your pants up loosely around your hips and stood in front of him, swiping your knuckles across your glistening bottom lip.

Loki caught his breath and straightened, using the chains to pull himself up. That yank on his arm restraints proved to be the final straw for that solitary remaining bolt. You both whipped your heads up when—with a defeated whine—that piece of durasteel was ripped away, skidded down the wall, and crashed to the floor.

You looked at each other at the same time.

“So… how do you want me first?”

“Unchain me, and I’ll show you.”

***

[sarahscribbles]

saz i am the FIRMEST of believers that loki’s into cock warming, especially when he comes home from a long mission or gruesome battle literally all he wants is to be nestled inside you for hours 😌

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐦 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟔𝐤

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The endless sky stretching beyond the Allmother’s library is a vibrant swirl of scarlet and amber when you hear the clatter of a dozen hooves in the courtyard below. Over the excited braying of horses you hear the calls of Einherjar for stable hands and body servants, and the book in your lap quickly tumbles to the floor with a thump as you rush towards the window in a flurry of skirts. 

The sudden disturbance in the quiet of the evening can only mean that the campaign is over and the princes are home.

Loki is home.

You reach the window just as he swings a long leg over his horse and drops elegantly to the ground, looking every inch the warrior in leather and metal. The last dying rays of sun catch the small golden band around his finger and the breeze tousles his perfectly styled hair, but he barely appears to notice because his attention is already fully focused on something else. 

You, standing at the library window. 

He found you within five minutes of arriving back home. Always, your husband will find you, as though some invisible string connects his heart to yours. 

The smile that curls across his lips when he catches your eye is both devilish and devastating, as is the wink he offers you as his horse is taken away.

A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in your stomach and your fingers curl tighter around the pillar they rest on. Six weeks he’s been gone - one of the longest campaigns of your marriage - and it’s taking everything in you not to run through the palace and have him right there in the courtyard.

Perhaps more than once. 

His bright eyes linger longingly on you until he disappears beneath the window ledge and into the Palace. From the floor below, you hear the gentle buzz of conversation and revelry as the warriors recount their journey to victory for anyone who will listen. You hear the distinct sound of Thor’s war cry; the hearty cheers of The Warriors Three; the joyous clanging of swords in celebration…

You hear the familiar deep roll of laughter that you would recognise anywhere.

The sound of your husband’s mirth, his uncontained joy, makes you giddy with excitement, the likes of which you haven’t experienced since you first started courting him or the first time you got to taste his kiss. You’ve missed him - missed the warmth of his embraces, the softness of his lips, the easy way he can make you laugh without even trying.

You’ve missed your best friend.

Forgetting all about the book you’ve left lying, pages akimbo, on the floor, you rush from the library on quick, quiet feet to race your husband to your chambers. You know it will be his first port of call, as it always is after any length of time you spend apart, and the thought alone is enough to make you fizzle wildly with anticipation. 

Will he take his time worshiping your body? Will those large, gentle hands spend hours refamiliarising themselves with every dip and curve? Will his lips lavish attention on you until not an inch of you has been left unkissed? 

Or, will he back you against the chamber wall and hoist your skirts around your hips? Will he rip your bodice from your body and roughly have his way with you? Will he make you orgasm again and again until you go limp in his arms? 

Perhaps both if you’re lucky. 

Perhaps this reunion will be similar to the last when neither of you were seen outside your chambers for three days; one day of pleasure for each battle the Asgardians had won, so your husband had promised. 

And delivered on. 

The late evening air tingles with his magic as you pass along the Palace hallways. He’s closer than you had initially believed, but when you finally approach the ornate double doors of your chambers, only the two Einhenjar stand outside. 

You breeze quickly past them with a brief nod, stepping straight into the empty living area of your chambers. There’s nothing to suggest that Loki is anywhere within or lurking in the rooms beyond, so you haltingly let your guard down. 

Beyond the walls of your chamber, you hear the merry sounds of the warriors making their way to Odin in the heart of the Palace to boast of their victory. They pass by in a raucous cacophony of cheers and shouts - still loudly retelling the events of each battle to their eager audience of courtiers - and you prepare for your husband to come striding through the doors energised by victory.

But they remain firmly closed.

