#loki fanfction

[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.

Tags

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[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.”

[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.”

***

[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. 

[amethystarachnid]

FORBIDDEN

⤷ LOKI LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and maybe a tiny bit of fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.8k (damn)

ᯓ★ TW(s): so much angst that it needs a tw, arranged marriages, Loki vs Tv remote (remote won), Loki vs Spaghetti (Spaghetti won)

ᯓ★ Timeline: before the movies

ᯓ★ Request: Hi! I love the idea for this challenge, so I'd love to request a Forbidden relationship with Loki if that's okay. If you prefer not to write about him, I'm happy to see it with Tony instead! 🤍 ( @nicoline1998enilocin) [we love Loki in this blog <3 ]

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

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

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air is thick with tension as you stand in the shadows of the grand hall, your heart racing in your chest. From where you are, you can see him—Loki, the God of Mischief, prince of Asgard, and the one person you’re not supposed to love. He sits at the long, golden table, laughing lightly at something his brother Thor says, though his eyes betray the storm of emotions swirling within him. Your chest tightens at the sight, the distance between you feeling more like a chasm than a few short steps.

You shouldn’t be here. You know that. Servants are not meant to linger, to watch, to hope. You belong in the shadows, the corners, where no one sees you. Especially not him. Especially not a prince.

But he sees you. He always does.

A fleeting glance. That’s all he allows himself. The briefest flicker of emerald eyes in your direction, so quick that no one else could ever notice. But you feel it as if his gaze had touched your skin. The heat, the longing, the unspoken words that scream louder than anything ever could.

Loving him is a curse—a dangerous, beautiful curse.

It’s forbidden. He’s the prince, and you… you are nothing more than a servant in the royal palace, an invisible figure in his world of gods and thrones. And yet, despite the danger, despite the constant threat that hangs over both your heads, you can’t stop. You can’t stay away from him, and he can’t seem to let you go.

You remember the last time you were alone together. The secrecy, the stolen moments, the way he kissed you as if he’d been starving for you his whole life. It was desperate. It always is. Each time, you know it could be the last, and it’s killing you.

Tonight, in this crowded room filled with the finest nobles and warriors of Asgard, you stand on the opposite side of the world from him. But you can still feel his presence, a pull stronger than anything else. He looks so calm, so composed, the picture of a perfect prince. But you know better. You know the battle that rages inside him, just as it does inside you.

The door behind you creaks open, and your heart leaps into your throat as a guard walks past, his eyes barely glancing your way. A close call. Too close. You lower your head, reminding yourself of the rules, the risks. If anyone found out…

But then you hear it—your name, spoken in that smooth, dark voice that always manages to send shivers down your spine. You don’t even need to turn to know it’s him.

“Meet me,” Loki murmurs, his words barely audible over the clinking of glasses and murmurs of the court. “Tonight. You know where.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. But he doesn’t need you to. You know he’ll be waiting, just as you will be. And when the night falls, and the palace sleeps, you will find each other again. You always do.

But with every meeting, every kiss, every whispered promise in the dead of night, you feel the noose tightening around both your necks. One day, someone will find out. And when they do, your world will come crashing down.

The weight of that knowledge crushes you every second, but none so heavily as when you catch his eye again from across the room. There's so much distance between you—physical, social, cosmic. A prince and a servant. The most forbidden of loves.

But gods help you, you love him anyway. And that may be the most dangerous thing of all.

The night is silent, save for the soft rustle of leaves in the palace gardens and the distant murmur of the wind through the tall, stone walls. You move quietly, your heart pounding in your chest with every step you take toward the secret passage. The same passage you’ve slipped through countless times before.

Your hands shake as you push open the heavy door that leads to the darkened corridor. This is madness. Every fiber of your being screams at you to turn back, to run and never look back. But the pull toward him is stronger, more insistent. It’s like a fire in your veins, a need so deep it terrifies you.

When you finally reach the small alcove where he waits, you stop just before stepping into the moonlight. You know he’s there, hidden in the shadows, but you hesitate. For a brief moment, the weight of what you’re doing—what you’ve been doing—crashes down on you.

You’re risking everything. He is too.

Then you hear the faint sound of his breath, a sharp intake as if he senses your presence, and you step forward. The pale light from the moon bathes the stone floor in silver, and you see him, standing there, tall and cloaked in darkness, his sharp features softened by the night.

"Loki," you whisper, your voice trembling, though you wish it weren’t.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, closing the distance between you with a grace that never fails to steal your breath. His hands reach for you, cold and firm, and when they touch your skin, it feels like an anchor pulling you out of the storm. You melt into his embrace, the tension in your body dissolving as you feel the warmth of him against you.

“You came,” he breathes, his voice low and filled with a relief that mirrors your own. His arms tighten around you as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“I always do,” you whisper back, resting your forehead against his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart beneath his clothes.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. The world outside is distant, and here, in this stolen moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in existence. But it never lasts, and the reality of what you are doing creeps back in like a cold gust of wind.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you murmur, your words barely audible, though you feel him stiffen at your confession.

“I know,” he replies, his voice strained, his breath brushing the top of your head. His fingers run through your hair, gentle but desperate. “But how can I stop? How can I stay away from you when every moment without you feels like I’m being torn apart?”

Your eyes sting as his words sink in, but you force yourself to pull back, just enough to look up at him. His expression is tormented, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that he rarely allows anyone to see. But you know. You know him better than anyone else ever could.

“Loki, if they find out—”

“They won’t.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a blade. “I won’t let them. Not Thor, not my father, not anyone.”

There’s a fire in his eyes, a fierce determination, but you shake your head, your heart aching. “You can’t protect me from this. From us. You’re a prince, and I… I’m just—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, his hand moving to cradle your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don’t say that. You are everything to me.”

Tears burn your eyes as you search his face, desperate to find some solution, some way for this to work, but it feels like the walls are closing in on you both. There’s no way out. You’ve always known that. But you’ve let yourselves fall too far, too deeply.

“I don’t care what I am or what you are,” Loki continues, his voice rough with emotion. “You belong to me, and I belong to you. Do you understand?”

His words wrap around your heart like a vise, both a comfort and a curse. You want to believe him, to pretend that love could be enough to keep you safe. But it’s not. It never has been.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you choke out, your voice breaking, the fear and the love warring inside you.

“You won’t,” he promises, his lips brushing your forehead, soft and reverent. “I’ll tear down the heavens themselves before I let that happen.”

His arms pull you back into him, and you cling to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth. In his embrace, you feel both safe and utterly doomed. You’re trapped between two worlds—the love you feel for him, and the reality of what you are to each other.

For now, in the quiet of the night, you let yourself forget. Forget the palace walls, the crown that weighs heavy on his head, the consequences that lurk around every corner.

In this moment, all that matters is him. The way he holds you, the way he whispers your name like a prayer, the way his lips press against yours, slow and full of a need that never seems to fade.

But in the back of your mind, you know this will end. It has to. And when it does, it will shatter you both.

The moment you pull away from Loki’s kiss, reality crashes back with a force that steals your breath. His arms still hold you, but the cold bite of the night air seeps in, reminding you of the walls you’re trapped between. You bury your face in his chest, hoping to hide from the truth, but it’s already too late.

A sudden, echoing sound breaks through the quiet—footsteps, distant but approaching. Too close.

Loki stiffens instantly, his body tense and alert. His hand grips your arm as he pulls you further into the shadows, his expression sharp and calculating. Your heart leaps into your throat as panic grips you. Someone’s coming. Someone knows.

“Stay here,” he whispers urgently, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low but firm. “Don’t move.”

“Loki—”

Before you can protest, he slips into the darkness, silent as a shadow. You press yourself against the cold stone wall, your mind racing, every second dragging on as fear gnaws at you. If you’re found here, like this, with him, it will be the end of everything. There’s no escaping the consequences this time.

The footsteps grow louder, and you can’t breathe, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. Then, from the shadows, you hear voices—deep and commanding.

Odin.

You nearly sink to the floor in horror, every muscle in your body seizing as the realization crashes over you. Loki’s father, the Allfather himself, is here. And if he’s here…

“Loki,” Odin’s voice booms, sharp and filled with authority, cutting through the night like ice. “Step forward.”

There’s a pause, a silence so thick it’s suffocating. You can barely make out Loki’s form as he steps forward into the light of the courtyard, facing his father. The tension between them is palpable, thick like smoke.

“I wondered where you had slipped away to,” Odin continues, his voice cold, though laced with something dangerous. “Is there a reason you’re skulking about in the shadows like a common thief, my son?”

Loki stands tall, but you can see the tightness in his jaw, the way his hands are clenched at his sides. You know he’s holding back, trying to mask the fury and fear beneath the surface. “I needed air, Father,” he replies smoothly, though the edge in his voice betrays him. “I find the court’s company rather… tedious.”

Odin’s gaze sharpens, as if he sees right through the lie. “Air, indeed.” His voice lowers, his next words heavy with unspoken meaning. “You’ve been distracted lately. More than usual.”

Your blood runs cold. He knows. He has to know.

“I expect your full attention on the matter at hand,” Odin continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Your betrothal must be finalized soon.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Betrothal.

You feel the world tilt beneath your feet, nausea churning in your stomach. Betrothal? What is he talking about?

Loki doesn’t react at first, but you can see the slight twitch in his brow, the flicker of anger that darkens his features.

“There will be no betrothal,” Loki says through clenched teeth, his voice dangerously low.

Odin’s eyes narrow, and for the first time, you hear the warning in his tone. “You have no choice, Loki. As a prince of Asgard, you are bound to your duty. We have an alliance to secure. You will marry Lady Sigyn, and the arrangements will proceed as planned.”

Lady Sigyn. The name rings in your ears like a death knell.

Loki’s jaw tightens, fury flashing across his face. “I won’t be a pawn in your games, Father.”

“You will do what is required of you,” Odin thunders, his voice leaving no room for defiance. “This is not a debate.”

Your legs threaten to give out beneath you, but you force yourself to stay hidden, clutching at the stone wall to keep yourself upright. He’s going to marry someone else. It feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest, the agony too much to bear.

“I don’t care about your alliances or your politics,” Loki spits, his control slipping as the rage breaks through. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand more than you think,” Odin snaps, stepping forward, towering over Loki. “You’re blinded by foolishness, by her.”

Her. The word hangs in the air, sharp and cruel.

You.

The blood drains from your face, your heart seizing in panic. Odin knows. He’s known all along.

“This servant girl has no place in your life,” Odin declares, his voice filled with disdain. “She is beneath you, beneath the throne. I will not allow you to throw away your future for something so meaningless.”

Loki’s entire body tenses, fury radiating off him in waves. “She is not meaningless,” he growls, his voice venomous, his control slipping further. “You don’t know anything about what she means to me.”

“And you will forget her,” Odin commands, his tone final and merciless. “If you refuse to do your duty, then she will be sent away, far from Asgard, where you will never see her again.”

A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down, your vision blurring with unshed tears. He would banish you. Rip you away from Loki, from everything. The love you’ve kept secret, the love that burns so brightly it hurts—destroyed.

“No,” Loki’s voice is a low, dangerous growl, but there’s an edge of desperation to it. “You can’t take her from me.”

Odin’s eyes blaze with cold fire. “I can. And I will.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t move, don’t breathe, waiting for the moment to shatter. But Loki—Loki steps closer to his father, his eyes burning with defiance.

“If you take her from me,” Loki says quietly, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage, “you’ll lose me too.”

The words hang in the air like a threat, the tension between them palpable, and for a moment, the night itself seems to hold its breath.

But Odin’s face hardens. “You would forsake your family, your throne, for her?”

Loki doesn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched, his breath shallow. Finally, he speaks, his voice low but firm. “I already have.”

Odin stares at him, disbelief flickering across his face, before his expression turns cold, harder than ever. “Then you are no son of mine.”

The words cut deeper than any sword, and you feel the sharp sting of tears spill over as the weight of them sinks in. Loki stands there, frozen for a moment, his face betraying the pain he feels, even if he tries to hide it. Then, without another word, Odin turns and strides away, his footsteps echoing through the night, leaving you and Loki alone in the suffocating silence.

Loki stands there for a long moment, staring at where his father had been, his chest rising and falling with the effort to keep his emotions in check. Then, slowly, he turns to you, his face pale, his eyes dark with anguish.

“I’ve lost him,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of his choice is only now sinking in.

You step toward him, your heart breaking for him, for both of you, but the words won’t come. All you can do is reach for him, pulling him into your arms, holding him as tightly as you can, as if you could somehow shield him from the world crashing down around you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

Loki’s arms wrap around you, and for a moment, it feels like the two of you are the only ones left in the universe, clinging to each other amidst the wreckage. But you know—deep down—you can’t escape the truth forever.

You’ve both lost too much.

And the worst is yet to come.

The decision gnaws at you for days, eating away at your soul like a poison you can’t expel. Each moment you spend with Loki after that night feels like borrowed time, a dream on the verge of ending. You know what you have to do, but the thought of it turns your stomach, fills you with a dread so deep it feels as if it’s suffocating you.

But you also know why you have to do it.

Loki would never leave you. He would burn the Nine Realms down before he let anyone take you from him. But that’s precisely why you must be the one to leave.

Loki needs his father’s approval more than he’ll ever admit, more than he even realizes. Beneath the layers of defiance, anger, and rebellion, there is still a part of him—perhaps the most fragile part—that craves Odin’s acceptance, his love. You’ve seen the way Loki’s face tightens every time Odin’s words cut too deep, the way his heart breaks a little more with every dismissal. He hides it well from the world, but not from you. Never from you.

And now, because of you, that fragile part of him has been shattered.

The memory of Odin’s voice still echoes in your mind, cold and merciless: “Then you are no son of mine.” You remember the way Loki’s breath caught, the brief flicker of pain that crossed his face before he masked it with anger. But you saw it. You felt it.

This is not what you wanted for him. Not this rift, not this war between him and his father. He’s lost too much already, and you can’t be the reason he loses more. You can’t be the reason he’s torn apart, trying to balance his love for you and his duty to his family.

You make your decision, the weight of it crashing down on you with a finality that leaves you breathless.

You’ll leave. You’ll exile yourself to Midgard—Earth—where no one will find you. Where no one will look. You’ll disappear from his life, make it seem like you were taken, lost, or gone by choice. If he believes you’ve left, if he thinks you’ve moved on, then maybe—just maybe—he’ll do what he must. He’ll marry Lady Sigyn, secure his place as prince, and perhaps… perhaps he’ll finally earn the approval he’s always longed for.

It will destroy you. You know this. But if it saves him, it will be worth it.

That night, you leave without a word.

You wait until the palace is asleep, the halls quiet, only the distant sound of guards patrolling. You know this place too well by now, know the hidden corridors, the back passageways where no one will notice you slipping away. Your heart hammers in your chest, every step feeling heavier than the last, but you push through the pain.

The small bag you carry feels like a weight tethering you to the ground. Inside are only the essentials—things you will need to survive on Earth. It feels wrong, surreal, to leave behind everything you’ve ever known, but it’s a small price to pay for Loki’s future.

As you pass through the courtyard, the moon hangs low in the sky, casting a pale, silver light over Asgard. It feels like the last time you’ll ever see it—your home, the place where you fell in love with a prince you never should have touched. Your throat tightens, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop.

The Bifrost glows in the distance, a beacon of escape, and your steps quicken, though every part of you screams to turn back. You’ll leave through the Bifrost, beg Heimdall to send you to Midgard. You pray he will understand, that he’ll let you go without question.

But as you near the Rainbow Bridge, something stops you in your tracks.

A figure stands in your path, his golden eyes glowing beneath his helm. Heimdall.

You knew he would be here, guarding the way to the other realms, but the intensity of his gaze as it falls upon you makes you falter. He sees everything, knows what you intend before you even speak.

“Heimdall, I—” Your voice trembles, but you force yourself to stand tall, to speak with conviction. “I need you to send me to Midgard. Please.”

Heimdall says nothing at first, his gaze piercing through you, as if reading every secret, every hidden intention behind your eyes. The weight of his silence is crushing.

“Do you truly believe leaving will solve anything?” he asks, his voice low, but full of knowing. “Do you think disappearing will bring him peace?”

Tears sting your eyes, but you shake your head, biting down the sob that claws its way up your throat. “He can’t lose everything because of me. He needs to stay here. He needs to—”

“To marry another woman and live in misery?” Heimdall’s gaze softens, just barely. “Loki would never forgive himself. Or you.”

You wipe the tears from your cheeks, trying to keep your voice steady. “He will. In time. He will forget me, and he’ll be what his father wants him to be.”

Heimdall’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a heaviness to his words when he speaks again. “Loki loves you more than you know. His path may be fraught with darkness, but losing you will plunge him deeper into it than you realize.”

You freeze at his words, the full weight of them sinking into your chest. A part of you knows he’s right. Loki’s love for you is boundless, a consuming fire that would burn anything in its path to keep you safe. But that’s why you have to leave. It’s the only way to keep him from losing more than he already has.

“He’ll survive,” you whisper, the words almost breaking you. “He’ll find a way to live without me.”

Heimdall’s gaze holds yours for a long, agonizing moment. “Perhaps. But will you survive without him?”

The question feels like a blow to your chest, and for a moment, the resolve you’ve built crumbles. You can’t imagine a world without Loki. Can’t imagine a life where you don’t feel his hands pulling you close in the dead of night, his voice whispering your name like a sacred thing.

But that’s why you have to do this.

“I have to try,” you choke out, your tears finally falling freely. “He needs his family. He needs his father. He needs to be what Asgard wants him to be.”

Heimdall watches you for a moment longer, his eyes filled with something that looks almost like sorrow. But then, slowly, he steps aside, clearing your path to the Bifrost.

“If this is your choice,” he says quietly, “I will not stop you.”

You stare at the shimmering path before you, the way to Midgard open, the escape you so desperately sought now within reach. But now that you’re standing on the brink of it, your heart feels like it’s being torn in two.

Without another word, you take a step forward, and then another. Each step feels heavier than the last, like your heart is shattering with every inch you put between yourself and Asgard—between yourself and him.

