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shelleylovesloki · 2 years ago

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Warped Reality

Summary: Being a student at the Sanctum Sanctorum is never easy, especially when there is a group of rogue sorcerers led by a mad man on the lose. Rose (Michelle) and Rachel never thought their lives could become any more chaotic. But when Rachel is given an assignment to hunt down Amadeus Rainer, a rogue sorcerer from the Sanctum, their lives both take a drastic turn. Besides a band of evil sorcerers, they are pulled into the mission to retrieve an infinity stone with the potential to open other realms. But while on this mission, past traumas are reopened, powers rediscovered, and realities reshaped in ways that both women never could have imagined. And with the help of a certain God of Mischief, the three sorcerers run into an ancient prophecy that could open up their universe to a villain that reshapes the understanding of magic itself.

Chapter 4: Stolen Identity

Walking through the streets of New York, Michelle kept even pace with Dr. Strange. So many questions flowed through her head that needed answers.

“So what has happened to Rachel?” She asked the Sorcerer Supreme.

Strange looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“I do not know.” He replied bluntly.

Michelle raised a brow at him.

“Then why bring me out of the Sanctum?” She asked.

“Like I said before, Rose, you are the only student here skilled in more than one form of magic. You have power like no other here at the Sanctum.” He explained,

“Besides you.” Michelle muttered, annoyance dripping from her tone.

“I heard that.” Strange monotoned,

A red tint covered her cheeks as she apologized.

“It’s alright. You have every right to be annoyed. I haven’t really told you much.” Strange said as they passed by strangers on the street.

Michelle weaved through the citizens of New York City as she followed beside the Master of the Mystic Arts.

“I have spotted a beacon on the other side of the city. I have no clue as to its purpose, but at the same time I am worried about its meaning.” The Sorcerer Supreme replied after a seconds pause.

Michelle wasn’t fooled by his twisted words.

“You think it has something to do with Rachel? Do you?” She asked as a man with a brief case gave her a strange look.

She rolled her eyes as she ignored him. It wasn’t everyday you saw two sorcerer’s march through New York in the open. But no one had an issue when the Avengers went on their excursions.

“Yes,” Strange sighed as he finally spoke up, “Yes I do.”

There was silence for a moment as they came to a crosswalk. The Doctor pressed the button on the pole before looking at her.

“You knew Amadeus long ago, didn’t you?”

Michelle looked at the Sorcerer Supreme with a warning written in her eyes.

“Yes...I did. We were never close though. There was something off about him each time I would run into him, an unaired darkness of sorts. But it was not like Kaecilius or his followers. Those guys gave me the creeps. It was more chaotic than world ending, like he was hiding something from the world.” Michelle said as she got lost in her own world.

The orange hand turned to the walking white stick figure, and Strange grabbed her wrist to pull her forward across the road. Horns blared and people chattered as they walked across the street. Michelle looked up to see a strange beacon of white light that lit up the cloudy sky from behind a few skyscrapers. How not one of the pedestrians noticed it was beyond her. The beacon was a few blocks away.

“You expect us to walk the whole way down there?” She asked him.

The Doctor looked at her.

“You wanna take a cab?” He asked sarcastically.

“I’m good.” Michelle replied bluntly as the sorcerer released her wrist.

They walked for a little while in silence before the Sorcerer Supreme spoke, “So you were never friends with Amadeus?”

Michelle shook her head.

“No, Rachel and I never tried to befriend him. Besides, I was too caught up in trying to figure out my own demons than to try and make new friends at the Sanctum. It’s hard to interact with others anyway when you are going through an identity crisis.” She said, rubbing the back of her head timidly.

The bumps of her fishtail braid ran under her hand.

Strange nodded,

“I had no idea. Did you try to find some help for it?” He asked.

Michelle shook her head.

“No. I felt as if no one would listen no matter what I said. I mean who would listen to a witch trying to find her roots who rebels against the Sanctum teachings? Not very many in my mind. I mean, I did tell Rachel some of the crap I was going through and Sage as well, but I still felt utterly and numbly alone in the world.” Michelle said as her voice became quiet, almost closed off.