Your brow furrows at the same time a knot of disappointment twists in your stomach. Loki’s letters from the battlefield had been dripping with innuendo and filthy promises of how he planned to ravish you upon his return - some so salacious that you’d had to lock the doors to your bedchamber early in the afternoon. 

Surely, after so many promises of debauchery, he wouldn’t choose an audience with Odin over you. 

The sounds of Thor and his fellow warriors become increasingly more faint and still there’s no sign of Loki. You wait another minute and then start towards the doors, but you’ve barely taken three steps when a familiar pair of arms wrap around your middle so suddenly that you yelp in surprise. 

“I caught you, my little mouse.” Loki’s soft voice purrs in your ear, and you feel his warm lips press a lingering kiss to your cheek. 

You pretend to huff, but it’s impossible to stop the smile that spreads across your face at being back in your husband’s embrace. “How do you always manage to do that?”

His answering laughter makes your heart swell. How had you survived six whole weeks without him? 

Loki places one last kiss to your temple and twirls you around in his arms. You’re flush against his chest and the familiar feeling of safety washes warmly over you. “Do you forget to whom you are married, dove?” he teases, eyes twinkling as he gazes at you. 

“As if such a thing is even possible!” you reply, teasing him just as easily.

“Little vixen,” he murmurs, and pulls you tighter against his chest. “Did you miss me?” 

Briefly, you consider teasing him a little more, but something in his eyes makes you reconsider. Reflected in them clear as day is how deeply he missed you and how desperately he needs to hear you say that you noticed his absence. 

“Like one would miss a limb,” you say softly and twist your arms around his shoulders.

Loki smiles and dips his head to kiss you gently. It’s sweet and innocent yet it still awakens six weeks of need within you. Your fingers curl greedily into his hair as you pull him to you, silently begging him for more, but you only feel him bite your lower lip and pull back. 

“Don’t you wish to go and congratulate Thor and the others? I’m sure they would relish the praise of their Princess,” he says, his pretty green eyes dancing with mischief at your pout. 

“The only thing I wish to do is spend the next few hours welcoming my husband home,” you reply.

The very thought has a throbbing ache begin between your thighs. You picture tousled bed sheets and your husband's firm body writhing and flexing beneath your hungry fingers. You want to spend hours losing yourself to the feel of him and clutch him to you like a life raft as he makes Valhalla dance behind your eyes.

You want to enjoy your husband. 

Loki squeezes your hips. “You know there’s nothing in the Nine that I can deny you, darling.”

Before you can draw breath to reply, he’s easily tossing you over one shoulder and carrying you towards your bedroom. Your shrieks of laughter ring through the chamber. After six weeks, your heart is full again, swelling with love for the man who’s rushed straight home to you and is kicking the doors to your room closed with a satisfying bang. You wait for the inevitable feeling of soaring through air as he tosses you onto the bed, but seconds pass and you’re still draped over his shoulder. 

“Are we feeling sentimental this evening?” you question, only half teasing. 

By now, you had expected to be stripped and possibly restrained to the bed, but your husband appears to be in no rush to have his way with you. 

“Possibly,” Loki answers, lightly tapping your ass. 

He sets you down gently on your feet, then takes both your hands in his to raise them to his lips. They’re warm as they kiss the backs of your knuckles and his sparkling green eyes never once leave yours. 

“Undress me, darling,” he whispers softly and releases your hands.

He’s already stepped out of his heavy outer armour, likely as soon as he stepped inside the palace, leaving him in the casual, soft leather that you know all too well. Your practiced hands reach out easily to push the long overcoat off his broad shoulders, and it falls to the stone floor with a quiet thump.

The rest of his clothing is quick to follow. It’s beautifully intimate, undressing him - revealing him piece by piece so you can marvel at this beautiful man who wears your ring on his finger. You reach out to lightly trace the scars on his abdomen that weren’t there last time, scars that you’ll kiss over and over while he falls asleep in your arms later. 

“I’m fine,” Loki whispers, reading your thoughts while your fingers continue to dance over his skin. 

Your eyes dart to his, searching for any tiny flick of untruth. The god of lies he may be, but he can hide nothing from you. 

“I promise, dove.” He continues, letting his hands fall to rest on your hips. “I’ll recount the story of every new scar for you if I must.” 