Just as you reach the edge of the Bifrost, you stop, one final thought seizing you.

Loki will wake, and he’ll look for you. He’ll search every corner of the realm, desperate to find you, to pull you back into his arms. But you won’t be there.

You press a hand to your chest, willing the pain to subside, but it only deepens. And then, before you can second-guess yourself, you step into the beam of light and let it take you.

As you’re pulled toward Midgard, the last image that flashes in your mind is Loki’s face—his eyes, his smile, the way he said your name like a promise.

And then it’s gone, along with everything you ever knew.

The moment Loki wakes, something feels wrong. The cold weight of the bed beside him, where you should be, is empty. His hand moves to the space where you usually lie, expecting to find the warmth of your body, but there’s nothing. The absence hits him like a sudden plunge into icy water, and panic claws at his chest.

“Y/N?”

His voice echoes in the room, but only silence answers.

He sits up quickly, his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes scan the dimly lit chamber, searching for any sign of you—your cloak tossed on a chair, your hairpin on the table, anything. But the room is empty. Too empty. His gut twists as dread coils within him.

You’ve vanished.

He throws on his cloak and storms out of the room, a desperate, wild energy propelling him forward. His mind races, a hundred possibilities flashing through his head, each worse than the last. Where could you have gone? You wouldn’t leave him without saying anything. You wouldn’t.

He searches the palace, every hallway, every hidden alcove where you might have retreated. Each passing minute tightens the vice around his heart, and a dark, sickening fear begins to take root.

It’s only when he reaches the gardens that he spots Heimdall, standing still, his gaze fixed far beyond the realm of Asgard.

“Where is she?” Loki demands, his voice sharp, though beneath it, there’s a tremor of fear. “Heimdall, where is she?”

The gatekeeper’s golden eyes shift toward him, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of sympathy, a look that confirms Loki’s worst suspicions.

“She’s gone,” Heimdall says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow.

Loki’s heart plummets, the ground seeming to tilt beneath him. “Gone?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Where?”

Heimdall doesn’t answer immediately, but the silence speaks volumes. Loki’s eyes narrow, anger flashing in them like a storm. “Where?”

“Midgard,” Heimdall finally says, the word falling between them like a death sentence. “She left… to spare you.”

The words don’t register at first. Loki stares at Heimdall, his mind struggling to make sense of it. You… left? To spare him? It feels impossible, unreal, like some cruel trick the Norns themselves had spun just to watch him unravel.

“She left because she believed it would save you,” Heimdall continues, his voice gentle but firm. “To make you fulfill your duty. To win back your father’s approval.”

Loki’s body goes rigid, his chest tightening painfully as the full weight of it hits him. You’d left him. You’d sacrificed yourself, your happiness, to give him something he never even wanted—a hollow peace with his father, a loveless marriage that would tie him to a woman he didn’t care for.

“No…” The word tumbles from his lips, broken, as if by saying it, he could undo the truth. “No, she wouldn’t… she couldn’t…” But even as he says it, he knows it’s exactly what you would do. You would throw yourself into the abyss if it meant saving him, even if it destroyed you in the process.

The pain is unbearable. The thought of you, alone on Midgard, thinking that leaving was the only way to save him—it rips through him like a blade. His vision blurs, the edges of his world collapsing in on itself. He turns on his heel, moving before he even knows what he’s doing.

He’ll find you. He’ll bring you back. Nothing will stop him. Not his father, not this cursed marriage, not the Nine Realms themselves.

But just as he storms toward the Bifrost, the familiar voice of his mother stops him in his tracks.

“Loki.”

Frigga’s voice is soft but firm, and when he turns to face her, her expression is filled with concern, with sadness. “I know what you’re thinking, but you cannot go after her.”

“Why not?” Loki snaps, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. “Why should I stay here and let her go? I won’t.”

Frigga steps closer, her eyes searching his face. “Because your father has commanded it. And because you must meet Lady Sigyn today. The arrangements have already been made.”

Loki’s blood runs cold. Sigyn. His betrothed. The woman he’s being forced to marry.

His fists clench at his sides, his mind screaming at him to refuse, to defy his father’s every order, but the weight of his mother’s words, of Odin’s power over him, crashes down like a hammer. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—trapped between the burning desire to chase after you and the crushing reality of his duty.

“I can’t,” he breathes, shaking his head. “I can’t marry her, Mother. Not when—”

Frigga’s hand rests gently on his arm, her eyes filled with sympathy. “I know, my son. But for now, you must.”

The meeting with Lady Sigyn is nothing short of torturous.

The grand hall where the introductions take place feels stifling, every gilded surface mocking him, every face around the table a reminder of the farce he’s being forced to play. Lady Sigyn stands before him, dressed in the finest Asgardian silks, her long blonde hair flowing like a waterfall down her back. She is every inch the perfect noblewoman, her posture elegant, her beauty undeniable.

But Loki can’t see her. Not really.

Every time his eyes fall on her, all he sees is you. Your laugh, your touch, your smile when you tease him in private moments. Every word Sigyn speaks fades into background noise, drowned out by the memories of your voice, the softness of it when you whispered his name in the dark.

“I hope this union will bring peace to our realms,” Sigyn says, her voice calm, rehearsed, a woman born to play this role. She speaks of duty and honor, of the alliance their marriage will secure.

Loki nods, his jaw tight, but his mind is a thousand miles away.

He remembers how you would laugh at the absurdity of formalities, how you would roll your eyes at the very thought of grand speeches like this. You were never afraid to speak your mind to him, never afraid to push him, to make him feel real. Sigyn’s words, though perfectly crafted, feel like ash in his mouth, a hollow echo of something he cannot connect to.

When she reaches for his hand, Loki almost recoils, the touch foreign, unwelcome. He lets her take it, but it’s wrong. Her fingers feel cold, delicate but empty. They’re not your hands, not the hands he’s craved, not the touch he would burn worlds for.

The more Sigyn speaks, the more unbearable it becomes. Her beauty, her grace, her calm demeanor—it’s everything Asgard expects of its princess. But Loki doesn’t want perfection. He doesn’t want her. He wants the fire, the passion, the laughter that only you could bring him.

He wants you.

As the meeting drags on, Loki’s mind spirals, twisting in on itself. How could he be standing here, listening to the woman he’s supposed to marry, when the only woman who truly owns his heart is gone? He doesn’t care about alliances, about politics, about securing his place in Asgard. All of it is meaningless without you.

The pain of your absence is suffocating, a wound that will never heal. You, who sacrificed everything for him, who left so that he might live the life Odin had planned for him. And now he’s here, going through the motions, trapped in a future that feels like a prison.

Sigyn’s voice fades again, and all Loki can think of is finding you, holding you in his arms, telling you that he doesn’t care about his father’s approval. That he would give up his throne, his title, everything — if only you would come back to him.

Because without you, none of it means anything at all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It’s strange, this new life you’ve carved out for yourself on Midgard.

At first, it was jarring—too quiet, too mundane, and too empty. The absence of Asgard's grand halls, the shimmering skies, the bustling sounds of a realm so unlike this one… and the absence of him. The silence was the worst part. You had grown so used to Loki’s presence—his wry comments, his wit, the way his voice could fill any room, soft yet commanding. The nights felt impossibly long without his warmth beside you.

But eventually, you adapted. You had to.

Days turned into weeks, and then into months, and you forced yourself to settle into this new reality. You found a job—something simple, something that kept your mind busy and your hands occupied, so you wouldn’t think too much about what you left behind. The people here were kind, in a way that felt foreign but comforting. They didn’t ask questions about who you were or where you came from, and for that, you were grateful.

But no matter how much time passed, there was always a hollow space inside you, a part of you that felt incomplete. You could pretend, most days, that you were fine—that you had made peace with your decision. But every now and then, when you walked home alone, when you lay in your bed at night staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest would return, sharp and unforgiving.

You still thought of him. You wondered how he was, whether he’d married Sigyn, whether he had found some semblance of happiness without you. Whether he had moved on.

Whether he missed you as much as you missed him.

It’s been a long day at work, and your legs ache as you make your way up the stairs to your small apartment. The autumn air is crisp, the streets of Midgard quiet and peaceful as you climb the last few steps, your breath coming out in small clouds. You fumble with your keys as you unlock the door, mind drifting to the usual thoughts of dinner and maybe a long bath.

You push the door open, kicking it shut behind you with a sigh of relief, and set your bag down. The apartment is dark, just as you left it this morning. You reach for the light switch, but before your fingers even touch it, you feel it.

The presence.

A chill runs down your spine. You know this feeling—the prickle of awareness, the way the air seems to shift around you. It’s the feeling of someone powerful, someone familiar, watching you. Your heart races as you turn slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

He’s there.

Loki stands in the corner of your apartment, bathed in shadows, but there’s no mistaking him. His tall, lean frame, his raven hair falling just past his shoulders, and those piercing green eyes that seem to see straight through you. For a moment, you can’t breathe. You can’t think.

It’s like he’s stepped out of a dream—one you’ve had so many times it hurts. But this… this is no dream.

“Loki…” His name slips from your lips, a whisper, a question, a prayer all at once.

He doesn’t move at first, just watches you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unreadable in his gaze—something darker, more raw than you’ve ever seen before.

“You left,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. There’s no anger in it, no accusation, but the pain beneath the words is unmistakable. “You left without telling me.”

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest. There’s so much you want to say, so much you need to explain, but the words stick in your throat. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. All the reasons, all the justifications you told yourself back then seem to crumble in the face of his presence.

“I…” You force the words out, your voice barely above a whisper. “I had to.”

Loki steps forward, and in the dim light, you can see the shadows under his eyes, the way his face is drawn, as though he hasn’t slept in days—weeks, maybe. There’s a desperation in his movements, a restrained storm beneath his calm exterior.

“Had to?” His voice is sharper now, the hurt lacing every syllable. “You had to disappear? You had to leave me without a word, without a trace, as if we meant nothing to each other?”

You flinch at the raw pain in his words, and your heart aches with the weight of it. You take a step toward him, shaking your head. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to. Loki, you have to understand—I thought I was doing what was best for you. Your father, the marriage… I couldn’t stand in the way of your future. I couldn’t be the reason you lost everything.”

Loki’s eyes flash with something fierce, something bordering on rage. “My future?” He laughs, but it’s a bitter, hollow sound. “You think any of that matters to me without you? You think I would trade you for a throne I never wanted? For a father’s approval that means nothing to me?”

You stare at him, frozen, your mind reeling. “But… I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he cuts in, his voice hard, but his eyes soften as they lock onto yours. “I didn’t want any of it. Not the marriage, not Asgard’s politics, not my father’s favor. All I ever wanted was you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. The words you longed to hear, the ones you feared you never would—they hang in the air between you, heavy with truth and regret.

“Loki…” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I… I left so you could be free.”

“Free?” His eyes darken, and he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that the familiar scent of him—magic, leather, and something inherently Loki—wraps around you like a fog. “I’ve never been more imprisoned than in the moment you were gone.”

You blink back tears, your vision blurring as his words sink in. The months of separation, of silence, of convincing yourself you were doing the right thing—it all unravels in a single moment.

“I thought I was saving you,” you confess, your voice cracking. “I thought I was doing what was right.”

Loki’s hands reach out, and before you can even process it, his fingers are gently cupping your face, his touch so familiar, so warm. “You were always what was right,” he murmurs, his voice breaking with emotion. “I didn’t want their approval. I didn’t want their expectations. All I wanted was you.”

Tears spill down your cheeks, and before you know it, you’re collapsing into his arms, the months of pain and loneliness crashing down all at once. He pulls you close, his grip tight, as if afraid you’ll vanish again if he lets go. His lips press against your hair, your temple, every touch a reassurance that he’s here—that this is real.

“I searched everywhere for you,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I tore through realms to find you. And now that I have, I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.”

You cling to him, your face buried in his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The weight of your decision, the months of agony, seem to melt away in his embrace, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to breathe.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. “Loki,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, brushing a tear from your cheek with a tenderness that undoes you. “You don’t need to be. We’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

And as his lips meet yours in a kiss that is both desperate and gentle, filled with all the words that were left unsaid, you know he’s right.

The decision isn’t made lightly, but once Loki has you back in his arms, there’s no going back. Not to Asgard’s grand halls, not to the suffocating weight of duty, and certainly not to the life his father had tried to carve out for him. He’s already wasted too much time, bound by the expectations of others.

So he stays. On Midgard. With you.

It’s a wild, audacious choice—and exactly the kind of thing Loki would do.

The transition, however, is a bit… rocky.

A few days after he’s settled into your apartment, you come home from work to find him sitting on the couch, staring at the TV remote like it’s some kind of strange artifact. He holds it up the moment you walk in.

“What is this infernal device?” he asks, his voice laced with frustration, as if the small piece of plastic has personally wronged him. “I’ve been trying to command this ‘box of illusions’ to show me something worth watching for hours!”

You stifle a laugh, biting your lip as you take off your coat. “That’s… a TV remote, Loki. You’re supposed to press the buttons, not talk to it.”

His brow furrows, clearly unimpressed. “Ridiculous,” he mutters, tossing the remote aside with a look of disdain. “Why should I be at the mercy of these buttons when I have the power to bend reality?”

“Because,” you say, walking over to him and taking a seat on the couch, “here on Midgard, we use buttons. And reality-bending might raise some eyebrows with the neighbors.”

He huffs but doesn’t argue, though you can see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Midgardians and their absurd contraptions…” he mutters under his breath, but then he turns to you, his expression softening as he reaches for your hand. “At least you’re worth all of this.”

You can’t help but smile, leaning into him as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “I’m glad you think so.”

The adjustment to Midgardian life isn’t just about TV remotes, though. Loki, for all his godlike powers and silver-tongued brilliance, is… well, a little out of his element in this new world.

For instance, grocery shopping.

The first time you take him to a supermarket, he stands in the produce aisle, staring at the variety of fruits and vegetables as if they’ve personally offended him.

“Why are there so many kinds of apples?” he demands, picking up a Granny Smith and inspecting it with suspicion. “What is the difference between this and the others?”

“They’re just different types, Loki,” you explain, grabbing a couple of apples and putting them in your basket. “You’ll get used to it.”

He narrows his eyes, still unconvinced, before tossing the apple back into the pile. “Midgard is an odd place.”

But despite his grumbling, you can tell he’s slowly warming up to it. There’s a lightness to him now that you haven’t seen in so long. A freedom. Without Asgard’s heavy expectations looming over him, Loki is… different. Lighter. Happier.

Of course, he still has his dramatic moments.

One evening, you come home to find Loki pacing the living room with a determined look on his face, wearing your floral apron—the one with little daisies on it—while holding a spatula like it’s a weapon of great importance.

“Darling,” he declares the moment you walk through the door, “I have decided to master the art of Midgardian cuisine.”

You blink at him, trying very hard not to laugh at the sight of Loki, Prince of Asgard, dressed in a flowery apron and looking deadly serious. “Is that so?”

He nods gravely. “Indeed. You deserve the finest of meals, prepared by the finest of hands.” He pauses, glancing toward the kitchen with a frown. “However, these ‘instructions’ you provided me with are… unnecessarily complicated.”

You peer into the kitchen, where you spot an open cookbook lying on the counter, pages spattered with flour and other mysterious substances. Loki has clearly attempted something—whether it’s edible or not is another question.

“Okay,” you say, stepping closer to inspect the chaos. “What exactly were you trying to make?”

“Something called… spaghetti?” He says the word like it’s in another language, which, technically, it is. “It seemed simple enough, but this… pasta refused to cooperate.”

You stifle a laugh, eyeing the pot of overcooked noodles sitting in the sink. “I think you might’ve boiled it a little too long.”

“Too long?” Loki frowns, clearly offended by the suggestion. “It was behaving most stubbornly. I merely asserted my dominance.”

“That’s… not how cooking works, Loki.”

He huffs, folding his arms. “Midgardian food is clearly inferior. I’ll never understand why you enjoy it so much.”

You chuckle, reaching up to wipe a streak of flour from his cheek. “Well, I appreciate the effort.”

He leans into your touch, his frustration melting away as he pulls you into his arms. “For you, I would do far worse than battle rebellious pasta.”

“I know,” you say softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But maybe we should just order pizza.”

He sighs dramatically, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “If we must.”

Despite the quirks and the occasional mishap, there’s something incredibly sweet about watching Loki navigate this new life. He’s traded his princely titles and royal duties for quiet evenings with you, for late-night walks through the city, for the simple joy of waking up next to you without the weight of Asgard on his shoulders.

And it’s not just about what he’s given up—it’s about what he’s gained. Here, with you, he’s free to be himself, without the judgment of his father or the expectations of the court. He’s no longer Loki, the Trickster Prince. He’s just… Loki.

And as the two of you sit together on the couch, sharing a pizza (which Loki begrudgingly admits is quite good), he leans over and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice warm and low, “I never thought I could be happy like this. But you… you make everything worth it.”

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “I feel the same way.”

There’s a moment of quiet, the two of you just enjoying each other’s presence. And then Loki, ever the trickster, grins down at you.

“But I am going to master that television contraption,” he says, his tone utterly serious. “It will not defeat me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Whatever you say, Loki.”

And as the night stretches on, with him beside you, you realize that this—this simple, beautiful life—is more than you ever dreamed of. It’s not the palace of Asgard or the grandeur of the realms, but it’s yours. And that’s all that matters.

Because as long as you’re with Loki, wherever you are, it will always feel like home.

[joyful-enchantress]

Jól Never Be Alone | Loki x Fem!Reader

banner created by the amazing @springdandelixn

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

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

Word Count: 3k

Three damn days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your first rehearsal was in two hours.

You needed to get some air.

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

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

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

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

What was he doing here?

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

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

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

Yes. So many things, you have no idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You…what?”

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

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

“Then why —?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how you missed that smile.

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

“I love you too, wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, you found yourself looking forward to rehearsal.

And to the jól festival.

And to the rest of your life with Loki.