“I will not pry. I’m just glad you got through the pain yourself. Lots of people have trouble navigating their sea of emotions.” Strange replied.

“Well, I’m used to taking on the world alone since I was placed in that orphanage many years ago. It wasn’t much to me.” She said writing off how she truly felt.

“You are truly a great liar, Rose. You would put others to shame.” Strange commented, making her sigh.

“I’m serious, Doctor. I was alright.” She argued as they turned down the street into an alleyway.

“And so am I. No one just bottles up their feelings and doesn’t implode at some point. So when did you?” He asked her as they stopped by a ladder to the rooftops.

Michelle quickly put a cloaking spell over them both as she replied, “Can we discuss this later?”

Strange shook his head.

“You need to hear it. The lies, the mischievous antics, the careless attitude, Rose, you and I know you are hurting. This personality you have created for yourself will not shield the vulnerable hurting girl inside you. It will only mask it. I know you want to be the daughter your parents would have seen grow up, but you need to face the truth. They are gone. No matter how much magic you study and how many tattoos you get to commemorate their memory, you will never be whole.” Strange replied.

Michelle pursed her lips as she forced away the tears.

“I am done with this conversation, Doctor. Let’s just find Rachel so we can head back to the Sanctum.” She said softly before climbing the metal rungs of the ladder.

When they reached the top of the building, the first thing Michelle saw was a trench coat. She frowned and squinted her eyes to see Rachel under the article of clothing. Her eyes grew wide.

“Rachel!” She yelled as Strange and her ran to the young woman’s side.

The Sorcerer Supreme knelt down to assess her for any wounds.

“She’s alright. Just asleep.” He said waving for her to come closer.

Michelle knelt down beside him.

“Can you lift the magic?” He asked her.

Michelle nodded and slowly put her hand over Rachel. Her tattoos lit up a deep purple as purple wisps flew out of her fingertips. The light went into Rachel causing her eyes to fly open. Strange kept her steady as Michelle pulled away from her. The beacon slowly began to fade around them, the white glow fading into an inky darkness.

“It’s alright Rachel.” Strange said as he calmed down the heavily breathing student.

She looked at him.

“Doctor Strange, I almost had him, but he bested me.” She replied, her tone deeply upset.

“It’s alright Rachel. We can find another way.” Strange replied.

Michelle looked around for any clues as to where he could have gone. Her eyes glowed a deep purple as she used her sight to find clues. Footprints lit up a deep purple around her, but most of them went towards the other side of the building. She got to her feet as she began to follow them.

Strange watched her curiously.

“Rose, what are you-”

Rachel put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

Michelle walked over to the other side of the building and peered over the edge. What she saw confirmed her suspicions. A circle of purple magic floated below her. He had teleported away.

“He’s gone. Teleported away to who knows where at this point.” She commented as she walked back over to the two, her eyes returning to their normal brown.

Strange looked down in thought.

“I’ll have to discuss this with Wong and Mordo before we plan our next move.” He said quietly to himself.

“So am I free to return to class now?” Michelle asked, trying to get out of what she knew to be coming.

Dr. Strange looked at her knowingly.

“No Rose, I need Rachel and you to come with me to this meeting. You are now both involved in this assignment.”

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glorioustidalwavedefendor · 2 months ago

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And like there were ways to make parallels to Thanos and Tony. These are both powerful men who have so many ways they could help the world, but don't because they have a narrow view of what the right way is and will only do things their way.

That would have been so cool

Especially If Tony realizes it

Especially Especially if Tony realizes it after Loki said something and Tony conected the dots ...

You know what I hate most about Tony getting to kill Thanos??? Is that it directly disrupts Nebula’s story and character arch!!!!

From the first time we meet her in GOTG vol. 1 we know she has an axe to grind with Thanos, and then she states a clear goal to kill him at the end of GOTG vol. 2.

Her motive to kill him is well defined and justified; being mutilated by him throughout all of her life, being forced to fight with her siblings, being verbally, mentally, emotionally, and physically abused by Thanos, being made into his pawn to do his dirty work, and getting revenge for Gamora who was personally murdered by Thanos and wasn’t randomly dust in the snap.