Your own hands find his on your hips to pull them to the fastenings of your gown. “I insist on it, my prince,” you say with a smirk. 

Loki rolls his eyes, but the smile he gives you is nothing short of adoring. “As you wish,” he says, and begins to trail a single finger along the bodice of your gown. 

In a pale shimmer of green the fabric disappears before you, melting to nothing until you’re finally bare before him. His eyes drink you in - heavy with six weeks of pent up desire - and you can’t fight the shiver when he reaches in to suck a bruise to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, placing a kiss over your bruising skin. “Ethereal.” He adds, sliding his hands around your waist and letting them run along your lower back to squeeze your ass. 

“Mine,” he says more forcefully, placing a firm kiss to your lips at the same time his hands lock around your knees. 

You squeal against his lips as he hoists you into his arms, but easily lock your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck. You feel the shift of his body as he climbs onto the bed, but instead of being laid back amongst the generous piles of pillows as you expected, Loki positions himself back against the intricate headboard with you still straddling his lap. 

“How I missed you, my darling wife,” he says quietly when his lips leave yours, and then he’s coaxing you onto your knees before him. 

Loki takes your hand in his and guides it towards his cock, wrapping your fingers around it with a contented sigh. You know what he’s asking without him having to say a word. 

Slowly, you begin to stroke him, watching his eyes flicker closed when you increase the pressure. “Did you miss me? Or did you miss this?” you tease him. 

“How unfair of you to make me choose,” he replies instantly. 

You squeeze his cock with a smirk, not missing the quiet groan that floats from him or the slight curl of his upper lip. 

“Oh, that might cost you later, dove,” he says. It’s meant to be a warning, you know, but it only makes your core burn for him. 

“Perhaps that’s what I’m counting on,” you quip back quickly, which makes the god in your bed chuckle softly. 

His cock grows beneath your touch, which only makes a surge of power shoot straight to your head. You begin to stroke him faster and apply just the barest hint of pressure, but a large hand quickly reaches out to still yours. 

“Am I…,” you begin, but trail off when you glance towards him. 

Loki’s eyes are alight and dancing with the promise of mischief. Without a word, he edges you forward on the bed until your aching cunt is directly above his cock. You clench desperately at what you know is coming and it feels like an eternity until Loki is coaxing you down and the head of his cock is brushing teasingly against you. 

He maddingly drags himself through your soaked cunt again and again, pulling groan after groan from deep in your chest. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his shoulder, leaving a pattern of tiny half moons in their wake as you fix him with pleading eyes. 

“Fuck, Loki. Please, put it in,” you beg, needing to feel your husband fill you after six long weeks apart. 

Loki grins back mischievously. “As my love commands.” 

Slowly, he eases his cock inside you, making you take him inch by inch until you can take no more of him. He hisses at the feel of your cunt clenching wildly around him, and you’re rewarded with a stream of moans and curses until you’re fully seated on him. 

A hand closes quickly around the base of your skull to pull you in for another blistering kiss that’s lazy and wondrously sloppy. “I missed this tight little cunt,” he rasps into your ear with a roll of his hips. 

“Fuck,” you curse softly and let your head fall to his shoulder. 

He feels so blindingly good inside you that all you want to do is ride him until he can’t remember his own name, but when your hips begin to rock against his, Loki plants two strong hands on them to hold you still. 

“Ah, ah, darling. This is more than enough for now,” he says lightly. 

Not fully believing what you heard, you pull back to peer at him. “What? Loki, it’s been six -.” 

“Shhh, dove. I thought you insisted on hearing all about our time away?” he replies. 

“Yes, but not now! There will be plenty of time for you to tell me after!” You try not to whine. There had been three battles in all, and Loki had promised to tell you about all of them in detail. 

Your husband shifts beneath you, making you whimper when his cock does the same. “Perhaps, but, for now, I wish to have my darling wife warm my cock as I tell her about our victories. Would you deny me that?”

He knows that he has you. You can’t deny this man anything, even if it means spending a tortuous evening with his cock inside you. 

“No,” you reply, fighting to keep from pouting. 

Loki pulls you in for another quick kiss. “Good girl,” he says and gives another teasing roll of his hips. “If you can continue being good and not try to pleasure yourself all evening, then I will personally see to it that you don’t walk properly for the next week.”