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

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

[proseandpretrichor]

Library Love | Loki x Reader

Summary: The TVA's beloved librarian unintentionally set up Loki with her favorite regular, unknowingly sparking a budding romance between the couple Warnings: None, just fluff Word count ~ 2489

Loki often found himself in the TVA library. It was where he found a certain peace for himself, a little bit of familiarity in such a different atmosphere. 

Because of such a frequent habit, naturally Loki had acquainted themselves to the patterns of the book-clad walls.  

The only working librarian, Dorace, was scheduled from 7am-3pm. Although she was hardly there for all of that time. Most of the system was done on paper, only the analog of the amount and names of books were kept on the very ancient computer at the front desk. Books were checked out and returned via sign out sheets attached to clipboards, only enforced with the good ole honor code. The only room in which Loki abided by religiously. The floor wasn’t never consistently all that busy, just a few stragglers looking for research for their reports and casework, and there were even less regulars. 

In fact, until today, Loki had convinced himself he was the only regular… 

It was a stereotypically boring day, with only a gloomy feeling aura separating it from all the rest. Loki had plopped himself at black leather clad armchair by the fire he claimed each day, reading a psychoanalysis from Asgard. 

After a few hours in which Loki had neither moved nor looked up from the worn pages, Dorace appeared in front of him with a mug clasped in her age worn fingers, steam rolling from the liquid almost like a dance it partook with itself. 

“Here’s a cup of tea for ya, love, figured I’d make you one before I leave.” She informed him, handing him the cup.

“Are you departing for the day?” Loki questioned her, taking a moment to glance up from his novel for the first time since he sat down to peer at the spindly arms of the large clock hanging over the small front desk, nestled between the two arms of the staircase rising to the second floor. 

10:34 AM, a bit earlier than the old woman usually lasts. 

“Are doing alright, my dear Dorace? Is there something that ails you today?” He asked eyes sweeping her form for any signs of illness. He found none that stood out at first glance. 

“Just a little ache in my knees, either it's my arthritis or it is going to rain. Regardless, both require me to be off my feet. And if it is the latter…” She paused to look out the window over her spectacles that had drooped down her nose from peering down at his seated position, before she continued, “I have no interest risking a cold, while strolling back home.” 

Loki hummed, taking a sip of his tea before joining her gaze, searching the cloudy sky. 

“If you need anything while I’m gone, searching a book or making another cuppa, Y/N can assist you.” She followed her words with a shaky pointed finger. Loki followed her motion to find you in the corner of the second floor, tucked into the little nook of the loveseat situated in the bay window. Next to you were a rather impressive stack of books. 

“I didn’t even notice her there.” Loki muttered mostly to himself. 

“Yes, I often forget she is there myself, very quiet, never troublesome. Got me the kettle actually, so sweet. Been here longer than myself I think.” Dorace supplied him, trailing off in volume seemingly lost in thought before turning, “Have a lovely day, dear, stay dry.” 

Loki responded only with a wave, knowing she had reached a distance at this point that rendered her unable to hear his farewells, even if he gave them. 

After a few minutes, Loki found his mind wandering from his pages to you. Sighing in defeat he closed the book, placing it onto his lap before returning his eyes to you. 

You had moved onto a different book at this point. Out of boredom, perhaps, Loki considered before deciding against it, you had looked too engrossed in the words when he first noticed you to be bored of its contents. You must be a fast reader, he concluded. 

The more he watched you the more restless he became. Suddenly he rose from his chair, and began making his way to the grand staircase. Pausing only for a moment to consider his actions before shaking off his doubts and climbing up the stairs. 

Your eyes stayed flowing across the page as he approached you. Even still as he stood before you, his eyes trailing down your appearance. 

Your frame was curled into itself, thighs pressed impossibly close to your chest, which in turn pushed the topmost slopes of your breasts up straining against the seam of your top. You were dressed comfortably yet the fabric clung beautifully against your curves, as if they were embracing you into a hug refusing to ever let you go. Your hair was pulled up from the nap of your neck absentmindedly with a few stray pieces falling into your gaze. Fuzzy slipper-like boots were covering your feet, which were slowly tapping in the air to the rhythm that encased your world with some background music which was floating from your earbuds.  You had on wide thin framed glasses that kept slipping ever so slightly with every twitch of your nose which Loki recognized as a sign of your deep engrossment in the novel, a romance novel, he assumed by the very poetic cliche title, something that didn’t deter you from its pages. 

Several moments had passed, yet you had still not lifted your gaze from your enchantment or noticed the tall dark-haired man’s presence. 

So ever so uncharacteristically light, Loki cleared his throat which finally alerted you to his figure. 

You jumped a smidge from your seat with a gasp, hands flying up to rip the earbuds from their place, melody still echoing through the speakers, “You scared me, god.” you scolded softly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 

“I’m ever so sorry, my lady, I was hoping you would notice me on your own but I was worried as the time passed on it might heighten your fright.”  Loki apologized with a bow of his before reaching down and clasping one of your warm hands into his own and raising it to his plush, pillowing lips. He gently pressed his lips to the top of your hand, before all too soon he removed his lips and lowered your hand whispering, “Please accept my apologies, my dear. I hope I have not upset you.” 

An eruption of butterflies danced around your tummy as you looked up through your lashes, to find his captivating gaze already locked onto your features, sincerity and adoration swirling in his green irises. 

Realizing he had spoken to you, you bowed your hand to your hands that were fidgeting in your lap, “No, no! It is not your fault at all, I’m sorry, I get so lost into the world sometimes, I really need to be more aware of my surroundings.” You hastily blurted, you were so proud your voice was not withering with nerves when you spoke. 

Much to your delight, the handsome stranger let out a deep melodic chuckle,  “I find that trait to be very admirable.” He motioned to sit opposite of you on the loveseat. “May I?” 

“Oh, yes! Please go ahead, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to keep you standing.” You scrambled to move your stake of books onto the side table you moved over to the bay window. 

“No apologies necessary, my lady,” He assured you will sitting down swinging one lag on top of the other before resting his chin on his closed fist perched onto his knee turning his head to look at you, “Dorace was quite taken with you when she when she came to alert me she was leaving. I just wanted to become acquainted, since we are the only ones in the library at this present moment. “ He followed his words with a twirl of his fingers motioning around the room. 

As you followed with your gaze, you noticed that indeed he was right. “Well, it is wonderful to me you…” You trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name. 

“Loki, Pleasure to meet you, my lady.” 

“My name is Y/N,” You responded with a wide grin. “Do you come here often, Loki?” 

“Yes, I do find myself here quite often.” He nodded. 

“I do as well.” You agreed, rubbing your hands around your arms. You were not chilly, but under his intensity you felt as though your veins were made of lightning bolts, but also exceedingly vulnerable, like he was peering into your soul. What scared you most was not that he quite possibly had the capability of such a thing, but what he might find once he did.  Did he like what he saw? Why do you care? You were not quite sure, you knew it was irrational, but part of you knew that whatever binded lovers together, was weaving your lives together. 

You ended up talking for the rest of the day. Once it had shifted well into the evening, you finally realized the world outside of your little bubble.

Loki was absolutely wonderful. He was brilliant, he exuded such care in developing his intellect. He was quite funny, his jokes were not of the dumb pun type humor most men liked to exhibit while talking to women. Loki’s jokes were witty and well-timed, they were truly laughable. He also seemed to be delighted in making you laugh, always trying to draw out as many of your giggles as possible. 

You were familiar with his existence, a very smart girl like you would know at least a few things in relation to him thanks to what the humans called norse mythology. He was always portrayed as cunningly evil and selfish, only using his magic and other talents for his gain and benefit. 

In addition, it was quite a large deal when the TVA started pursuing him as a variant, even more so when Morbius convinced him to work with them. The employees couldn’t believe how Loki was able to make such a large character switch. 

You were not like them. You knew you didn’t know his story which would have most likely explained his actions thusly, and that there had to be more to the god then just the human legends. In a few short hours were proven correct and you couldn’t be more thrilled, and possibly beginning to fall in love. 

As you two made your way out of the library, there was a nervous silence blanketing over you both. 

You hoped he enjoyed his time with you and found you as likable as you found him to be. Once you made it to the double doors, Loki, ever the gentleman he was raised to be, opened it for you before following you out. After locking the door, you turned to face him. 

You did not anticipate the space between the two of you and turned to find him only a few inches from yourself. You could feel his warmth breathe fanning across your lips, before his fingers brushed yours causing a zing to run up your arm. 

You stood like this for a few seconds before he moved his hands to tilt your chin up so you would be forced to look him in the eyes. 

“I thoroughly enjoyed our time together, darling.” he said before interlacing his fingers with yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. “I hope to see you again.” 

“Really?” you looked at him quite shocked, “I wasn’t sure if you liked me.” 

“Quite the contrary I am afraid…” He whispered his face moving close enough to feel a ghost touch of his lips,your eyes searching him for any sign of deception. “I am quite taken with you. You are intelligent, kind, bright, and the most beautiful woman I have had the privilege of knowing in my thousand years of living.” He admitted to you and you felt your heart race. Is this really happening? Surely you were dreaming. 

“May I kiss you?”  he almost pleaded with you, as if he would not breathe any longer without it.

“Please.” You practically begged, and if it was anyone else, you probably would have felt shame, but you couldn’t not in this moment and certainly not with him. He has only existed in your world for a short time and he has surely ruined the ability for anyone else to try their way into it now. 

He looked into your eyes searching for any hesitation, finding none, he finally pressed his lips against yours. If Loki was not holding your chin in his fingertips, you would have been convinced that this was a dream. His mouth was soft and tasted of cinnamon and sugar and slotted so perfectly with yours, a perfect fit, like they were molded intentionally with the thought of the other in mind. He brought his free arm to wrap around your waist gripping your hip tightly, pulling you as close as physically possible. 

The sudden movement,  warranting a gasp from you as you pressed your palms against his firm suit clad chest. 

Loki used this opportunity to sneakily slide his tongue into your parted mouth, pressing his warm tongue against yours. 

As the kiss intensified your hands moved to his neck twirling the tendrils which had curled down his nap. 

The kiss lasted several moments before you both reluctantly pulled away for air, both of your swollen lips gasping in huge gulps into your depraved lungs. Loki tilted his head down to press his forehead against yours resting in the bliss of this moment. 

Finally, you both pulled away. Loki bringing both of his hands to intertwine with yours, “I would very much like to see you again, Perhaps a date, if that pleases you?” he asked you hopefully. 

You smiled up at him allowing him to relax just a smidge. Standing up on your tiptoes, you brushed your lips against his once more before answering his question with, “Yes, I would be delighted, Loki!” 

You wanted to bottle up the look Loki gave you as a response. You wanted to hide it away from others so it was only something for yourself to see whenever you please. His mouth stretched into such a beautiful grin causing his eyes to sparkle in pure happiness. 

Silently he offered you his arm, which you gladly took. He curiously accompanied you home and after bidding eachother a goodnight with another kiss you, closed the door, leaning against it for a few moments to catch your breath. 

You wished you could find yourself at the time of the date wishing to already see Loki once again. This budding relationship with Loki was going to be life-altering, you could feel it, and you could not be more excited for the memories of the life that awaits you.

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

Dating Loki Headcanons

As a Midgardian...

Loki is cold, cruel and cunning. He pretends that he doesn't like anyone and is emotionless, and he was the same with you too.

But as he got to know you, he fell for you.

You had been in love with the God of Mischief for ages and finally worked up the courage to ask him out.

Loki agreed to go on a date with you.

In the beginning of your relationship, he was closed-off and cold but later, he would talk to you about everything.

Expect pranks and jokes at all times, but he'd do nothing that can actually harm you.

He loves shopping for clothes and shoes for you. They're always the expensive ones, something which you by yourself would never even think of buying.

But they're all green. He loves it when you're studded in his colour, and makes a face when you refuse to wear green.

Loki has a calm, soothing voice and loves to read to you before bed. You love hearing his voice before falling asleep on his chest.

He often has nightmares, and whenever he does have them, he wakes up silently but covered in cold sweat. He doesn't want to disturb you, but you wake up anyway and always comfort him, not wanting him to feel like he's alone.

Whenever you have nightmares, he'll hold you tight against himself and start humming a song for you to calm you down.

He's afraid to get physical with you or do any physical activity with you really. He thinks he'll hurt you, and though you insist that you're stronger than what he thinks, he's still very careful.

But he will find other ways to show you that he loves you.

If anyone tries to hurt you, they're done. They'll find themselves stabbed to death.

He doesn't understand why you're so worried about money. It's a fickle concept to him.

Loki loves to watch you cook. You're good at cooking -and if you weren't- he'd still watch you. Because you doing anything at all is interesting to him.

He's extremely possessive. At public events, he'd always have an arm around you or he'd be holding your hand. He'd also insist that you wear green so that people know you're his.

Loki's not one-sided. He stays away from women who are interested in him romantically - or anyone who can cause problems in your relationship - but if someone does try to flirt with him, he rejects them politely and if they still don't listen, he kisses you in front of everyone, to tell them who he belongs to.

Loki's afraid of hurting you, but more than that, he's afraid of scaring you. That's the reason why he has never shown his frost giant form to you.

Eventually, you insisted and he revealed his true form. You were a little scared but mostly stared in wonder because the patterns and texture of his blue skin were beautiful.

You love playing with Loki's hair, and he tries to show you that he hates it, but on the inside, he loves it.

Your friends and the Avengers have tried to warn you about Loki, thinking that he'd hurt you. But after seeing that he loves you, they backed off.

Loki knows what other people think of him, many still don't trust him, while some outright hate him, but he could care less. He only cares about your opinion.

Loki only seems perfect, and even when he's a god, he's like a human. You love him for his imperfections, and wouldn't want anyone else in his place.

Masterlist

[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.

@lokistoriesblog @hyperlokilover @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @simplyholl @lokidokieokie @mjsthrillernp @violethaze @dryyoursaltyoceantears @loz-3 @commanding-officer @stupidthoughtsinwriting @high-functioning-lokipath @jaidenhawke @lokiandbuckysdoll @littlespaceyelf @lastlovesong17 @ladyofthestayingpower @homesickloki @glitterylokislut @avoliax @yelkmelk @mayjaysthots @buttercupcookies-blog @differenttyphoonwerewolf @her-glorious-purpose @nate-ate-hate @chantsdemarins @ladymischief11 @usagishira @princess-asgard @honeyg19 @goblingirlsarah @cabingrlandrandomcrap @mochie85 @silverfire475 @smolvenger @loki-laufeyson-1054 @marygoddessofmischief @animnerd @texmexdarling @fictive-sl0th @jin0x0 @vbecker10 @eleniblue @lady-rose-moon @pics-and-fanfics @kittiowolf210 @kats72 @asgardianprincess1050 @crimson25

[saber-monet]

[lizzyiii]

His Darling Masterlist

summary | after the events of season 1, loki and mobius track down a runaway TVA analyst who disappeared from the timeline. to their surprise, they find you thriving as a famous singer, living a life of glamour far removed from the TVA.

as they seek your help to fix the branching crisis, loki becomes increasingly intrigued by you, sensing a strange and nagging familiarity he can’t quite place. what begins as a mission to recruit you quickly evolves into something more as he tries to uncover the connection that ties the two of you together.

warnings | following season 2s plot, fluff, angst, friends to lovers (kind of destined soulmates a bit), a bit of sylvie bashing (lol sorry not sorry), mobius bashing too, reader really just doesn't gaf abt any of them, and will call them out each and every time.

a/n | first loki fic (welp actually not, I have lots in my notes) but published. kind of imagined this random prompt this morning, lolll

taglist | if you'd like to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC

i do not own any character from the marvel cinamatic universe, except the reader (which is you)

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 4

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 7 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10

[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.

See my Masterlist Here

“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.

Tags

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[sarahscribbles]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝.

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤: 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐.𝟓𝐤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You know you’ve danced with the devil before you even enter your bedroom.

The double doors to the room are shut, but Loki’s displeasure seems to permeate from within, making the air in the hallway feel heavy and sending your heart thundering within your chest. He hadn’t appreciated the little game of cat and mouse that you had initiated at Nat’s birthday party - something that was all too clear when he skulked from the room an hour ago - and now you’re left to wonder if you’ve sorely miscalculated by trying to play the God of Mischief at his own game.

You had only wished to provoke him into some angry sex against the nearest horizontal surface - and maybe again against a flat one for good measure - but now? Now, you’re running through a list of what might be waiting for you on the other side of the doors

Loki, afterall, has punished you for less - the thought of which sends a shiver down your spine and a pleasant tingle between your thighs. 

When you finally push open one side of the doors, you step into a room in shadow. The only light in the room comes from the twin lamps that adorn your separate bedside cabinets, but it’s enough to see Loki sat in the chair by the bottom of the bed. One long leg is crossed over the other and a book is lying open across his lap, though you know he isn’t reading it. He doesn’t look up at the sound of the door snapping closed in the latch, or at your footsteps on the wooden floors. 

Oh. 

His silence is unnerving and makes your stomach flip in excited trepidation. He knows exactly what he’s doing in dragging this out, knows exactly how to play with your mind as expertly as he plays with your body. His soul is bound to yours, and it’s one thing he’ll always use to his advantage. 

It’s only when you begin to noticeably fidget that he decides to speak. 

“I do hope you didn’t leave the party because of me, darling.” You hear his deep voice purr while attempting to unbuckle the strap of your heels. It doesn’t budge no matter what you do, and you’re suddenly very aware of the heavy weight of Loki’s gaze resting on you. “No. They stay on.”

A brief pulse of irritation surges through you. “Loki, it’s been hours. I need -,” you begin, but the sound of his book slamming closed silences you instantly. 

Oh shit.

“It has been hours,” he replies, his voice deadly but still smooth as silk. “Hours since I last saw you at the beginning of the celebrations. Now, why would that be?”

Your painted lips quirk in the beginning of a smile, but you’re quick to bite it back. “I was only playing the game that you’re always to eager to start, my prince,” you reply sweetly, making sure to flutter your eyelashes at him. 