The GOTG movies do a fantastic job of setting up Nebula’s revenge plot, for not just for herself but for Gamora as well, but Endgame has to go and fuck that up as well.

The Russo’s threatment of violently undoing Thor and Steve’s character arch’s we already know about, but how they flagrantly ignore the writing on the wall that Gunn left them for finishing Nebula’s character arch is just bad film making! Plain and simple!

Why does Tony get to kill Thanos??? What literary and thematic merit does that decision have??? I’ll tell you! It doesn’t have any!

Tony is the least qualified character in the entire roster to get to kill Thanos!

He didn’t lose anyone in the snap, not a single soul! He came out on top with Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy all still alive. He spent those five years not helping anyone, but sitting on a lake with his trophy and his kid, relishing in happiness that others lost and couldn’t get back. He didn’t even want to undo the snap! He had to be persuaded into helping! He was happy so why should he have to risk that happiness to bring back trillions???

He knew Thanos for maybe an hour??? He has no personal connection to him or spent enough time with him to warrant giving him the final shot!

If you’re so sexist to let Nebula do it, characters like Thor or even fucking Hawkeye, have more right to kill him than Stark does!

Having a character with literally no ties to the main villain kill him instead of the character who’s entire arch has been about revenge and freeing herself from his pain, is BAD FILM MAKING!!!!

Nebula’s character is defined by the pain and suffering that Thanos inflicted on her. She’s always lived under his fear, his torment, and it would have been a beautiful cap to her arch if she had gotten revenge on the man that stole her free will, her body, and sister.

But instead, we got most privileged character in the entire fucking franchise killing the big bad evil dude that he had no connections to, dying like a martyr and then getting a big bullshit funeral that other more deserving characters didn’t get.

Yes, Steve and Thor were done absolutely fucking dirty by Endgame, but no one in that movie was robbed like Nebula was robbed.

#I too would have loved if all four had killed Thanos #like they all try alone nad fail #and then they try as a team #Loki to fight the magic #becasue Thanos should be more then just a purple bully #in the comics he is a master of magic but Marvel is allergic to magic ...#Thor as Tank #and Nebula and Gamora as distraction

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violetflowerswrites · 5 months ago

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Sweet Relief

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: servant/master, possession, religious-ish themes, dom/sub, sex pollen, cockwarming, oral (female receiving), pain/discipline, fingering, p in v sex, language, 18+

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: I’m rewatching the Marvel movies in order and my god. I forgot how absolutely diabolical and adorable young Loki is! I was inspired to make this VERY smutty, all-porn-no-plot fic. Takes place before the events of Thor 1. Hope you enjoy my first Loki fic!

Tags: @foxherder @lovingchoices14

The long linen fabric of your healer’s tunic brushed against the cold marble floor as you rushed past. Your steps were gentle and quick, trying to make next to no sound as you swept past the tall columns, and arched ceilings of the royal halls. Finally outside the gilded wood of the giant doors to his bed chambers, your breath seemed to stall in your lungs.

This simply was not done. You were approached, never doing the approaching yourself. Improper didn’t even begin to describe what you were doing.

Your gentle knock was virtually silent the first time, so you steeled yourself and tried again.

“Identify yourself.”

A lazy voice called from within, but his tone was laced with an undeniable authority.

You spoke your name, placed your title in front of it.

Healer.

You weren’t a lady, a warrior—hell, you weren’t even nobility.

You belonged to a class of healers in Asgardian society. Seen as a type of servant, but respected nonetheless. To serve in the court meant you had a sizable talent for basic magic, and for spiritual healing.

But, if you were a woman in this position, it also meant you were a glorified prostitute.

You and your healer sisters before you have served in the healing room for centuries, servicing warriors, tending to their injuries after battle. But Asgard has long been in a season of peace, so the healers needed to fill another role.