[simplyholl]

The Bet

Summary: Loki has an interesting punishment when you lose a bet.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Vibrating panties.

A/N: Inspired by that scene in The Ugly Truth.

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“You can’t be serious.” You take the garment from Loki, wishing you could smack the smirk off his face. “You lost the game. So you have to wear them.” He explains, crossing his arms as he leans against your doorway.

“I’ve never lost a game of Uno in my life. You were cheating.” You exaggerate, trying to talk your way out of it. “Put them on. I’ll know if you don’t.” He walks away, leaving you alone.

You and Loki were always competitive with each other, placing stupid bets on frivolous games. Two days ago, you were playing Uno when Loki wanted to make the game interesting. You had beaten him three times already, so you thought you had it in the bag.

If you win Loki had to spend an entire day doing your chores naked. He hated menial tasks, oftentimes he would pay someone else to do his cleaning and laundry. So you knew he would hate it. As for the naked part, you had eyes. You might not get along all the time, but Loki was beautiful.

You had let your dishes pile up, your laundry basket was overflowing, your floors were sticky. You had been busy with missions and Nick Fury made you attend meetings all week so you were behind.

Loki smirked when you told him what you wanted if you won. “If you want to see me naked, you only have to ask.” The devilish smile that accompanied his quip made your skin heat up from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

“If I win, you will wear the clothing of my choosing to the meeting on Friday.” You accepted, he would probably make you wear a burlap sack or a silly costume. You weren’t easily embarrassed, so whatever he picked wouldn’t be an issue. Fury would be mad with your theatrics, but you had been doing his bidding all week. He owed you.

The game had been going well. You had three draw four cards in your possession, using them strategically. Then the unthinkable happened. Loki won, placing a red card with a number two on top of your card. He had to have cheated somehow. He didn’t even know how to play until a few days prior when Steve taught him.

With only seconds to spare, you slid your panties down your legs replacing them with the pair Loki gave you. They were black and lacy. You were a little unsure why he wanted you to wear these specific panties. He had to be up to something. He wasn’t the God of Mischief for nothing.

You put them on, feeling something hard under the fabric. You straighten your sun dress and fluff your hair. You look at your phone, you were already late. You didn’t have time to take them off and inspect them. You weren’t a sore loser either, so you would wear them to the meeting.

You rushed down the hall to the elevator. You get on with three others, from their white coats you could tell they worked in the labs. You waited impatiently as the elevator stopped on the tenth floor letting them off. You were five minutes late now. You dreaded whatever smart ass remark Fury would have for you.

Finally, the elevator stopped on the sixth floor. You rushed out, running down the hall to the conference room. Fury stopped speaking to turn and greet you. “It’s about damn time.” He said, returning his attention to the smart board behind him.

You looked around the table for Natasha. She always saved a seat for you. But on her left sat Thor and Loki was on her right. The only empty seat was beside him. You curse him in your head as you walk around the table to take your seat. You wonder how he got Thor to switch from his usual seat beside Steve.

Fury starts talking again, calling on Tony to explain some new technology he was working on for all of you. You try to hide your yawn behind your hand. This stuff was always so boring. Why did you have to be here while they discussed how cool they thought this was?

You try to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, afraid you would fall asleep. A small vibration from your panties knocked the tiredness right out of you. It caught you off guard, but it was tolerable. You turn your head to look at Loki who is staring straight ahead, completely focused on Fury.

That little shit. You wouldn’t let him get the best of you, so you raised your hand asking a question and pretending you couldn’t feel yourself growing wetter. You sneak another glance at him, his prominent nose scrunching as he keeps his eyes forward. The vibration speeds up once, twice, three times. You ball your hands into fists, nails digging into your palm.

The device rolls in waves against you, brushing your clit. You bite your lip until you taste blood to keep from making a sound. It hums rhythmically, each pulse bringing you closer to orgasm. You can’t hear what Bruce says when he stands to pass out folders filled with the layout of Tony’s design.