Loki’s gaze doesn’t leave you, and the brat slowly awakening inside you refuses to back down. You raise an eyebrow and you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“I wasn’t in the mood for games, darling,” he says quietly. “I had an entire evening planned for you. One that would only end when your voice was hoarse.” 

That same tingle of anticipation, of promise, sizzles to life between your thighs again and sets your blood on fire. 

“Maybe if you had worn a different suit I might have been interested,” you reply breezily, not missing the slight narrowing of his eyes. 

“By all means, continue to be a brat, darling. You’re only succeeding in prolonging your punishment.” His voice wraps around soft as velvet, but with just enough of an edge that you know he means it. 

“Oh, no! What are you going to do, Loki? Fuck me into the mattress? Please, have mercy!” you tease him because you love nothing more than digging your own grave. 

Loki lifts the book from his lap - an elaborate hardcover that you bought him the previous Christmas - and lets it fall from his hands to the floor, the resounding thump echoing that of your own heartbeat.

“Over here. Now,” he says.

The commanding timbre of his voice lights a fire in your veins - he’s fully committed to being dominant tonight, but, unfortunately for him, you’re equally committed to being a brat. 

His eyes roam over you as you cross the room, taking in every inch - or lack of inches - on the little black dress you’re wearing. He doesn’t stop until his eyes reach your feet, still locked in your heels by his magic, and you swear you see the bastard smirk. 

Loki leans back in the chair, spreading his thighs obscenely wide while he rests one elbow on the armrest. The other is dangling loosely over the side as he appraises you like you’re a prized portrait he’s considering purchasing. 

It’s predatory and hungry, but it only makes your cunt throb. 

Elegant fingers toy with his lips as he continues to watch you, but they don’t hide the smirk that’s only grown across his handsome face. “I thought you had realised by now, darling,” he purrs, shifting his hips so you can see the faint bulge at the front of his trousers. “You don’t stand a chance of ever winning these little games.”

“Who said the game is over?” you reply, surprised at how sassy you’ve managed to sound. 

Loki’s eyes smoulder as he looks at you, a roaring flame of arousal and determination reflected back at you. The intoxicating feeling of seeing so clearly what you do to him is something you’ll never grow tired of. 

“Me,” he says simply.

It’s one word, one tiny word, but it squashes out any remaining push back that was in you. The game is over and you lost. 

You feel a sudden pressure at your back, enough to startle you before you realise he’s using his seidr to push you towards him. Each step is one that’s out of your control, and you hit his knees at the same time he reaches out to easily maneuver you across them, resting a strong arm across your upper back to hold you in place. 

“God of Overreacting much?” you huff quietly, something that earns you a firm smack to your ass. You’re still covered by the soft material of your dress, so it doesn’t hurt much, just enough to make you fall silent.

For now.

Loki’s cool fingers dance along your bare thigh, back and forth, back and forth, sending a pleasant tingle shooting through your lower stomach. His touch has the power to both ground you and excite you, it’s comforting and electrifying.

It’s Loki.

“Are you going to continue being a brat? Or are you going to take your punishment like a good girl?” he asks quietly.

Those sinful fingers are still ghosting over your skin in a silent threat, almost daring you to give a contrary answer. “I’ll be good,” you answer because, truthfully, what other choice do you have?

Loki releases a hum of approval. “Good girl,” he purrs, using one skilled hand to slide the hem of your dress over the swell of your ass. “Nothing underneath, darling? My, my, what were you hoping for this evening?” 

He’s given you the perfect opening, one that you can’t pass up even though you know you’ll regret it. Loki will make sure of that. “To see if what everyone says about Bucky’s metal arm is true,” you reply. 

You know you’ve waved a red flag to a bull, and it’s only confirmed when Loki’s hand comes down again in a decidedly harder smack. This time, it’s enough to make you hiss quietly in pain. 

“Continue to be a brat and you’ll have no release tonight. Understood?” His tone is firm, leaving no doubt that he will deny you if you push him any further.

With your orgasm potentially on the line, you’re quick to answer him. “Yes, Loki,” you reply obediently, submissively. 

Above you, all you can hear is the deep, steady sound of his breathing and the barely perceptible rustle of his clothing. The uncertainness is tantalisingly teasing, especially with how his hand is slowly caressing your ass in a wordless promise of what’s to come. 

It’s enough to have you clenching desperately around air. 

“How many, darling, hmm?” he asks finally, mischief dripping like honey from every syllable. 

It’s a cruel game he plays with you. If you guess too low, he’ll double your answer, but if you guess too high, he’ll call you his little masochist and follow through gladly. 

Because Loki can be a bastard when the mood strikes him. 

“Ten?” you answer slowly, feeling your heart thudding in your chest with anticipation. 

There’s a beat of silence after you speak, long enough that a cold fear begins to weave through you. You’ve guessed too low. You played it safe and any second you’re going to hear that velvet laugh of his before he mocks you.

Maybe, if he’s feeling particularly sadistic, he’ll make you beg for more. 

When he finally speaks, you release a quiet breath of relief. “Ten aside? I’m inclined to agree with you, dove,” he concedes. 

You bite your tongue. You hadn’t meant ten aside, but you know he’s being merciful, and you’re in no position to tease the dragon tonight. You swallow a whimper and brace for the force of his hand, but as the seconds keep ticking by, it still doesn’t come. He’s playing with you, making you wonder and wait, so that when his hand lands firm and fast against your ass, you can’t help the sharp shriek of shock that escapes you. 

“Count, darling,” Loki warns. “And remember to thank me.” 

You take a breath, steadying yourself now that the initial shock is waning. “One. Thank you, Loki.” 

Your ass stings in the aftermath, crying out for Loki’s cool soothing touch, but he refuses to give you it. Instead, his skilled fingers dip between your thighs to expertly tease your clit. 

“Good girl,” he praises you, all while you’re quietly moaning at how good his touch feels, even going so far as to try and spread your legs. Loki only chuckles. “I don’t think so, darling,” he teases and removes his hand. 

A mewl of discontent slips past your lips before you can stop it. “Please, Loki,” you plead, rocking your hips against his knees in a vain search for friction. 

He doesn’t answer nor entertain your plea, instead only brings his hand down sharply again. The sound of flesh hitting flesh seems to echo around the room, but it doesn’t mask the sound of your pained groan. 

“Two. Thank you, Loki,” you hastily find your voice. It hurts more than you thought it would, but you’re also wetter than you thought you would be. 

His little masochist indeed.

The next few are rained down so rapidly that you don’t get even a second to recover. They’re swift and so firm that you won’t be surprised if there’s an outline of Loki’s hand on your ass tomorrow morning. He isn’t going easy on you tonight, and it doesn’t take long until your ass is burning and the occasional tear is slipping down your cheeks.

He pauses after seven to let you catch your breath, blessedly caressing your skin to soothe the burn, though you know without a doubt he’s taking the time to admire his handiwork. The coolness of his touch feels so heavenly that you’re almost whining when it leaves to dip back between your thighs. 

“You’re doing so well, dove. I’m very proud of you,” he murmurs gently, teasing your clit until the first faint stirrings of an orgasm begin to lurch to life. “Only three more, but, I must warn you, they’ll be the most difficult.” 

Just like that, his fingers are gone, and you have to fight the overpowering urge to beg for him. As much as he enjoys it, you know he won’t waver tonight. You release a breath and nod, only partially hearing Loki’s “good girl” before his hand connects with your ass again. The force of it is enough to make you cry out and grit your teeth.

It also makes the ache between your thighs multiply tenfold. 

“Eight. Thank you, Loki,” you say shakily. It stings so bad, but you’re determined to see it out to the end. You’re determined to be his good girl. 

His hand leaves again, only to land with equal force on the same spot as before. Your ass has never hurt so badly. 

“Fuck!” You curl your hands into fists and groan. “Nine. Thank you, Loki.” 

You wait nervously for the final one. You know he’s going to make it the worst, the one that will likely leave a colourful bruise in its wake, and the anticipation has your stomach doing summersaults. 

But when that final smack comes, it’s barely more than a love tap to your ass. 

Your entire body deflates gratefully. “Ten. Thank you, Loki,” you finish. 

As quickly as it started, your punishment is over. The heavy weight of Loki’s arm is lifting from your upper back and he’s easily gathering you up and twisting you around so you’re straddling him. Without a word, he’s wiping the last of your tears away with the soft pads of his thumbs. 

“There’s my good girl,” he says softly, now cradling your face in his hands. “I’m so very proud of you, my darling.” 

His praise has a golden warmth bubble happily in your core. Your sore ass is entirely worth it if Loki calls you his good girl. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, love,” you say quietly. You are sorry - you know how quickly Loki’s mind can feed him lies out of something innocent, and you never want to be the source of any of his hurt. 

He hushes you and, before you can draw breath, he’s pulling you into a kiss. It’s slow but hungry, soft but filled with all the raw desire for you that’s pulsating through his blood. You wrap yourself around him easily, twisting your hands into those silky curls and losing yourself to the taste of him. 

Your god, your Loki. 

His hands drift to cup your ass, and you can’t stop the grateful hum against his lips at that soothing coolness. It’s something that Loki doesn’t miss, and you feel him smile into your kiss. 

“Would you rather this? Or would you rather I reward you for your exemplary behaviour?” he teases, smirking wickedly at you as his hands continue running over your ass. 

You pretend to think. “What does this reward entail?” you ask coyly. 

“It entails you and I in that bed for the next few hours,” he says, leaning in to begin placing tiny kisses along the column of your neck.

You hum while his lips continue to travel along your neck and across your collarbone. “I’ll take it.”

[totally-not-niyah]

Arranged Marriage - Part Two

(felt like the gif was really fitting for the ending scene of this) - Pairing: Loki x Reader Notes: Here it is! The significantly better, longer, second part of my arranged marriage story :) this one capped at 4k+ words and it's lowk one of my best works to date imo <3

=

Never in your life did you ever think you’d be excited at the prospect of marriage, especially one you never chose to have in the first place. 

But now, here you were, waiting in the gardens for your betrothed, the second son of the king of Asgard, Loki Odinson. 

In the couple of weeks you had known Loki, you felt yourself growing more and more attached to his person. There was always this lightness in your body whenever the two of you were together, like he was lifting your heart, even with just his smile. 

Everything about him was amazing. His kindness, the way he carried himself, the occasional mischievous glint in his eye whenever he’d get ready to do something silly and send you both into laughing fits afterwards. Just his overall company made you happy. 

You couldn’t help but notice a tight feeling in your chest whenever you were with him, like a feeling being caged inside, yet trying to make its way into the light. It reminded you of the stories your mother used to tell you about her and your father before he passed, how it was a sign that she was in love with him. 

But it was too early to be in love with Loki, wasn’t it? 

“There you are.” 

You pushed the thought aside as you heard that familiar voice, turning around to see the same man you were just pondering over. 

“I was wondering if you’d ever show up,” you said with a teasing smile. “Apologies, darling,” he said with a small laugh. “I lost track of time in the library.”

“I thought you said you’ve read every book in there?” 

“Oh, I have! But you haven’t.” After he says those words, you watch as he pulls out a couple different books from behind his back and presents them to him. “I…figured maybe I could read my favorites to you.” 

You tilted your head to the side, your lips curling upwards even further as you felt your heart fluttering. 

“Really? That sounds fun.” 

Loki seemed to share the same excited manner as you did, eagerly taking the seat beside you on the bench when you patted it. 

He let you pick the first choice, to which you chose one with a dull blue cover, the two of you sitting together peacefully as the sun gleamed down on your bodies. 

Loki’s voice was gentle yet accentuated as he read to you, and you conclude in your head that you could fall asleep every night just by listening to the soothing sound of his voice. 

Norns, you really were bad for this man, weren’t you? 

Unfortunately, your peaceful little bubble was broken when a guard came rushing forward, bowing his head as he approached your view. 

“My lady, I’m very sorry, but your mother has urgently requested your presence.”

You sighed inwardly at the news, feeling your muscles tense in preparation for the encounter you knew was coming. If she was urgently searching for you, it couldn’t have been anything good. 

“Of course,” you sighed, standing up from the bench and giving Loki an apologetic look. “Will you wait for me?” “Or, better yet, I could accompany you.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, grabbing his hand. “Oh, you’re a lifesaver, let’s go.” 

=

“Mother?” you called, pushing open the large golden doors. “You’re looking for me?” 

“(Y/n), there you are,” she said. “I know this is very last minute, but we must travel back home, we have some things to discuss with the royal advisory before we finish planning your wedding.” 

The words made your shoulders slump in disappointment. “But do I have to go? You handle all of the advisory meetings by yourself, anyways.”

“Yes, but dear, those things were never about your wedding,” she stresses, giving you a look that told you there is no way to get out of this. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we come back, yes?” 

You give her a reluctant nod. “Right.” You then turn to look at Loki. “I'm sorry…for cutting our day together short.” 

“There's no need to worry,” he said with an understanding smile, taking one of your hands in his. “Here.” 

His free hand lifted up slightly, and a green light began to emit from his palm until it materialized the book he was reading to you earlier. 

“You can write to me while you're away. Tell me what you think when you've finished.” 

You felt your face getting warmer, but you hoped at least it wasn't showing. 

“I will,” you told him, nodding your head in confirmation. The two of you just stood like that in silence for a while, like both of you wanted to do something, but at the same time, wanted to see if the other would jump at it instead. The staring went on for so long that your mother had to clear her throat to break up the eye contact. 

“Right,” you murmured, blinking and looking away. “I'll see you again soon?”

“Very soon, darling,” he promised. 

And so you traveled back home with your mother, anticipating the moment you would see your betrothed again. 

Being in your home realm took longer than you thought. 

You never realized how much planning actually goes into a wedding, not to mention that because both families involved in the marriage party are of importance, and for the future alliance of kingdoms, for some reason, everything had to be incredibly extravagant. 

By the end of every night, you were wiped out. Even so, you made an effort to read at least half of a chapter of Loki’s book every single night, and write notes about different parts of it to share with him in a letter. 

The letter writing exchange helps you feel closer to Loki without actually being close. Although it takes time for the both of you to receive, read, write, and send back another letter in reply, it was nice to still get to talk to him despite the distance. 

You talked about nearly everything occurring in your life and realm. Like how a noble had invented something called “Pigeon Gossip” where one person writes in a scroll about the latest drama, mass produces it, and sends it on dozens of pigeons for all to know. That was his favorite one, and you promised him that you’d try to get Pigeon Gossip more known in Asgard.

Eventually, though, as the writing progressed, you'd found out through one of his letters that Loki had been struggling mentally. You worried, of course, and would always try to send him a positive message back, especially since you couldn't be there to help. He never mentioned what exactly it was that he was struggling with, and you never tried to push for answers, just tried to help him through it. 

And then he was better, which you were thrilled to hear. The letters continued on as normal, and the two of you continued your usual conversations. 

But then they stopped.

When your letter went unanswered for more than a week it gave you concerns, and when it went on to a month you decided to write again.

And again.

And again.

You couldn't figure out an answer as to why the letters stopped so abruptly. And, to add to your 'luck,’ you still weren't able to leave your home realm to investigate. Even still, you wanted to know that he was okay. 

So you wrote one last letter. 

And to your delight, it was answered, but it was short lived.

Reading over the words, your mind went blank and you could feel your heart shatter. Tears came to your eyes as you reread it twice.

Three times.

Four.

And every time, it was the same writing. 

The letter came, not from Loki, but from his parents, the king and queen of Asgard, to inform you that Loki had passed weeks ago. They expressed their sadness and condolences to you, and unsurprisingly, a tear or two fell onto the paper as your eyes skimmed over the words for a final time.

As you felt the burn of repressed sobs in your throat, you finally let it go. Hot tears came streaming down your face as realization fully hit you, and you moved the parchment away from you to keep it out of the line of fire - or rather, water.

Too wrapped up in the sudden news, you failed to hear your mother enter your room until her voice was more audible. 

“(Y/n), we've been looking for you, we need to discuss-” 

She cuts her statement short when she notices your tear stained face, and the way your eyes are blank, as if you're trying to inwardly suppress something, but the evidence is still clear as day. 

Her tone of voice is gentle as she walks towards you, kneeling down beside you. 

“Sweetheart, what's wrong?” she asks. 

For the first time since she's been inside the room, you finally look her in the eyes. 

Your voice was strained as you spoke and more tears escaped your eyes. Clearing your throat, which did next to nothing, you choked out, “He’s gone.”

There was a long air of silence between the two of you, like she was looking for the words to say. Eventually, she just puts a gentle hand on your back and sighs, “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

You let out more shaky breaths then furrowed your brows at her, “You…You already knew, didn’t you?”

Her silence answered for her. 

You got up angrily, sliding the wooden chair across the floor with a harsh noise, “I cannot believe you right now.”

“Y/N I can explain-”

“NO. YOU COULD HAVE TOLD ME THIS WEEKS AGO. BUT YOU DIDN’T.”

She walked up to you cautiously with her hands raised in front of her, “I didn’t know you just now got the news, Y/N, I promise you. I hadn’t said anything about it because I wanted to give you time to grieve.”

Scoffing, you turned back to her, “You thought I was sending letters to a ghost as a coping mechanism or something? Who thinks that?”

“Listen, some people find different ways to grieve over someone they cared about,” she reasons. “I just…you seemed like everything was normal, I thought maybe you were just trying to forget about it or something. It should've been obvious that you didn't know, and I'm sorry, but… there's not much else for me to say.” 

There was too much overwhelming information going on for you to fully process at one time, so your mother, after another soft spoken apology, left you with your thoughts and feelings. 

Unfortunately, it didn't last long. 

With about maybe 3 days to cope, your mother came with some news that you were less than happy to hear. 

As your door creaked open you pushed down your quilt to see who came in, rolling your eyes at who you saw. “Have you come with more news that’s a month late? You’re slower than most Pigeon Gossip.”

As she stayed silent, you sat up, your hair an unruly mess but you couldn’t care less, “What is it now?”

She cleared her throat and slowly looked at you, “I’m afraid that, even though Loki is gone, the treaty between our realm and Asgard must go on.”