Asgard was now a land of paradise, a land of plenty. That is, plenty of food, drink, beauty, wealth, and of course, plenty of sex. The nobility needed a way to make this discreet. After all, the royal court could hardly be seen having frivolous dalliances with just anyone. They needed to marry for alliance, for power, and for proper bloodlines, of course.

That’s where the healers came in. Come to the healing room for a sleeping draught, or an ointment for a sore shoulder, and get a service on top of it. You and your sisters were carefully trained in the ways of pleasure, and secrecy.

But, here you were, in front of your Lord’s chambers, breaking every rule and propriety ingrained in you since you first worked in the court as a young girl.

“Enter.” He commanded.

With shaky hands, you pushed the heavy bedroom doors open with your slender muscles.

The sight was grand, and a bit unexpected. Thick, dark green drapes covered the walls from ceiling to floor, and deep cherry wood bookshelves lined an entire side of the bedroom. A fireplace and candles were lit, making the chambers seem warm, yet a tinge ominous. A sharp contrast to the golden pearly halls of the rest of Asgard’s royal chambers.

Loki sat at a massive wooden desk, cleaved from the center of an oak tree, and absolutely littered with a number of bottles and vials, books and scrolls. A lone curtain was left half open, letting in what little light was left of the setting summer sun.

He addressed you disinterestedly, not even bothering to lift his head up from his book.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Healer?” Loki called out quietly across the vast room.

Your back was pressed up against the door, unable to get your feet to move. Your body disobeyed what your mind wanted, forgetting to curtsey or even duck your head. Instead, your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Loki took a beat in your silence and chuckled lowly to himself.

“I must say, this is quite unexpected, and against the rules I might add.”

Amusement glittered in his eyes at the mention of breaking the rules.

After all, he was the God of Mischief. Breaking the rules was his bread and butter.

Loki finally gazed up and took you in more carefully, wondering why a healer such as yourself would dare incur the wrath of your order by entering a nobleman’s chambers without permission, let alone the prince of Asgard.

Second prince of Asgard, but a prince nonetheless.

Then he noticed you, really noticed you.

He took in your flushed face, the way you absentmindedly kept rubbing your hands up and down your arms as you hugged yourself, and your thighs pressing your legs together to seek any sort of relief you could.

Even from across the room, Loki’s god-eyes could see the steady thrumming of the vein on your neck, moving rapidly with your heartbeat. He wanted to taste your skin and feel your pulse under his hot tongue.

Loki was a keen observer. Knowing how to read body language, facial expressions, and tone of voice was more important than any magical mischief he could get up to. Reading people was enough to get him most things that he wanted in life.

And right now, he decided he wanted you.

“You may approach, Healer.”

As if the spell had been broken, you swallowed to wet your dry throat and stepped towards the prince.

“How did you get past the guards?” Loki questioned.

“I said you needed a sleeping draught. You’ve been having trouble falling asleep for the past few days.” Your voice came out squeaky and feeble, a far cry from your usual tone.

Loki pursed his lips. This was not untrue.

“Leave it here.” He gestured casually to the desk and went back to his reading, while keeping half an eye on you.

Your trembling hands set down the small bottle of liquid with a bit of a clatter, and you quickly stepped back, just a few feet from where Loki sat.

“There’s something else.” Loki murmured lowly, eyes still flicking over the pages.

“Yes.” You breathed out.

Before you could begin to state your wild request, Loki said something else that you didn’t expect.

“I know you.”

You flitted your eyes up at his handsome face, and was startled by his piercing blue gaze. Quickly, you looked down at your feet.

The younger prince of Asgard had long since caught your eye. Every time he returned from battle you snatched the opportunity to treat him.

Rumor had it that he rarely asked for a healer's services, even when he was at the peak of adolescence. Some said he had a taste for the other sex. Others said he found his pleasure off-planet.

Whereas Thor openly indulged in excess, including women, drink, and violence, Loki was careful, calculated, and purposeful in all his actions. His mysterious, unreadable nature only served to make him more attractive to you.

“Yes, m’Lord. I have treated your injuries before, alongside other sisters.”

“You sang to me.”