He hands it to you, expecting you to take it from him. But you can’t, one hand is wrapped around the side of your chair, the other is clawing at Loki’s leg silently pleading with him to stop this madness. When you don’t reach for the folder, Bruce looks you over, taking in your frazzled appearance and the bead of sweat sliding down your neck. He mouths “You okay?” You nod a little too quickly and he sets the folder in front of you.

Loki opened your folder, bringing out the page Fury was discussing. His gaze lingers on your face for a second, and you think he’s finally satisfied and going to turn it off. The glimmer of mischief shines in his eyes as he returns his full attention to Fury. It takes every ounce of concentration you have to not yell in frustration. Then you realize his momentary kindness was only to distract you.

The vibration hits its peak, and you lose control. Your fist slams on the table. All eyes are on you. “Do you have something you’d like to add?” Fury asks, assuming your interruption was about the stupid technology you had no idea about. The ripples flutter against your clit, your lower stomach clenching with the onset of orgasm.

“Yes!” You stand up surprising yourself and Loki who lifts a brow. You can’t think clearly so you hope walking will help. You pace the area behind Natasha, every lift of your leg moves your panties, causing the vibe to reach new angles. “I love this! I love it! I lo-ove it!” Your voice raises a few octaves. Tony smiles, excited someone is showing interest in his hard work besides Bruce and Fury.

“This is the kind of enthusiasm I expect from the rest of you.” He says pointing an accusing finger at the others. “What do you love about it?” He prompts you. You stop behind Loki’s chair, he turns to watch the show you were putting on. You clutch the top of his chair, as the vibration sends you over the edge.

“It’s the best! God, the best!” You look in Loki’s eyes as your legs tremble. “Oh fuck! It’s incredible!” Tony is beaming, hands coming together to clap. “Thank you! This is the kind of reaction I was wanting.” The vibration finally stops, as you wobble a few steps to your chair. Loki gives you his hand to help you sit down. You reluctantly take it, settling back in.

The meeting was finally over five minutes later. Everyone rushed to leave except for you and Loki. “Asshole.” You playfully slap his arm. He stands, gathering his phone and folder. “If you need assistance cleaning up that mess you made” He gestures to your legs, “I’d be happy to help.” He flashes that irresistible smile before leaving you to recover in the conference room.

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[takenbypeter]

You Were Missed

Loki Laufeyson x reader

Words:489

Loki’s cheeks puffed up with air as he waited impatiently. 

He had left to attend Asgard a month ago leaving you behind to continue your life on Midgard. 

The situation had sort of caught you both off guard, Thor calling Loki back just as you two were deepening your relationship, but you understood. You had your stuff here on earth and he had his stuff to take care of on Asgard. And while Loki knew you understood he couldn’t help but stand at your door, wondering exactly how you’ve spent this past month. 

Have you missed him? Have you finally reached that goal at work that you’ve been so close to reaching? A month is a long time, were you possibly talking to other people? He wasn’t. 

Before he dug himself even further into that rabbit hole, he brought himself to knock on your door. 

“Coming!” He heard some running and then a pause as you no doubt looked out to see who it was. Then he heard a click before the door was pulled open revealing you on the other side. 

All his doubts and worries left instantly as he saw your cheeks lift into an infectious smile. 

“Loki, you’re back.” It was a statement with just a hint of excitement that he could pick up on.

“What are you doing back so soon I thought you had to stay on Asgard for another month?”

He shrugged nonchalantly hiding his enormous joy to see you, “yeah well I figured as much that you probably missed me by now and it was time I made my reappearance.” You raised a brow questioningly at his sentence. “Well, yay! I’ve missed you.” There was that smile again. 

“You missed me?” 

“Yeah, did you miss me?”

Loki’s face expressed seriousness, as he stood there practically caught in his own trap. That being true feelings. It took him a moment to figure out his next move as he let out a loud, “Ha! Don't think too highly of yourself Midgardian. Just because I crave your company every now and then, doesn't mean that you're missed every second of the day."

“You crave my company?”

He grows silent, suddenly looking a bit awkward standing in your doorway.

You laughed at his strange choice of words breaking the awkward tension. His words while a bit defensive hid some truth behind them which meant much more to you than he knew. 

“Ahem, yes well like I said sometimes that’s the case. But never mind that, I’m here. Do you have time to spare?”