Your eyes widened as you realized what she meant and you rapidly shook your head negatively. “No, no. You are not having me marry Thor!”

“There is no other way, young lady! You will marry the prince of Asgard and that is that!” She yelled, stomping out of your room and closing the door with a loud slam.

You felt like your life was slowly falling apart as the hours went by. 

You thought nothing bad of Thor, truly, he was as kind as they come, but he wasn't the one you wanted to marry. And although you tried explaining that to your mother at a later time, she ignored your pleas for the simple excuse that your realm needed this alliance, and that it was your duty to see it through. 

It felt like when you first found out the news of an arranged marriage all over again. 

Even worse, when the two of you returned to Asgard, you and the eldest son of Odin– per your mother's request– found yourselves on a date to “get better acquainted with one another.” 

You were less than thrilled. 

The afternoon spent together was filled with awkward silence and weird glances, and when one of you decided to occasionally bite the bullet and ask a question, it was short worded replies before the silence continued. 

Eventually, though, Thor brought up the cause of the barrier of silence in the first place. 

“...I wanted to express my condolences on behalf of my brother,” he said. “I could tell you care for him, despite the circumstances and the…short amount of time you spent together.” 

You didn't verbally reply, instead offering him a faint nod of appreciation. The whole situation hurt, but even still, there was one question lingering in the back of your mind. 

“...How did he die?” 

Thor's gaze casts downwards at the memories of the events leading up to the death of his late brother. 

“There were a few secrets…family issues that caused a rift between our family,” he began to explain. “Loki took it hard. He struggled with the discoveries. And then our home was invaded by frost giants. We tried to fight them off, but Loki wasn't entirely focused, and…” 

He didn't want to say the rest, knowing it was self explanatory regardless. You didn't have a good reply to offer, so you just remained silent, allowing that information to sink in. 

It's only more uncomfortable after that. 

Conversations form between the two of you every now and then, but it's nothing more than the basic, bland topics. Even so, only two or three sentences between each of you pass before that thick silence takes its place again. 

You didn't want to seem rude, but you weren't up for this. You were still emotionally coping, not to mention the overwhelming prospect of being forced to marry the brother of your late betrothed. 

 Eventually, the two of you stop to sit in the middle of the flower field, just taking in the atmosphere. It relaxes you a little, seeing as your shoulders are no longer as tight and drawn in. 

After a while of quiet, Thor pipes up. 

“My lady, I think you and I can both agree that this arrangement is rather…” 

“Disappointing? Absurd? Soon?” You listed off multiple possibilities to complete his sentence. 

“Something along those lines, yes,” he chuckles a little, which lightens the mood. “I declined, out of respect for both you and my brother, but… our kingdoms must unite.” 

“So you mean there's nothing we can do?” You didn’t even need him to answer that, not with the way his face effortlessly did so on its own. 

Shoulders slumping, defeat slowly washes over you in agonizing waves. You felt just like you had when this arrangement was first conceived — once again unwilling, and yet, without choice.

Despite knowing the odds were not in your favor, you fought hard, in any way you could. You attempted to convince them to delay the wedding for a while longer, but the All-Father and his queen could tell there was more to your continuous requests, and that, below the surface, you truly had no desire to be wed to their eldest son. 

In light of this, Odin summons both you and your mother to the throne room one afternoon. The date of this marriage was inching closer with every passing moment, which meant that the outcome of this meeting would determine your permanent fate. 

When you heard the king tell you that you had the power to call off the wedding if you so desired (considering the circumstances), you were absolutely thrilled. 

But, as it turns out, you were the only one who was. 

Your mother was downright hysterical at the idea of ending the whole arrangement when the date was so close in timing. Before you could even get the words out of your mouth to reply, she cuts in and does it for you. 

“No! The arrangement shall go on, like it was meant to. She’ll do it.” 

Face falling at her declaration, your feet are quick to assume their place beside her. 

“What? But, Mother, no…-” 

“She’ll do it,” her voice is firm, like she’s establishing that you have no say in the matter, leaving you powerless to her once more. “Because she knows how important this is. How beneficial this will be for all of us once the wedding is seen through.” 

As if to add salt to the wound, she turns her head, expectant gaze boring holes into you. 

“Isn’t that right, dear?”

Eyes trained on the floorboards below, you sigh, biting your tongue to avoid saying anything more that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. 

“...I’ll do it.” 

The royals seated on their thrones take a look at both you and your mother, as if they’re hesitant to make a decision, but soon enough, the All-Father speaks.

“Very well. The arrangement will be seen through, and the wedding will go on.” 

And there it was. Your one chance. 

Now it’s gone.

=

The day of the wedding soon arrived, faster than you would’ve liked. 

You had the commotion of the guests of both your home and of Asgard, the chatter amongst each other surrounding the occasion they were attending. 

You sat in one of the rooms close to the ballroom, being fussed over by the female servants as they went around, fixing your dress, adding flowers to your hair, and overall ensuring you looked your best for what was to be the most important day of your life. 

Maybe it would’ve had more meaning if Loki was still here. 

After what felt like forever, the ladies were finally done, and your mother entered the room, stopping to look at you. 

“Look at you!” she says, her voice overly cheery, which you hate to admit sent a hint of irritation through you. “You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you replied politely, offering her a tight lipped smile. She comes to stand beside you, looking through the tall mirror you stood in front of. 

“I know this isn’t very…conventional for you, my dear. But…don’t disappoint me.” 

As if there wasn’t enough pressure on you now as it is. It wasn’t about just disappointing her, either. You knew that if you did anything now to cancel this marriage, you’d be looked down on by both your mother and the people of your kingdom. Perhaps even the people of Asgard. 

“Of course not.” The words tasted bitter in your mouth, even more so as you gave yourself a critical glance in the mirror. 

Satisfied with your answer, your mother guides the servants out the door with her, giving you a few moments to yourself before the ceremony begins. 

Looking out the large window, you felt that ache in your chest again. It was just like the one you felt before you left Asgard, left Loki. 

But this time, there was something more to it. Something like…longing? 

You longed for him to return to you. You wished it to every bright star in the night sky as you counted down the days before this had to happen. 

And still, your desires were unmet, leaving you with a hole in your heart. 

That’s when you knew you loved Loki. And your only regret about it was that you couldn’t come to terms with that feeling until after he died. 

A knock on the door pulls you from your storm of thoughts, and you quickly wipe away the tears that strayed down your cheeks before calling the person it. 

It was one of the other servants, alerting you that it was finally time. You followed her out of the room and into the hall, where you had to stand until your name was announced. 

Once you actually started coming down the aisle, it felt like you were being held together by a thin cord. Your legs wobbled with every step, although going unnoticed to the guests thanks to the lower layers of your dress. 

But this place, this room in particular, it reminded you of meeting Loki, dancing with him on the night of your betrothal, the soft smiles and lingering looks the two of you shared—everything was overwhelming your senses all at once, leaving your stomach feeling queasy. 

Finally meeting Thor and standing beside him, you both offered each other smiles; yours was forced, while his was meant to offer you some form of comfort. 

Your head was barely there as you listened to the All-Father’s speech, eyes darting around subtly, glancing at all the people behind you who were watching intently. 

And…maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, but you were almost certain you saw a shimmer of green just outside the window. 

Heart skipping a beat, you let your eyes linger on the view outside for a moment longer, but the longer you watched, the more you told yourself to snap out of it, that nothing was ever there in the first place. 

You force yourself to focus in just in time, because now the king is addressing you.

“And do you, Lady (Y/n), take Thor Odinson of Asgard, to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

You freeze up, mouth open as if to say something, but the words seem to fail to materialize in your brain so that they can come out. 

“Um, I…” 

Just as you get ready to force out your answer, the large golden doors to the ballroom open up with a heavy thud, along with a pair of footsteps rushing to meet the altar. 

“Wait!!” 

Your stomach both flips and drops at the familiar voice, and as he gets closer, you see his face for what felt like the first time in forever. 

He’s alive. Loki is alive. 

“Loki…?” You have to say his name out loud, to hear him respond, to make sure this isn’t all some cruel trick you’ve conceived for yourself to get through this dreadful event. Emerald green eyes meet yours, filled with both relief and happiness as he starts to smile. 

The guests gasp and murmur amongst themselves, but all either of you can focus on is each other. Loki continues hurrying over to get to you, and you grab the large skirts of your dress to meet him halfway, colliding with him in a rushed embrace. 

He picks you up, arms tight around your waist as he spins you in a circle.

You say his name again, your voice trembling as it comes out in a mixture of a laugh and a sob, your tear-glazed gaze looking over him while your hands hold his face in a delicate manner. His hands release your waist, setting you back down on your feet, letting his touch trail up to your upper arms. 

“You’re… you’re alive,” comes your quiet observation, watery smile forming on your lips. 

“I’m alive,” he responds, ducking down to rest his forehead against yours. “I’m here, darling.” 

“But how? They said-… You’re supposed to be-”

However, he’s a lot more interested in you than in answering your blossoming inquiries, which you soon realize when he gently cradles the back of your head, pulling you ever closer until he’s within range to kiss you, his soft lips aligning perfectly with yours. 

Every circuit in your body completely shorts out for a second, as you finally experienced what you’ve only dreamed of for the longest time. You start coming to, melting into the sensation of your lips brushing together, before you pull apart, and inevitably return for more, unable to untangle yourselves from the other. 

It takes the approach of footsteps behind you for the both of you to separate, turning around to face your lover’s family, who look just as surprised as you feel. 

“…Loki?” His brother is the first to say something. “How is this possible? I…I watched you die. You fell off into space.” 

The raven-haired man gives the blond a small smile, reaching a hand on to grip his brother’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. 

“Come on,” he drawls. “What did you expect?” 

You watch as Thor’s bewildered face shifts into one of amusement, letting out a hearty chuckle as he pats Loki on the back before they too embrace each other. 

Queen Frigga approaches her youngest son, taking his hands into her own and smiling warmly. 

“Welcome back,” she says. 

“Thank you, Mother.” 

“Well, then,” Thor begins, turning to you. “Sister, would you give me the honor of handing you off to my brother in marriage?” 

You blink a couple times, surprised by the sudden change of subject. “Wait, what? Now?” 

“Yes! There’s no better time than now!” 

“He’s right, my dear,” his mother agrees, nodding her head. “The ceremony has already started. So then, if you’re still willing to marry our son…”

Locking eyes with Loki again, he carries the same expression that you do. But soon, that look fades, forming into something much softer, a sparkle coming to life. It makes you smile, feeling like you’re on the same page with one another. 

You’d love nothing more than to marry him right now.

[amethystarachnid]

Hello. I’d like to request a Loki x Fem!Reader. Not sure if you’ve seen Step Up 3 but the song Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan was played and basically in the scene the two love interests did a tango (I would look it up for reference 🩷). So maybe Loki and Reader are on an undercover mission and they get tied into a tango. You can interpret it however you want but I’ve had this ask stuck in my head for a while now. Hope you like this! 🩷🩷

BOUND BY DUTY

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, flirty

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: Loki has been called form the S.H.I.E.L.D. to help the Avengers with an anomaly that's happening around the world and you're assigned to be his handler. You were told to not trust him but what if under that mask of indifference there's a man just wishing to be loved?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.7k

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a few hated kisses and flirty comments

ᯓ★ I haven't seen the movie but I've seen the scene on YouTube (like just the 3 minutes ? scene) and really hop you'll like the story

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 inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound feels heavier than usual. It could be the weight of the mission ahead or the fact that the one person who might hold the answers is a literal god—a god of mischief, no less. You’ve been briefed on Loki’s recent exploits, his failed conquest of Earth, and his punishment in Asgard’s dungeons. You know better than to trust him, but you also know that sometimes the devil you know is preferable to the devil you don’t.

Nick Fury has chosen you, of all people, to act as Loki’s handler. You don’t know whether to feel honored or utterly cursed. He claims it’s because of your “unflinching professionalism” and “ability to handle high-pressure situations.” You suspect it’s because most of your colleagues would rather face a firing squad than deal with Loki’s silver tongue.

The sound of the jet door opening draws your attention. You straighten your back and smooth your jacket as two Asgardian guards march down the ramp, their armor gleaming even under the dim hangar lights. Between them walks Loki, his wrists bound in glowing cuffs that hum faintly with suppressed power. He’s wearing his usual dark green attire, though the horned helmet is missing. Without it, his raven-black hair tumbles around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. His piercing blue eyes sweep the room, landing on you.

You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, appraising you. He smirks. Of course, he smirks.

“Agent,” Fury’s voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you slightly. “Take him to interrogation. The guards will brief you on his restraints.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice calm and steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The Asgardian guards exchange a few words with you about Loki’s bindings. They warn you not to let your guard down—ever. You assure them you won’t, though you’re starting to realize that resisting Loki’s words might be a different kind of challenge altogether.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing for Loki to follow you. He arches an eyebrow but complies, falling into step beside you. The guards trail behind at a respectful distance.

The walk to the interrogation room is uncomfortably silent. You’re hyper-aware of Loki’s presence beside you, his tall frame moving with a predatory grace. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been imprisoned for months; he looks like he owns the place, and you’re just a guest in his domain.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. Of course, he does.

“Tell me, Agent,” he begins, his voice smooth and lilting, “do they often send mortals to babysit gods, or am I a special case?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, determined not to rise to the bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Think of me as your parole officer.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost pleasant if you didn’t know better. “And if I were to misbehave, what then? Will you scold me? Perhaps send me to my room without supper?”

His words drip with mockery, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—amusement, maybe even intrigue. You keep your expression neutral. “If you misbehave, you’ll find out just how creative S.H.I.E.L.D. can be when it comes to disciplinary measures.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmurs, and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the way his eyes linger on you. You remind yourself that this is what Loki does: he gets under people’s skin, twists their emotions until they don’t know which way is up. You won’t let him succeed.

The interrogation room is as stark and clinical as you’d expect. A metal table and two chairs sit under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. Loki looks around with mild disdain as if the room itself offends his sensibilities.

“This is where you intend to question me?” he asks, his tone dripping with derision. “How... quaint.”

You motion for him to sit. He doesn’t move immediately, instead watching you with that infuriating smirk. Finally, he lowers himself into the chair with the air of someone granting you a great favor.

The guards secure his bindings to the table before stepping back. You nod at them, and they leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Now it’s just you and Loki. You take the seat across from him, pulling out a tablet with your notes.

“We have reason to believe you have information about a recent incident involving extraterrestrial technology,” you say, your voice steady. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered several devices that match the energy signature of the Tesseract. We need to know where they came from.”

Loki leans back in his chair, the chains on his wrists clinking softly. “Ah, the Tesseract. Such a fascinating little trinket. Tell me, Agent, do you often meddle in matters beyond your comprehension?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply coolly. “It’s about you. And what you know.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And what do I gain from sharing this knowledge? A lighter sentence? A pat on the head? Somehow, I doubt your superiors are feeling particularly charitable toward me.”

“We’re not asking for charity. We’re asking for cooperation. Help us, and we might consider negotiating with Asgard on your behalf.”

Loki’s laughter fills the room, sharp and cold. “Negotiate with Asgard? Oh, how delightfully naive. Do you honestly believe Odin would entertain such an offer? He’d sooner banish me to the farthest reaches of the cosmos than indulge your mortal whims.”

You suppress a sigh, already feeling the weight of this conversation. But then Loki leans forward, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Still,” he says, his voice softer now, almost teasing, “I might be persuaded to cooperate. After all, it would be such a shame to disappoint you.”

There it is again—that deliberate charm, the way he threads his words with just enough sincerity to make you second-guess yourself. You fold your arms, meeting his gaze head-on.

“You don���t intimidate me, Loki.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “Merely... entertain you. Is that not the proper term for what mortals call ‘flirting’?”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your expression neutral. “If this is your idea of flirting, I’m not impressed.”

“Hmm,” he muses, leaning back again. “Perhaps I’ve spent too long among Asgardians. We have a certain... flair for tradition. Shall I compose you a sonnet instead? Or perhaps challenge another suitor to a duel in your honor?”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You quickly school your features, but not before Loki notices. His smirk widens.

“There it is,” he says, his tone triumphant. “A crack in the armor. I knew you weren’t entirely immune to my charms.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tap a few notes into your tablet, focusing on the task at hand.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” you say firmly. “Where did the devices come from?”

Loki sighs dramatically, as if the question bores him. “You mortals are so dreadfully predictable. Always demanding answers, yet never willing to pay the price for them.”

“What’s the price?”

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Your name, Agent,” he repeats, enunciating the words slowly, as if you’re a particularly dense student. “You see, it’s rather difficult to have a proper conversation when I must refer to you as simply ‘Agent.’ It’s so... impersonal.”

You hesitate. It’s not a particularly sensitive piece of information, but giving him your name feels like handing him a weapon. Still, you decide it’s a small concession if it means making progress.

“Y/N,” you say finally. “My name is Y/N.”

Loki’s smile softens, though it’s no less dangerous. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mortal. Tell me, Y/N, do all agents possess your... charm, or are you truly one of a kind?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you reply, though your cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. You hope the harsh lighting hides it.

“Ah, but it’s not flattery if it’s true,” he counters smoothly. “And if I may say so, you wear skepticism rather well. It suits you.”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh. Loki’s flirtations are relentless, but you can’t let them distract you. You refocus on the task, determined to get the answers you need.

But as the interrogation continues, one thing becomes clear: working with Loki is going to be anything but straightforward.

The quinjet ride to Avengers Tower is suffocating in its silence. Loki sits across from you, his long legs stretched out casually as if he owns the entire aircraft. His wrists remain bound, the faint glow of the Asgardian cuffs serving as a reminder of his diminished power. But that doesn’t stop him from exuding arrogance with every calculated shift of his posture.

“Is this where I’m supposed to tremble?” he muses, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The great Avengers Tower, lair of the mighty heroes who so thoroughly bested me.” His smirk deepens. “How quaint.”

You’re seated across from him, tablet in hand, pretending to review your notes. But Loki’s presence is impossible to ignore, his every word curling around you like smoke.