You gasped, shocked that he remembered. It was a particularly gruesome battle and Loki was crushed badly in the side. You and your sisters forced him into a spell-induced sleep so that you could bind his broken bones. The Queen was distraught and ordered a round-the-clock watch to ensure he was healing well. You ended up on night watch, singing lullabies when he fought demons in his sleep.

“I did not know you heard me, m’ Lord.” You whispered, the heat inside of you coming out in waves off your hot skin.

“Speak freely. What is it that you request of me?” Loki schooled his tone to sound detached, but you could hear the curiosity in his words.

Sucking in a breath, you relayed a stuttered story of how a nobleman asked the healers to create a love potion that would increase ones libido, but it would only work against someone they were attracted to. Eventually, they would be like a dog in heat, and could only be relieved by intense pleasuring from a potential lover.

And you were the unlucky soul who got “volunteered” to take the experimental potion on a test run.

Although they tried their utmost, your sisters were unable to bring you relief and now, a few hours later, you sought after your long-time crush, Loki.

Hoping he’d do something to help relieve you of your suffering.

Although what, you didn’t dare dream of.

Ashamed, you bowed your head, looking at the marble floor and wishing a hole would open up and sink you into the dark waters below your realm.

At best, he’d let you go back to the healing room and never speak of this again. At worst, he’d have you arrested and banished for attempting such a lecherous act against a prince of Asgard.

“Sit.”

Your head jerked up, and you stared. Loki wasn’t looking at you though, he was back to his book, but his palm patted his muscular thigh.

Gods, was he asking you to sit in his lap?

You slowly brought a leg over his until your core straddled his hips. His cool body temperature immediately soothed your hot one, and you carefully brought your arms to clasp behind his neck.

Moving quickly before he changed his mind, you immediately put your training to use.

“Would my Lord like a massage?” You offered quietly.

“Yes, darling, that would be lovely.” Loki agreed nonchalantly, again, eyes still glued to his book.

Your strong fingers squeezed the tight knots on Loki’s shoulders, feeling the firm, yet lean muscles there. You pulled up his flesh, pressing deeply until the tension melted away in your hands.

Moving upwards, you combed your fingers through his jet-black hair, massaging his scalp, and temples.

The man gave no signs at all that he was affected by your touch, or by having an attractive young woman in his lap.

But then, he turned, exposing a pale neck underneath the raised leather collar of his garments. You took that as an invitation to press your lips to his smooth skin. Loki could feel your warm breath exhale in a contented sigh as your thumbs continued to knead circles, followed by soft kisses all over his neck, up his jaw, behind his ear.

Even with your face pressed to his, you almost missed what he whispered next.

“Warm my cock for me, dearest.”

An uncontrollable whimper escaped from your lips at his dirty words.

To be fully honest, you didn’t know how far Loki was going to let you take this. And the answer seemed to be…

All the way.

You pulled off your undergarments and undid the buttons of his leather trousers. His member was already half-erect, but it came to life fully as you gently rubbed him in both of your warm hands.

Your head fell onto his shoulder, and you could feel the breath catch in his chest as his cock breached your tight entrance.

Your eyes squeezed shut immediately at the contact, having not loosened your sensitive core beforehand, and Loki was large. His member wasn’t the thickest you’ve ever had, but it was slender, and long.

Slowly, carefully, you sank down, half-way at first, taking a pause to adjust, then further in until your ass rested on his lap once again.

The tip of his cock pushed up against your cervix, and you’ve never felt more full in your life.

Relaxing, you pressed your chest to his, leaning in as your core wrapped its hot, moist flesh around him. Loki for his part, was completely silent, reaching his arms behind your back to continue flipping through his book.

“What are you reading?” You murmur, content to just be filled for the time being. The initial stage of insatiable desire had been temporarily slaked by simply having his length inside of you.

“A spell-book on illusion magic. Could be useful for battle, or tricking my brother.” A soft chuckle rumbled through his body, the vibrations stimulating your center immediately.

You moaned, losing yourself in pleasure, but Loki shushed you gently.

“Be a good girl and sit quietly. I want to finish this section.”