You stood for a second admiring the man who now wore a puppy dog look on his face. Instead of pressing further, you nodded your head before stepping aside. “Come in,” he grinned smugly as if he wasn’t practically begging you to invite him in with his eyes. 

“Ah my lovely Loki,” you mumbled under your breath, shutting the front door behind him. 

[emptyultimatum]

SWEATER WEATHER

Avenger AU Loki x fem!reader In which Loki and his girlfriend (you) clash cutely over weather-appropriate clothing.

Loki raised his arms above his head, the shoulders in his scarred back rippling with muscles. His shirt lay on the floor, stripped off and sweaty from his work out. Facing the window, admiring the view of New York, he groaned as he stretched, pulling, reaching. Crrck, pop, crack! 

“Ah, that feels better,” he sighed, rolling his shoulders to settle them. He shook his black curls out of his bun, pulling the hair tie onto his wrist absently. “Darling, where are you?” 

She slid into the room, beaming absurdly at him, arms spread wide. “Look at my sweater.” 

It was July, and a heatwave was rocking New York with a vengeance. Signs sagged in the heat; cars were dangerous to the touch; the sun bounced off glass buildings with such aggression, Loki felt as if his eyes were being burned alive. Thank Odin for sunglasses, which he wore regularly. 

And despite this all, his girlfriend decided to buy a sweater. An overlarge, shapeless, lumpy grey sweater, which had sleeves so long they flopped over her hands like bunny ears. 

“You can’t be serious,” Loki said, staring at the sweater. 

She grinned. “I’m so serious. It’s so comfy.” 

She did look comfy. Absurdly comfy, in fact. The kind of comfy that winter and hot chocolate and fireplaces heralded. And the way that the tops of her thighs stuck out from the bottom, round and plump… He felt a strong urge to pull her onto the bed and cuddle into her for the next week or so. 

But then Loki remembered the hundred-two degree high they were predicted to reach today. 

“Take it off,” he said. “You’re going to melt.” 

“Tony can pay for AC,” she waved him off, bouncing to the thermostat and cranking it low. “Ahh. I love it.” 

He gave her a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re utterly ridiculous. It’s the height of summer, darling, and you bought a sweater.” 

“That’s the best time!” she argued. “Off-season sales! I got this for thirty bucks.” 

“Thirty bucks?” 

“The original price was fifty-eight,” she said stubbornly. 

Loki prayed to his mother. “At least put it in storage until the proper climate arrives.” 

“That’s in months,” she waved him off, sweater sleeve flapping. “I wanna wear it now.” 

“Of course you do.”

“We should make hot chocolate. I’m in a hot chocolate mood.” 

“Naturally, in summer, hot chocolate is a must-have.” 

“And watch Frozen!” 

“This must be some sort of joke,” he pleaded. “What insanity drove you to this? It’s a damn ninety-eight degrees!” 

She cackled. “I like sweaters.” 

“You don’t even wear them!” Loki cried. 

“Now I do!” She climbed into their bed, snuggled under the covers. The AC was properly blasting now, sending cold gusts of air down his sweaty, post-gym skin. She patted the space beside her, smiling up at him. “Come cuddle. It’s cold.” 

“And they call me the Mad One,” he muttered, climbing into the bed. She giggled, putting her arms around him, snuggling him into her chest. 

“Perfect,” she sighed. 

Perfect indeed, Loki smiled into her sweater, feeling its soft fibers tickling his cheek. She was warm, soft, and plush. The perfect place to rest his head, to ease his worries. 

They lay silently together, hearts beating in sync, the summer sun gleaming through their window as the AC pumped cold air into the room. She sighed, pleased, snuggled in her sweater. 

“We do have a mission brief in a few moments,” Loki murmured. 

“I know,” she said. 

“And you’re going to wear the—”

“I’m going to wear the sweater.” 

Loki hid his smile in her chest. “We’d best alert Stark, then, so he might prepare the room temperature for you in advance.” 

“How considerate,” she smiled. “You’d do that for me?” 

“Darling, I’d freeze the world twice over if you wished for snow.” 

She beamed at him, pure and unabashed joy. “Well, it’s a good thing I only want you.” 

Loki’s heart fizzled, his skin tingling with the closeness of her. 

“And hot chocolate,” she added. 

He laughed, and brought her in for a kiss.