“Maybe don’t insult the people who’ll be watching your every move,” you say, not looking up. “They’re already not thrilled about this arrangement.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something between amusement and curiosity. “And you, Y/N? Are you thrilled?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, but your job now entails keeping me under control, does it not?” His voice lowers, playful and conspiratorial. “Tell me, how does it feel to hold the leash of a god?”

You glance up, meeting his eyes without flinching. “It feels like babysitting a particularly arrogant toddler.”

His laughter rings out, rich and genuine, surprising you. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard. But then his expression shifts back to its usual smugness, and you realize he’s thoroughly enjoying this verbal sparring.

When the quinjet lands on the rooftop pad of Avengers Tower, you rise, gesturing for Loki to follow. He does, the clinking of his cuffs echoing as he steps out into the open air. The city sprawls out below, glittering in the early evening light, but Loki barely spares it a glance. His focus remains on the tower itself, his smirk growing as he takes in the structure.

“Ah, Stark’s playground,” he says. “I trust the man himself is waiting inside, ready to deliver a string of tiresome quips?”

“Something like that,” you reply, leading him toward the elevator.

As the doors slide open, Loki steps inside with the air of a man entering his throne room. You press the button for the common floor, bracing yourself for the chaos that’s about to unfold.

The doors slide open to reveal the Avengers lounging in the common area. Tony Stark is leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, while Natasha Romanoff sharpens a knife at the table. Steve Rogers stands near the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Bruce Banner hovers awkwardly in the background, glancing up as you and Loki step in.

“Look who’s here!” Tony’s voice cuts through the tension, dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Reindeer Games himself. I thought Asgard had a no-returns policy.”

Loki’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Ah, Stark. Still compensating for something, I see.”

“Alright, let’s not,” you interject quickly, stepping between them. “Loki’s here to help us, not pick a fight.”

“Help us?” Steve’s voice is cold, his gaze sharp as it settles on Loki. “That’s a generous interpretation.”

“It’s true,” you reply, keeping your tone firm. “We’ve encountered tech with energy signatures similar to the Tesseract. Loki’s the only one who might have answers.”

“Because trusting the guy who tried to enslave the planet worked out so well the first time,” Tony quips, raising his glass.

Loki chuckles softly. “It’s heartwarming to see how fondly you remember me.”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes darting between Loki and the others. You don’t miss the tension in his posture, the way his hands twitch as if ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. Loki notices too, and for the first time since his arrival, a flicker of unease crosses his face. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“I see the beast is still lurking,” Loki says, his voice quieter now, though the edge remains. “Tell me, Dr. Banner, does he hunger for revenge?”

Bruce flinches, his face pale. “I—I’d rather not...”

“Enough,” you cut in sharply, fixing Loki with a glare. “You’re here to cooperate, remember?”

Loki raises his hands as far as the cuffs allow, feigning innocence. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten the good doctor.”

Bruce mutters something under his breath and retreats further into the room. You make a mental note to keep an eye on both him and Loki; their shared tension feels like a powder keg waiting to ignite.

After the initial round of barbs, you manage to get Loki settled in a secure room. It’s more comfortable than the dungeons of Asgard but still far from luxurious—bare walls, a simple bed, and a reinforced door with biometric locks.

“Charming,” Loki says, surveying his new accommodations. “I feel right at home.”

“Good,” you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. If you step out of line, even once, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He steps closer, just enough to invade your space without crossing a line. His voice drops to a low purr. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t doubt your ability to... discipline me. In fact, I almost look forward to it.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you hold your ground. “Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave, you hear his voice again, softer this time. “Y/N?”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper.

“Why do you trust them with me?” he asks. “Your precious Avengers. Do you truly believe they can keep me in line?”

You meet his gaze, your own unwavering. “I don’t trust them to keep you in line. That’s my job.”

His smirk returns, but there’s something almost genuine beneath it. “Indeed, it is.”

The following day, the team gathers in the briefing room. Loki is seated at the far end of the table, his wrists still bound, though his demeanor remains as smug as ever. A holographic projection displays images of the recovered devices, their design sleek and alien.

“These were found in an abandoned Hydra facility,” you explain, gesturing to the display. “They emit the same energy signature as the Tesseract, but we have no idea what they’re for. That’s where Loki comes in.”

All eyes turn to him. He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“Convince me,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Why should I share my insights with you?”

“Because if you don’t,” Tony says, leaning forward, “we’ll lock you in a room with Banner and see how long it takes before the Other Guy wants a rematch.”

Bruce shoots Tony a horrified look, but Loki’s smirk falters for a split second. You notice the way his fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

“Enough,” you say firmly. “We’re not resorting to threats.” You turn to Loki, your voice softening slightly. “You know what’s out there, and you know how dangerous it can be. Help us stop it. Prove you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.”

For a moment, the room is silent. Loki’s gaze locks onto yours, something flickering in his expression—something almost vulnerable. Then, slowly, he inclines his head.

“Very well,” he says, his voice smooth once more. “Let’s see if mortals can keep up.”

As the meeting disperses, Loki lingers behind, waiting until it’s just the two of you.

“Nicely done, Y/N,” he says, his tone almost... complimentary. “You’ve mastered the art of persuasion.”

“I didn’t persuade you,” you reply. “I just told the truth.”

He steps closer, his smirk returning. “And yet, it worked. I wonder, what other truths might you use to sway me?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Let’s focus on saving the world first, shall we?”

“As you wish,” he says, bowing his head slightly. But as he steps past you, his voice drops to a whisper. “Though I suspect saving me might be your true challenge.”

You watch him leave, your heart inexplicably pounding. This mission just got a lot more complicated.

The next morning, the Avengers leave in a flurry of purpose and energy, Stark’s voice echoing with instructions as they file out of the tower. It’s a rare sight—every single one of them heading into the field together. You’re left behind, tasked with monitoring Loki and keeping the tower secure.

The quiet that follows their departure is almost unnerving. You sit in the common area, flipping through a report on your tablet, when Loki saunters in. He’s unbound for now—S.H.I.E.L.D.’s restraints only used when necessary. His movements are languid, predatory, as he crosses the room with his usual air of entitlement.

“Left alone with me again, Y/N?” he drawls, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

You don’t look up. “You’re always alone, Loki. I’m just here to make sure you don’t destroy anything or anyone.”

He hums thoughtfully, his sharp gaze raking over you. “I wonder, is that truly why you remain? Or do you find my company... intriguing?”

You glance at him, exasperated. “I find it tolerable. At best.”

“And yet, here you are.” His smirk widens as he steps closer, just enough to test your boundaries. “Tell me, Agent, what do you do when the others aren’t here to play their parts? Surely, you don’t spend every waking moment in this dull little tower watching me.”

“Someone has to.” You set your tablet aside and stand, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Why don’t you make my job easier and sit quietly for once?”

“But then how would I amuse myself?” He takes another step closer, his voice lowering. “You may not admit it, but I suspect you’d miss my antics if I were to behave.”

You roll your eyes and walk toward the kitchen, feigning indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself, Loki.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. You keep yourself busy with monitoring systems and catching up on reports, all while Loki stays suspiciously quiet in his room. It's unusual—he’s normally a restless presence, eager to test limits.

You assume his compliance is a sign of temporary boredom. What you don’t know is that Loki is lying in his sparse room, calculating. He’s been studying the tower’s security systems, searching for a way to slip past its safeguards. Tonight might be the night, he thinks. He’s memorized the patterns, the gaps, and he knows he can vanish before the Avengers even realize he’s gone.

As the hours stretch into evening, you retire to your room, unaware of the god’s intentions. Your space is a rare sanctuary in the tower, a blend of cozy practicality and personal touches that feel distinctly you.

Loki waits until the tower falls completely silent. With a wave of his hand, he disables the monitoring device in his room. It’s a minor spell—one he’s been saving for the right moment. The cuffs are no longer a problem; he’s studied the locking mechanism enough to slip them off without much effort.

He steps into the hallway, his bare feet silent on the cool floor. For the first time in weeks, he feels a surge of freedom, the tantalizing promise of escape. He heads for the exit, his mind already planning the next steps.

But as he passes by your room, a faint sound catches his attention. The door is slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of warm light into the hall. Loki hesitates, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

He peeks inside—and what he sees makes his breath hitch.

You’re standing in front of your bed, freshly out of the shower. Your hair is damp, curling against your shoulders, and you’re wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around your body. The bathroom door behind you is still open, steam curling into the air, and the glow of a bedside lamp bathes your skin in soft light.

Completely unaware of your observer, you move to the dresser, pulling it open to retrieve clothes. As you reach up, the towel slips slightly, revealing more of your shoulder and the curve of your collarbone. Loki swallows hard, a rush of heat pooling in his chest and spreading lower.

He knows he should leave—should slip away unnoticed and continue with his plan. But he doesn’t move.

There’s something captivating about this glimpse of you outside the professional walls you keep so firmly in place. You’re unguarded, human in a way he rarely sees, and it stirs something in him he doesn’t entirely understand.

He takes a step closer, his presence still undetected. The urge to say something, to tease you as he always does, bubbles up, but he suppresses it.

For once, the god of mischief is utterly silent.

You turn suddenly, as if sensing something, and his heart lurches. He retreats quickly, pressing himself against the wall just as your eyes flick toward the door.

“Hello?” you call, your voice uncertain.

Loki curses himself for his foolishness. He shouldn’t have lingered—but now that he’s seen this side of you, his desire to leave the tower has shifted. He watches as you step closer to the door, your expression wary.

He slips away, retreating to his room without a sound. Once inside, he leans against the wall, his mind racing.

The thought of escape still lingers in the back of his mind, but it no longer feels urgent. Not tonight.

Not when he knows you’re here, in the same space, entirely unaware of the effect you’ve had on him.

You find Loki in the common area, lounging on the couch as if nothing happened. His cuffs are back in place, though you notice a faint smugness in his expression, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning,” he says smoothly, his tone laced with amusement.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You seem chipper today.”

“Perhaps I’ve found reason to be,” he replies, his gaze flickering over you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You frown, brushing off the unease that his words stir. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much. You’re still under watch.”

“Of course,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “But tell me, Y/N, how did you sleep? Peacefully, I hope.”

There’s something about the way he says it—soft, teasing, with just a hint of mischief—that makes you pause.

You brush past him, refusing to let him get under your skin. But as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

And in his room later, Loki sits at the edge of his bed, the memory of you from the night before seared into his mind.

For now, his escape can wait.

The tension in the air was thick as the Avengers gathered in the briefing room, the holographic screen showing images of the upcoming gala. Tony Stark stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the surface, eyes narrowed as he analyzed the data. Steve Rogers was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw set, while Natasha Romanoff sat with a focused expression, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Bruce Banner, still uneasy around Loki, looked at the screen, then at his colleagues, silently awaiting the inevitable question.

"Alright," Tony began, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "We've got a masked gala happening in three days. High-profile event. The criminals we're tracking are expected to make a deal there, and it's our best shot at catching them."

"But they’ll be surrounded by a lot of people," Natasha said, folding her arms. "And these are highly dangerous individuals—some with connections to Hydra. We can’t risk a full-on assault."

"I agree," Steve added, his tone serious. "If we act too soon, we’ll spook them. We need to get inside, gather intel, and only move in when we have enough to bring them down safely."

"The problem," Tony continued, tapping a button on the table to bring up a closer view of the suspects, "is that they’re too well-protected. The best way in is through someone they don’t expect. Someone like... Loki."

The room went quiet. Everyone exchanged glances, the air thick with unease. Even though Loki had been cooperating—somewhat—the trust wasn’t there. Not after what he’d done. Not after the chaos he’d tried to bring to Earth. And still, his knowledge of these kinds of circles, his ability to navigate a room and blend in with the highest of society—well, it was a skill set they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tony continued. “But he’s the only one who can do this. We send him in as a guest. He can be charming—when he wants to be—and this kind of event is perfect for him. He won’t be recognized as a threat. In fact, they’ll probably be more inclined to trust him because of his past affiliations.”

“But we can’t just let him roam free,” Steve said, his distrust of the god evident. “There’s still the matter of him being dangerous. Even if he’s pretending to play nice, he’s unpredictable.”

“Exactly,” Tony said with a nod. “Which is why we’ll send Y/N in with him. As his escort.”

The room went silent again, this time for a different reason. Every eye turned to you, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t exactly a choice you’d been expecting. You had done plenty of fieldwork, but partnering with Loki? That was a new level of uncomfortable.

“Y/N’s been on the ground for this mission longer than any of us,” Tony continued, sensing the hesitation. “She knows the people, she knows how to blend in, and most importantly, she knows Loki better than any of us. She can keep him in check. Plus, we need someone who can keep him focused when things get... tense.”

You couldn’t help but shoot Tony a sharp look. “You’re assuming I’ll be able to control him. I’m not sure that’s realistic.”

“I’m confident you can,” Tony said with a shrug, though his tone was far from comforting. “Besides, we’ll be monitoring you both from the moment you step inside. We’ll be feeding you intel, and we’ve got backup in case things go sideways. But we can’t afford to miss this opportunity.”

You let out a long breath. The Avengers were right in one respect—this gala would be the criminals’ first big move, and it was the perfect chance to catch them red-handed. The only problem was the wild card in all of this—Loki.

“You do realize, he’s going to hate this, right?” you said, glancing toward the hallway where Loki’s room was. “He won’t go along with it without making some... demands.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said with a smirk. “But that’s where you come in. You’re going to keep him in line, whether he likes it or not.”

The idea of working so closely with Loki was disconcerting, to say the least. You weren’t sure if you were more concerned about his volatile personality or the way he looked at you—like he could read you with a single glance. Either way, being his partner at a high-stakes event was sure to turn this mission into something far more complicated than it already was.

“You’ll need to get him suited up,” Tony added. “Dress him the part. He’s got the charm, but he’s going to need the right... accessories to sell it. A tux, maybe something dark and mysterious. And, of course, a story. We’re going with the ‘rich but elusive businessman’ angle.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I’ll make sure he’s... presentable. But don’t expect him to be on his best behavior just because he’s wearing a suit.”

“I’m counting on you to make sure he stays in character, Y/N,” Tony said, locking eyes with you. “We need him to play nice for just a few hours. If he steps out of line, you have full clearance to use whatever means necessary to rein him in.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I don’t like putting you in this position, Y/N. But this is the only chance we’ve got to take down these criminals. You know the risks, and we’re counting on you to make sure Loki doesn’t derail everything.”

“I get it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’ll keep him focused. But if he decides to do something... foolish, don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said with a grin. “But seriously, we’re counting on you both. The gala is our best chance to catch them. You’ll be getting intel from us in real time, so we’ll know exactly when to move in.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders. This wasn’t just about stopping criminals—it was about making sure Loki didn’t ruin everything, too. And while you could handle the job, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially with a god of mischief at your side.

As you walked to Loki’s room to prepare him for the mission, your mind raced. You were about to go undercover with someone who had a knack for turning every situation into a game. It was going to be a challenge, no doubt about it. But if it meant catching the criminals and keeping the tower—and your team—safe, you were ready to do whatever it took.

You reached his door and knocked twice, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. It was time to bring him into the fold, even if that meant wrestling him into a tux and a plan.

Inside, Loki’s voice echoed through the door. “Come in, Y/N. I trust this isn’t a social call?”

You opened the door, steeling yourself. The mission was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

The grandeur of the gala hits you the moment you step into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, illuminating the sea of elegant masks and opulent gowns. A live band plays a sultry melody, the kind that fills the air with the promise of secrets. Beside you, Loki cuts an imposing figure, his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his black mask veiling just enough of his face to make him look both alluring and dangerous.

You’re both walking a tightrope here, pretending to be something you’re not while still tethered to the truth. The mission is clear: mingle, gather intel on the criminals, and identify their deal. But the undercurrent of your arrangement hums just beneath the surface, threatening to pull you under with every step.

“They certainly went all out,” Loki muses, his voice smooth as silk. He offers his arm, and though you hesitate for a fraction of a second, you take it. “Is this where I play the doting husband?”

“Try not to overdo it,” you reply, keeping your voice low. “We’re supposed to blend in, not steal the spotlight.”

He tilts his head toward you, his lips curling into a smirk. “But stealing the spotlight is what I do best, darling.”

You give him a warning look, though your heart skips a beat at the way the endearment rolls off his tongue. “Save the theatrics for later. Right now, we need to find our targets.”

He hums in agreement, though the sharp gleam in his eyes suggests he’s more focused on you than the mission. His hand rests lightly over yours as he leads you through the crowd, weaving seamlessly between masked attendees. He’s good at this, you realize, his charm a perfect weapon in this environment.

“Smile,” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath ghosting against your skin. “You look far too serious for someone at a gala.”

You force a small smile, though the proximity of him sends heat rushing to your face. “I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t babysitting a god with a penchant for chaos.”

“And I’d be more entertained if my wife weren’t so suspicious of me,” he teases, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel intimate.

Before you can retort, Loki’s posture shifts ever so slightly. He leans closer, pretending to adjust your mask, and murmurs, “Our targets are at three o’clock. The tall one with the crimson gown. She’s speaking to a man with a cane.”

You glance subtly in that direction and nod. “Let’s move closer.”

The two of you drift toward the edge of the ballroom, positioning yourselves within earshot of the targets. Loki keeps his hand on yours, the intimate gesture lending an air of authenticity to your cover. You focus on the conversation happening nearby, picking up snippets of information about shipment schedules and encrypted codes.

But then, the music changes.

A familiar tune fills the room—sultry, electric, and unmistakably intense. It’s Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan, reimagined by the live band with a pulsing tango rhythm.

Before you can react, Loki takes your hand and spins you toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull back.

“Keeping up appearances,” he says smoothly, his mask glinting in the light. “We’re a married couple, after all. And what better way to celebrate our love than a dance?”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, but you allow him to lead you onto the floor.

The second your feet touch the polished wood, his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer than you expect. His other hand captures yours, holding it just above shoulder height as he begins to move. The tango’s rhythm demands sharp, deliberate steps, and Loki executes them flawlessly, guiding you as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you say, breathless as he spins you.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice low and magnetic.

The music swells, the band leaning into the dramatic crescendos, and you feel the tension between you and Loki rise to match it. Every step, every twist of your body against his, feels charged. His hand lingers just a moment too long when it brushes your hip, his fingers grazing the bare skin between your dress and his touch.

“You’re supposed to be watching the targets,” you remind him, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

“Ah, but how could I focus on them when my wife is such a vision?” His tone is playful, but there’s something darker, more serious, behind his words.

As he dips you, your breath catches. The movement is effortless, but the way his eyes bore into yours makes you forget, for a moment, that this is just an act.

The song’s climax hits, and Loki pulls you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me, darling. Are you pretending to enjoy this as much as I am?”

Your heart pounds, though you refuse to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you haven’t pushed me away,” he counters, spinning you once more before the final beats of the song.

The last note hangs in the air as Loki holds you in a dramatic pose, his arm wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. The applause from the crowd barely registers as you realize your breathing has quickened, your skin warm where his hand rests.

He smirks, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Shall we call this a victory, wife?”

You snap back to reality, pulling away just enough to compose yourself. “Don’t get used to it. We still have a mission.”

“Of course,” he says, though the glint in his eyes suggests he’s far more interested in the game he’s playing with you than the criminals in the room.

As the crowd disperses from the dance floor, you glance toward your targets, who seem to have moved toward a private balcony.

“Come on,” you say, tugging at his arm.

Loki follows, but not before leaning close and murmuring, “I’ll be thinking about that dance for a very long time.”

You don’t dignify him with a response, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. The mission isn’t over yet, and you can only hope Loki’s antics won’t make things even more complicated.

You and Loki follow the targets carefully, keeping a measured distance as they make their way toward a secluded hallway leading to the gala’s private suites. The corridor is dimly lit, lined with ornate wallpaper and gilded sconces. The murmur of the crowd fades, leaving only the faint echo of footsteps as you press closer to the wall, your pulse quickening with the thrill of being so near to your goal.

“They’re heading to the west wing,” Loki whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “It seems our charming couple prefers privacy for their dealings.”

You nod, your heart pounding as you creep along the edge of the hall, trying to stay out of sight. The couple stops just ahead, speaking in hushed tones. Loki steps closer behind you, his presence almost overwhelming in the enclosed space.

“Keep your focus,” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I am focused,” he replies, his tone playful but quiet. “Though I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can linger without being noticed.”

It’s a valid concern. The targets seem engrossed in their conversation, but the corridor is too exposed. You glance around, searching for a place to retreat or a better angle to listen in, but before you can decide, one of the criminals glances back sharply, their eyes scanning the hallway.

“They’re looking this way,” Loki mutters, his voice low and urgent.

Panic shoots through you. There’s no time to retreat, no place to hide. Your mind races, and then—on pure instinct—you grab Loki by the lapels of his suit and pull him toward you.

Before he can protest, your lips press against his, your back hitting the wall as you lean into him. His body stiffens for a split second, but then he catches on. His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers curling slightly as he leans into the kiss, matching your urgency with surprising ease.

Your heart hammers in your chest, not just from the danger but from the sudden, electric sensation of Loki’s mouth on yours. His lips are soft yet commanding, his touch both calculated and possessive as he shifts his body to shield you further from view.

“What in the Nine Realms are you doing?” he whispers against your lips, his tone more intrigued than accusatory.

“Keeping us alive,” you murmur back, your voice barely audible as the footsteps approach.

The targets pass by slowly, their footsteps deliberate. You can feel their gaze sweep over you, but you don’t dare look. Instead, you pour every ounce of focus into the act, your fingers curling into the fabric of Loki’s jacket as you deepen the kiss just enough to sell it.

Loki seems to relish the role, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further. His thumb brushes against your waist, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold.

A voice interrupts the moment, sharp and disapproving. “This is hardly the place for such displays.”

You part from Loki abruptly, your face hot as you turn to face the source of the scolding. One of the gala’s staff members, an older man in a crisp uniform, stands a few feet away, his expression one of polite disapproval.

“My apologies,” you say quickly, straightening your mask and trying to appear appropriately chastised. “We got… carried away.”

Loki, ever the performer, offers a sheepish smile that’s somehow more seductive than apologetic. “Forgive us. My wife and I have a difficult time restraining our passions.”

The staff member huffs, clearly unimpressed. “There are designated areas for such… activities. Keep it off the main floor.”

“Of course,” Loki replies smoothly, his hand still resting at the small of your back. “We’ll be more discreet.”

The staff member mutters something under his breath before walking away, and you exhale a shaky breath, your heart still racing. The targets are gone, having paid you no more than a passing glance. The plan worked.

You glance up at Loki, whose expression is unreadable behind his mask. “That was quick thinking,” he says finally, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was survival,” you retort, stepping out of his hold and straightening your dress. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smirks, adjusting his own mask with an air of casual arrogance. “Too late for that, darling. I’m afraid you’ve given me quite a lot to think about.”

You glare at him, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus, Loki. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Ah, but you see,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “now I’m more motivated than ever to see this mission through. And who knows? Perhaps we’ll need to use that particular tactic again.”

You roll your eyes, brushing past him as you head back toward the main event. But as much as you want to dismiss his words, the lingering warmth of his kiss—and the way your body seemed to respond to him—stays with you, making it harder to focus than you’d like.

Loki follows close behind, his footsteps quiet but his presence impossible to ignore. And though neither of you speaks it aloud, there’s an unspoken awareness between you now—an understanding that something has shifted. Whether that’s a good thing or a dangerous one, only time will tell.

The ride back to the Avengers Tower is quieter than you expect, though tension hangs in the air, thick and unyielding. The mission was a success; you and Loki gathered enough intel to pinpoint the criminals’ next move and their precise location. As Tony pilots the jet, he and Natasha pore over the information, already strategizing for the intervention. Steve listens intently, his expression serious, while Bruce sits stiffly in his seat, keeping his distance from Loki, though the god seems entirely unfazed.

You sit across from Loki, your mask now discarded, but the memory of the gala’s events lingers. Every stolen glance, every near-discovery, and every moment you spent pressed against him still simmers in the back of your mind. You can feel his eyes on you, and though you refuse to look at him, your body betrays you, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Quite the evening,” Loki says suddenly, his voice smooth and low. His tone carries the same playful edge it always does, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—something darker, hungrier.

“Successful, at least,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you glance at him. “We accomplished what we came to do.”

“Indeed,” he says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Though I dare say the evening held more… unexpected delights than anticipated.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Steve interrupts.

“Focus, you two,” he says sharply. “We’ve got work to do.”

Loki’s smirk widens, but he falls silent, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied air. You cross your arms, willing yourself to ignore him, though the memory of his kiss lingers, stubborn and persistent.

When you return to the Tower, the debriefing is quick and efficient. Tony projects the data you and Loki retrieved, detailing the location of the deal and the criminals’ schedule. The team agrees to strike at dawn, using the element of surprise to their advantage. As plans take shape, you feel a flicker of relief. The night’s tension will soon give way to action, and with any luck, this mission will end successfully.

Once the meeting adjourns, you catch Loki’s eye. “Come on,” you say, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“As you wish,” he replies, rising gracefully from his seat.

The walk to his quarters is quiet at first. The Tower feels oddly still in the late hours, the hallways dimly lit. You lead the way, your mind spinning as you try to push away the lingering heat of the gala—the dance, the kiss, the way his hands felt on you. Loki walks beside you, his presence magnetic as ever, his gaze lingering on you even when you refuse to meet it.

When you reach his door, you stop, turning to face him. “Goodnight, Loki,” you say, your voice firm but polite.

But before you can step away, he moves closer.

“You’ve been avoiding my eyes all evening,” he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur. “Why is that, darling? Did I do something to unnerve you?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the catch in your voice betrays you. “I’ve been focused on the mission, that’s all.”

“Liar,” he says softly, his smirk returning. “You’ve been thinking about it. About us. About the way I touched you, held you, kissed you.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, and you take a step back, your back hitting the wall. He follows, closing the distance until he’s mere inches away, his tall frame towering over you.

“Admit it,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You felt it, too—the spark, the fire. I see it in your eyes, Y/N. You want me just as much as I want you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Because he’s right. No matter how much you’ve tried to deny it, the truth is undeniable now, burning in every corner of your being.

His hand rises to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into his touch, your resolve crumbling as the need overtakes you. Loki’s eyes darken, his breath hitching as he realizes your answer.

With a groan, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the one at the gala. This kiss is raw, urgent, and unrestrained, a culmination of every unspoken word and every stolen glance. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips move against yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

And to his surprise—and yours—you kiss him back with just as much passion. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the moment. The world falls away, leaving only the heat of his touch and the hunger in his kiss.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. Loki’s hands remain on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as if he’s afraid you might pull away.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but tender.

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you press your lips to his again, silencing any words with a kiss that speaks volumes. For now, words don’t matter. All that matters is this—this moment, this connection, this fire that neither of you can deny anymore.

And for the first time, neither of you tries to.

The Tower feels different now, quieter in the wake of the mission’s success. The criminals have been apprehended, their operation dismantled, and SHIELD has taken over for the cleanup. But despite the victory, a strange tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. Fury and Thor are locked in discussions about Loki’s fate, and you and Loki are left waiting in his room, suspended in uncertainty.

The silence between you is unlike any other you’ve shared before. It’s not sharp with banter or charged with playful tension; it’s softer, quieter, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

You sit on the edge of the small couch by the window, gazing out at the city lights glittering against the dark sky. Loki leans against the desk, his long fingers idly toying with the edge of a book. For once, he’s still—not prowling or pacing, not filling the room with his restless energy.

“They’re taking their time,” you murmur, your voice cutting through the silence.

“They always do,” Loki replies, though his tone lacks its usual sarcasm.

You glance at him, studying his profile. He looks calm, almost serene, but you’ve spent enough time with him to see through the mask. The faint furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands grip the book just a little too tightly—they all betray him.

“They’ll make the right decision,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

He scoffs lightly but doesn’t look at you. “The right decision,” he repeats, the words laced with bitterness. “That depends entirely on who is defining it.”

You sigh, standing and moving closer to him. “Loki, you helped. You could’ve run at any point during this mission, but you didn’t. That has to count for something.”

His lips twist into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And do you think that will sway Fury or my brother? Do you think they’ll forget what I’ve done? The chaos, the destruction?”

“They don’t have to forget,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “But they can see that you’re not the same person who attacked New York. You’ve changed, Loki.”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, and for a moment, something raw flashes in his eyes—something vulnerable and uncertain. “Have I?”

You place your hand over his, stilling his restless movements. “Yes. You have. I see it. And if they can’t, then that’s their failure, not yours.”

The room falls into silence again, but this time, it feels different. Loki’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling around yours as he exhales slowly.

“What do you think they’ll decide?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But whatever happens, we’ll face it. Together.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, the mask falls away entirely. You see the man beneath—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope he doesn’t dare acknowledge.

“You say that as if you’ll still be by my side when this is over,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t hesitate. “I will be.”

His hand tightens on yours, his eyes holding yours as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer, his other hand rising to cradle your face.

“If this is to be the last time we’re alone,” he says, his voice trembling slightly, “then let it be a moment worth remembering.”

Your heart aches at the words, at the vulnerability he’s showing. But you don’t argue. Instead, you lean into him, closing the gap between you.

The kiss is different this time. It’s not urgent or hungry but slow and lingering, filled with a quiet desperation. His lips move against yours as if savoring every second, every touch, every taste. His hands are gentle, one cradling your cheek while the other rests on your waist, anchoring you to him.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he holds you like you’re something fragile and precious, in the way his touch feels like both a promise and a farewell.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, and the world outside feels impossibly far away.

“No matter what they decide,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “you’re not alone. You never will be.”

For a long moment, Loki doesn’t speak. Then he nods, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the words so quiet you almost miss them.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the world outside fade away. For now, there’s no SHIELD, no judgment, no uncertain future. There’s only this—this moment, this connection, this fragile yet unbreakable bond.

And for now, that’s enough.

The knock at the door comes like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile stillness you and Loki have wrapped yourselves in. You tense in his arms, and his grip on you tightens briefly before he lets you go, stepping back as though putting distance between you is the only way to shield himself from what’s coming.

You take a deep breath and move to answer the door, Loki trailing behind you. When you open it, you’re greeted by the imposing figures of Nick Fury and Thor. Fury’s face is unreadable, his single eye piercing as it moves between you and Loki. Thor’s expression is graver than you’ve ever seen it, a heaviness in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“May we come in?” Fury asks, his voice clipped.

You nod, stepping aside to let them enter. Loki lingers near the window, his posture deceptively casual as he leans against the wall. But you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl faintly against his sides.

Fury and Thor take positions near the center of the room, both of them standing tall and commanding. Thor’s gaze lingers on Loki, a mix of concern and judgment flashing across his face.

“We’ve reached a decision,” Fury begins, his tone as sharp as ever. “It wasn’t an easy one, considering everything Loki has done in the past and the risks he poses in the future.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you glance at Loki. He’s staring at Fury now, his expression a careful mask of indifference.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Thor says, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Your actions during this mission have proven that you are capable of aiding Midgard without causing harm. However, they do not erase the destruction you have wrought.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “How magnanimous of you, brother. Do get to the point.”

Thor’s jaw tightens, but he presses on. “You will not be returned to Asgard’s dungeons. Instead, you will remain here, under the supervision of SHIELD and the Avengers. Your movements will be restricted, and any deviation from the terms of your parole will result in severe consequences.”

Fury nods. “Think of it as probation. You step out of line, you’re done. No exceptions.”

You exhale a shaky breath, relief flooding through you despite the harshness of their words. Loki isn’t going back to Asgard’s prison. He isn’t being taken away.

Loki, however, seems less than impressed. “So, I am to be your prisoner still, but with a longer leash?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” Thor says, his tone softening slightly. “To prove that you are more than your past mistakes.”

Loki’s smirk fades, and for a moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. He looks away, his gaze drifting to the window.

“And what role do I play in this… probation?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“You’ll assist the Avengers as needed,” Fury says bluntly. “Your skills are… useful, when not being used to destroy things.”

“Charming,” Loki mutters.

Fury ignores the comment, turning his attention to you. “As for you, Y/N, you’ll remain his primary handler. You’ve proven capable of keeping him in check, and frankly, you’re the only one he seems remotely willing to listen to.”

The weight of the responsibility settles over you, but you nod firmly. “Understood.”

Thor steps forward then, his gaze fixed on Loki. “Do not squander this chance, brother. It may be the only one you are given.”

Loki meets his gaze, his expression unreadable. “I’ll endeavor not to disappoint you, Thor.”

The words are polite, but there’s a sharpness to them, a bitterness that hasn’t faded. Thor watches him for a moment longer before nodding and turning to leave. Fury follows, but not before giving you a pointed look.

“Keep him in line,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

The room falls into silence again, heavier now than before. You turn to Loki, who remains by the window, his back to you.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “It seems I’m to be your ward indefinitely. I hope you’re prepared for the burden.”

You take a step closer, your heart aching at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his tone. “Loki… this is a second chance. They didn’t have to give you that.”

He turns to face you, his expression guarded. “A second chance to serve as their pet sorcerer, you mean. To be tolerated, not trusted.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, moving closer still. “It’s a chance to prove them wrong. To show them who you really are.”

“And who is that, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dropping. “Who do you think I really am?”

You hesitate, your throat tightening as you search for the right words. “I think you’re someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s made mistakes, but someone who’s still capable of doing good. Of being… more.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. Then, to your surprise, he chuckles—a quiet, almost bitter sound.

“You are a strange woman, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head. “But perhaps that’s what I need.”

You smile faintly, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’ll never have to face this alone, Loki. Not as long as I’m here.”

He gazes at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and tender.

“Then we’re even,” you reply, your lips quirking into a faint smile.

For the first time that night, his smirk softens into something more genuine. And as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, the weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

[brokebonewritings]

You Are Not Alone - Part 1

Loki x Reader

Tags/Warning: 18+, fluff, angst, smut, hurt/comfort

Summary: Loki finds you on your own timeline, and teaches you the power of want and how to become a fugitive of the TVA

Word Count: 4.6K

Navigation || Masterlist

The rooms in your house were silent. They always had been. Ever since your Fiancé passed away. Cancer. It was horrible in the end, but you were relieved by the fact that he would not be in pain anymore.

Pictures of the both of you were still nailed to the wall in small black frames. You didn’t have the heart to take them down just yet. Even after two and a half years.

You always found yourself standing in the hallway, staring at your engagement photos. The memory of that day flooded back to you - the way he had looked at you with such love and adoration. You felt as though you would never find the same love again.

The routine your therapist had set in motion for you kept you going though. Eventually the days melted into each other. Work, Home, Walk, Repeat. Nothing ever changed. Except today it had changed.

You walked through the park by your house, but couldn't help but feel as if someone or something was watching you. Stopping for a moment you don’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

As you stood there trying to shake off the eerie feeling, a sudden gust of wind sent a chill down your spine. You wrapped your arms around yourself, looking around nervously. The park was deserted, with only a few scattered leaves swirling in the air.

Just as you were about to dismiss the sensation, a movement caught your eye. A figure standing under the old oak tree at the edge of the park. It was too far away to see clearly, but you could make out a silhouette of a person.

Curiosity got the best of you as you cautiously made your way towards the mysterious figure. With each step, the figure became clearer, and a sense of familiarity washed over you.

As you finally reached the tree, the figure turned around slowly. Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with a face you never thought you'd see again - your Fiancé.

“How?” You both said in unison.

“I-” He swallowed thickly, “I never thought I’d find you.”

“How?” You were thrown off by his remark. “Wait, what?”

“I’ve been looking for you.” He said as the wind blew his dark hair in his face. His piercing blue eyes staring at you.

“But you’re dead.” You say bluntly, and the air seems to become more suffocating.

“Oh, no, I’m not who you think I am.” He starts, “I mean. I am, but I’m not whoever this timelines version of me was to you.”

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, searching his eyes for answers that seemed out of reach. “How is this possible?”

“I know this is a lot to take in,” he continued, his expression a mix of longing and apprehension. “But I need help.”

Confusion swirled within you as you tried to comprehend the impossible situation unfolding before your eyes. Your heart ached at the sight of him, so similar yet undeniably different.

“You need my help?”

“I do,” he replied earnestly, his gaze unwavering. “Do you, by any chance, work for Stark Industries?”

How did he know that? How could he possibly know that? This wasn’t your Luke. It could never be. This didn't feel right. As you stood there, grappling with the impossibility of the situation before you, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach.

“I... I do work for Stark Industries,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “But how do you know that? And who are you really?”

The man regarded you with a mixture of sadness and determination in his eyes. “We need to find somewhere private to talk, it’s not safe to speak about this out in the open.”

You looked around as if to look for a hidden figure, but the park seemed to be empty besides the both of you. Looking back at him, you nod and begin to walk towards home.

Silence hung between you as you both made your way back to your house, the only sound being the crunch of fallen leaves beneath your feet.

You stole glances at him, trying to reconcile the familiar features with the unsettling truth that this couldn't be the man you lost. But his presence was undeniable, and a part of you longed to believe in the impossible.

Entering your silent home, the air felt charged with tension as you motioned for the man to take a seat in the living room. He hesitated for a moment before settling down on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours.

Sitting across from him, you found yourself at a loss for words. How could you begin to unravel the mystery?

“You better start explaining.” You begin, “Who are you? Who do you work for? Why do you look like him?”

The man took a deep breath, his gaze steady on yours as he began to speak. "I understand that this is difficult to comprehend, but I need you to trust me. My name is Loki, and I am not from this timeline. Obviously.”

He looked around uncomfortably. What he was saying sounded like something out of a science fiction novel, though your career choice was almost the same.

“So what are you doing in this timeline?” You raise an eyebrow.

“You are working on a project. Project X, correct?”

“That’s classified information! How do you know abou-”

“Timelines, Not from here, I know things you do not. Yes, you are working on Project X or not?”

You nod your head silently as you stare at him.

“Good girl. I need to see some of the documents and see if they are connected to the destruction to another timeline.”

You hesitated, unsure of whether to trust this mysterious man claiming to be from another timeline. But his knowledge of your work at Stark Industries and the uncanny resemblance he bore to your deceased fiancé unsettled you deeply.

Taking a deep breath, you rose from your seat and were about to walk to your office when a sudden knock was heard at your front door. Both you and Loki jump, with cautious steps you approach your door and look out the peephole. 

It was covered. This person obviously didn’t want you knowing who was there. You knew better than to just open the door. Looking back you see the tall mysterious man hovering by the Living Room entrance hand behind his back. Armed, most likely.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he looked from you to the door, a flicker of concern crossing his features.

You take a deep breath before speaking clearly. “Who is it?”

The voice that responded was muffled, but the words sent a chill down your spine. "Open the door, now."

The tone was commanding, leaving no room for argument. You felt your heart race as you hesitated, unsure of what to do next. Loki's hand tightened into a fist at his side, a glint of apprehension in his eyes.

Without a word, he reached out and gently pushed you behind him, stepping forward to stand between you and the door. As you watched, paralyzed by fear and uncertainty, Loki took a deep breath and called out in a firm voice, "Who are you, and what do you want?"

“Loki. We know what you’ve done. We don’t want to vandalize a civilian’s house now do we?”

You straighten up and grab his arm. Angry. “What the fuck did you do?” 

“I-” He turns to you, eyes full of sadness.

“What did you do?” You screamed, nails digging into his shirt.

Loki's expression softened as he met your furious gaze, his eyes betraying a deep sense of regret. "I didn't mean for this to happen," he admitted, his voice tinged with remorse. "But we need to move quickly if we want to stay ahead of them."

“Who?”

At that exact moment, the door bursts in with force. Armed soldiers run in and surround the both of you. TVA written across their chest.

At that exact moment, the door bursts in with force. Armed soldiers run in and surround the both of you. TVA written across their chest.

The soldiers trained their weapons on you and Loki, their expressions stern and unforgiving. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to make sense of the chaos unfolding before you. Loki stood protectively in front of you, his gaze locked with the leader of the TVA soldiers.

“Loki, God of Mischief,” the leader intoned, his voice devoid of emotion. “You are hereby charged with crimes against the Sacred Timeline, yet again. Surrender peacefully, or face the consequences.”

Loki’s jaw clenched as he assessed the situation, his mind working quickly to find a way out of this predicament. You could see the conflict in his eyes, torn between defiance and resignation.

“Wait,” you interjected, stepping forward cautiously. “What exactly is going on here?”

The armed man lowers his weapon slightly, “Our little pet here thought it would be a great idea to attack a TVA officer and steal a TemPad and use it to come find you.”

You looked to Loki for confirmation. He looked at you and then the officer.

“Oh come now, I asked nicely first.” He looked back to you. “It’s not my fault she said no and attacked me first.”

Loki's words hung heavy in the tense air, his gaze shifting between you and the TVA officer. The situation had escalated far beyond anything you could have imagined when you first encountered the man claiming to be from another timeline.

As you processed the information unfolding before you, a sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach. You had heard rumors of the Time Variance Authority, an organization tasked with maintaining the integrity of the Sacred Timeline.

But to be swept up in their world so suddenly, with a fugitive like Loki standing before you, felt like a nightmare come to life.

“Is what they’re saying true?” You ask. 

“It’s not…false. Look, I was trying to find you, and yes I may have knocked someone out to get the TemPad…”

“But why me? Why did you need to find me?” you pressed.

The TVA officer eyed you warily, clearly not used to having civilians interjecting in their operations. Loki hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the soldiers surrounding you.

“Enough with the chit chat. Loki. Come with us, or you both are under arrest.” The soldier announced.

“We don’t have much time,” Loki continued urgently. “You need to come with me if we have any hope of preventing the multiverse from collapsing in on itself.”

You looked between Loki and the TVA officer, torn between loyalty to your reality and the unknown future that lay before you. But deep down, you knew that there was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. He sighs before turning back to the soldiers. “Sorry, but it looks like we’ll be taking our leave now.”

You watch as he grabs onto your waist, and opens a portal below the both of you. Free falling onto a cement sidewalk, he held you tightly, not allowing you to fall to the ground. 

“Where are we?”

“Dublin, don’t worry. It’s still the same year.”

“Why are we in Dublin?” You looked around in shock.

“We need to lay low for a while,” Loki explained, his eyes scanning the bustling streets for any signs of pursuit. “The TVA will be tracking us, and we can't risk drawing any more attention to ourselves.”

You followed Loki's lead as he navigated through the crowded sidewalks, his demeanor tense yet focused. The gravity of the situation began to sink in as you realized the enormity of what you had just been thrust into.

"Listen, I know this is all a lot to take in," Loki began, his green eyes searching yours for any hint of understanding. "But I need you to trust me.”

“I just don’t understand why you needed to find me, out of all the different versions of me?” 

Loki's expression softened as he met your gaze, a hint of vulnerability shining through his usually guarded demeanor. "Because you are not like the others," he murmured.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity at his words, a sense of destiny hanging heavy in the air between you. “Why don’t we get a hotel for the night?”

He nodded in agreement, recognizing the wisdom in laying low for the time being. Together, you found a discreet hotel to stay in, the dimly lit lobby offering a sense of temporary refuge from the chaos that had enveloped your lives.

As you settled into your room, the weight of the day's events pressed down on you, leaving you feeling both exhausted and exhilarated by the whirlwind of emotions.

Loki stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the bustling city below as he seemed lost in thought. You watched him silently, unsure of what to make of this enigmatic man who had suddenly appeared in your life. Despite his charm and charisma, there was an air of melancholy that clung to him like a cloak.

Sensing your eyes on him, Loki turned to face you with a small, knowing smile. "We may be fugitives now, but at least we're fugitives together," he remarked wryly.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, “Yes because I wanted to be a fugitive with a God from another timeline.”

Chuckling softly, Loki sauntered over to where you sat, his gaze intense as he met yours. "Sometimes fate has a funny way of bringing two unlikely souls together," he mused.

"Perhaps being a fugitive isn't so bad when you have the God of Mischief by your side," you quipped, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Loki's expression softened at your words, a flicker of something akin to gratitude crossing his features. In that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of the man behind the mask he wore so effortlessly.

“Can I ask why you actually were looking for me?” You brought your knees to your chest at that moment. “It’s just, I keep thinking back to when you first saw me.” 

His gaze lingered on you, a mixture of emotions swirling in his eyes as he considered your question. With a sigh, he settled himself into a chair opposite you, his posture relaxing slightly as if preparing to share a part of himself that he seldom revealed.

“I-” He began but stopped. You notice the turmoil mixing in his eyes. “In my timeline, you were my wife. And as unbelievable as it may sound, you were my anchor in a world of chaos and deception," Loki confessed, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "I never thought I would find you again, let alone in a different reality."

Your heart skipped a beat at his revelation, the implications of his words sinking in as you tried to process the weight of his confession. Here was a man you barely knew, laying bare a connection that spanned across time and space.

"I don't know what to say," you admitted softly, searching his gaze for any hint of deceit. But all you found was a raw honesty that tugged at something deep within you. “How long has it been?”

“2 years, 6 months, 1 day, and 17 hours.”

“You counted that much?” You ask surprised.

“I loved you.” He says before realizing. “her. I loved her.”

A surge of compassion welled up inside you, “I understand. I’ve counted every second over the last 4 years.”

Loki reached out tentatively, his hand coming to rest on yours. "I understand if this is too much to take in," he said, his touch gentle yet reassuring. "But I couldn't bear the thought of losing you twice."

"I never imagined...I never thought..." Your voice wavered as you struggled to find the right words to convey the storm of emotions raging inside you.

His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, a silent gesture of support and understanding. "I know this is a lot to process, but I couldn't keep this truth from you any longer," he murmured, his gaze unwavering.

Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the distant hum of the city outside. In that moment, it felt as if time had ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you suspended in a fragile bubble of shared vulnerability.

“I know I just met you, but I, I need to feel your lips against mine again.” He says softly.

Without a word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Loki. His lips met yours in a tender yet urgent kiss, a wave of emotions crashing over you both. In that fleeting moment, the barriers that had separated your hearts seemed to dissolve, leaving only the raw truth of your connection.

As you pulled back slightly, catching your breath, a sense of clarity washed over you. “I never thought I would be able to do that again.” 

Loki's expression softened, a genuine smile gracing his features as he cupped your cheek in his hand. “For the first time, in a very long time, I feel like I have found something worth fighting for.”

“So what do we do? Run from the TVA forever?”

"No, we face them head-on," he stated firmly. “But tonight, we rest and If you’ll allow me then I would like to hold you.”

“Just hold me?” You ask, rising from your spot on the bed.

“Would you want me to do something more?”

You shrug and step closer to him beginning to climb onto his lap.

Loki's arms wrapped around you protectively as you settled into his lap, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace. The rise and fall of his chest against yours seemed to synchronize your own breathing.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that had long been dormant. It was more than just physical desire; it was a yearning for connection, for understanding, for a love that transcended time and space.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat matching your own. In that intimate moment, words were no longer necessary as the silent language of touch spoke volumes between you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. "I may be the God of Mischief, but with you, I could never do you any harm" he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity.

It’s your turn to leave him speechless. Grabbing his face, you kiss him with an overwhelming passion. Loki was taken aback by the intensity of your kiss, a jolt of electricity shooting through him as he responded with equal fervor.

His hands moved with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, drawing you closer as if afraid you might vanish into thin air. When you finally pulled back, a soft gasp escaping your lips, Loki's eyes searched yours with a hunger that matched your own.

"I never expected to find this kind of connection," he admitted softly.

“You just found the right version of me I guess.” you say before kissing him again, this time more intensely.

Quickly taking his bottom lip, you tug as if to make a point. This time, he growls against your lips. “Darling, you’re about to learn very quickly to not play with me as such.”

You giggle before kissing him once again. His lips were soft, and he smelled like firewood. You feel his hands exploring your body before lifting you up with him and setting you on the bed. With one swift motion, he removes his shirt revealing his chest.

His gaze burned with intensity as he hovered over you, his hands tracing the curves of your body.

“You are absolutely perfect.” He says, making you blush. “Oh darling, are you blushing?”

“Will you do something already?” You burst, he smirks at his work.

“As you wish.” He says ripping the shirt you’re wearing open, exposing your breasts. “No bra? Naughty girl.”

“Loki! That was my only shirt!”

“Shh, Let me take care of you.”

Lowering his head to your chest he begins to suck on one of your nipples, causing your back to arch towards him. You gasped, your breath catching in your throat as his mouth enveloped your sensitive flesh. His tongue swirled around your nipple, eliciting a heating sensation that spread through your entire body.

"Loki..." you murmured, your voice shaky with desire.

His hands continued their exploration, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin beneath your navel, drawing a low groan from your lips. You arched beneath him, your hips bucking against the sensations he created.

“Loki, I need you,” you whisper, your voice a husky plea. His eyes meet yours making your heart pound against your chest.

“I’m here, love. I’ve got you.” He says as he sits back on his knees. Unbuckling his pants, you watch as you lick your lips.

Freed from the confines of his pants, Loki's erection stood proudly at attention, a testament to his arousal. His heart was pounding with anticipation as he looked down at you, his desire for you clear in his eyes.

With a deep breath, he began to undress you next. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the thought of what was about to happen. It had been almost 6 years since you had even been intimate. The thought almost scared you. But Loki's touch was gentle, tender, and full of affection. He didn't rush, taking his time to explore every inch of your body, making sure you felt safe and comfortable.

His erection was so hard, pressing against your leg as he worked to get you undressed. He was right there, in front of you, ready and willing to give you pleasure. And you were ready to receive it.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid my eyes on.” He says as he positions himself above you. “Are you ready to be fucked by a God?”

“Please, Loki, just fuck me.”

With a growl, Loki entered you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. Fireworks seemed to ignite inside you, and your eyes widened with pleasure and surprise. Moaning loudly, you tremble as he slowly pushes deeper into you. Tears fall down the side of your face, before he brushes them away.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“You’re just bigger than I thought.” You say and he chuckles.

“I can stay right here until you’re ready.”

You nod and smile up at him. Leaning down he kisses you softly, hands roaming your sides and chest. Moaning softly, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. Loki groaned in response, his eyes locked on yours as he thrust into you just a bit more.

Just as you were getting used to him, he pulls out and thrusts into you causing you to loudly moan. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue dueling with yours as he continued to take you. The room seemed to spin around you as the intensity of the moment washed over you both.

Your hands grip onto his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin as the intensity of the moment builds. Loki's eyes are locked onto yours, sweat coating his forehead and he finally pushes all the way in. You both sigh heavily.

"Loki..." you breathe out, your voice filled with lust. Hearing his name seemed to drive him wild, as he thrust into you harder, deeper. Your body arches off the bed, a primal need taking over as he claims you.

His breathing is ragged, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment before finding your face once more. “I need you on top of me.”

Before you have a chance to react, he flips you both. In that moment, you feel closer to him than you ever have before. His cock buried deep inside of you, your pussy clenching around him tightly.

You begin to ride him, setting the pace, your movements slow and passionate at first, then faster and more fervent as the carnal need between you takes over. The bed creaks beneath you, and your bodies move in perfect synchronicity.

Your hands grab onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh as you ride him harder. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

Loki watches you with a mix of lust and love in his eyes, his hands gripping your hips, guiding you, thrusting into you as you arch your back, your breasts bouncing with every movement. The room is filled with the hot sound of skin slapping against skin, and your hips moving in a steady rhythm.

He reaches up to caress your breasts, his fingers gently teasing your sensitive nipples. The sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you moan loudly. His hips buck up to meet your every move, his eyes never leaving yours. He groans loudly as you continue your relentless pace, your hair swaying around your face, framing his face in its movement.

Your pussy clenches around his cock, and he growls, his grip tightening on your hips. The room seems to spin as you continue to move, your body trembling with each thrust.

You can feel the pleasure building deep within you, the heat of your climax slowly igniting and spreading through your entire body. Your breaths come in short gasps, and your eyes flutter shut as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation.

With a scream of pure ecstasy, you arch your back, nails scraping across his chest. Your entire body shakes as your orgasm takes hold. Loki's thrusts become more erratic, his grunts and groans filling the room as he battles to hold on, to stay with you in this moment.

Finally, with a roar that fills the room, Loki thrusts deep inside you one last time before he begins to cum. Liquid white pleasure coursing through both of your veins. You collapse onto him, panting heavily as you try to catch your breath. Your body is still trembling with aftershocks of your orgasm.

Loki's hands gently caress your body, tracing the outline of every curve and contour he can reach. His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, the culmination of the passion between you both.

"You alright, love?" he whispers, finally pulling away from the kiss.

You smile up at him, the love and adoration shining in your eyes. "I've never felt so alive."

He chuckles softly, his breath still labored from the intensity of your lovemaking. "Come here."

He slowly pulls out and helps you lay on the bed next to him. Resting your head on his strong chest, you listen to the steady beat of his heart, feeling safe and connected. Loki's arm wraps around you, pulling you closer to his warm body.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?" he asks, stroking your hair.

“For finding me today.”

Loki's lips press against your forehead, his eyes crinkled with affection. “I would find you in any timeline. Obviously.”

You smile, his heart reminds you of Luke’s. It was good, of course there were rough patches but he was a good person. Loki was a god, but he was also a man. As the afterglow of your passion starts to fade, Loki moves to pull the covers over the both of you.

“We need to figure out where to go from here, Loki.” You say matter of factly.

“We will, darling.” He responds, “But let’s rest for now. It’s been a long day.”

His grip on your waist tightens as if he was afraid of losing you. Your own heart swells with appreciation. Maybe by some divine intervention you were finally given a second chance. Something you had been waiting ages for.

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