So you did. After having spent the past few hours in heat, having any kind of relief now was enough to lull you into a daze. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire, the crinkle of pages of Loki’s book, and your quiet breath.

Every so often, he would shift his weight and it would push his cock in a different part of your core. You bit your lip each time to keep from making any noise, but the wetness that leaked from your pussy betrayed your arousal. You were sure that Loki’s thighs would be soaked by the time he finished reading.

Abruptly, Loki snapped his book shut with a bang. You flinched automatically at the loud sound.

“That’s enough, my dear.” He stated with finality.

You gingerly pulled yourself off, his still-hard member slipping out of your core, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. Legs wobbly from sitting straddled wide for so long, you tried your best to look put together, smoothing down your tunic, and taking a tentative step back.

“My Lord, thank you for—“ you attempted a statement of propriety, assuming that you were being dismissed.

Wordlessly, Loki grabbed you roughly by the neck and hauled you forward, an arm pulling your hips against his as he crushed you with a kiss.

Your body melted into his immediately, overwhelmed by the pressure of his lips against yours, his tongue forcing his way into your mouth, and —gods was that teeth?—nipping at your lower lip. You had no idea that a kiss could be so utterly demanding and violent.

Loki wasn’t just kissing you.

He was devouring you.

“It’s time for some discipline, healer. Do you know what a bad girl you’ve been tonight?” Loki growled against your neck, biting you not quite so gently there.

“No, tell me m’ Lord.” The response breathed out through bruised lips. Your pupils were blown out with lust and so were his.

“No? Then, I’ll help you count each disobedience.”

With that, Loki pulled your tunic and shift off, leaving you completely exposed before him.

“Exquisite,” he murmured, while licking his lips.

Roughly, he wrenched your arm and pulled you towards his generous bed, throwing you down the middle of the lush mattress.

Before you had a chance to sit up, he flipped you onto your stomach and smacked a hard slap to your ass.

“Fuck!” The expletive exploded out of you at the sharp sting.

“Number one: deceiving the guards.”

Another slap hit your other ass cheek.

“Number two: sneaking into the royal chambers.”

His hand met your bottom again.

“Number three: sneaking into my bedroom, a prince of Asgard no less.”

Another hit. The skin of your ass was already inflamed pink with the first few smacks.

Loki watched the color bloom before slowly raking his icy-blue eyes across your body. A sheen of sweat had broken out along your back and your face was buried in the sheets.

Loki’s never hurt a girl in the bedroom before, but seeing the redness of your ass, and feeling the tingling remnants of each slap on his own hand. Well, that awoke something sinister in his heart, and his loins.

“Number four: you were a fool to take the love potion. You are supposed to be a healer, not a witch.”

This next blow from Loki was even stronger than the last. The contact with your tender skin echoed off the high ceiling of his bedroom.

“Hells—Loki you are going to leave a mark!” The pain had you gritting your teeth, and temporarily forgetting your manners.

Hearing his name roll off your tongue made him laugh with delight. Who knew he would have so much fun punishing a troublesome little girl like you?

He leaned forward, pressing his erection into the swell of your ass, and spoke lowly into your ear.

“My darling, when I’m done with you, your body will be marked permanently.”

The threat made you shut your mouth and turn your burning face away from his, speechless.

“Number five: you were a fool to seek out me for relief.”

The final hit was the most painful. Loki lifted both of his hands and brought them down with so much force that you let out a scream of shock, pain, and pleasure all at once.

He immediately squeezed your pliant flesh in his palms, massaging the slap-warmed skin there.

After a moment of silence, he released his touch altogether and sat back on the bed, watching you.

Cautiously, you crawled up on your hands and knees and sat up, using your arms to hold up your weight rather than sitting on your tender bottom.

He studied your face in quiet contemplation as he watched a mixture of emotions course through you.

Pain, of course.

A bit of fear.

Apprehension, understandably.

But as you drew in shaky breaths, staring back at him, he saw what he was hoping for.

Attraction. Lust. Arousal. Greed.

Even after all of that, you still wanted him. Hells, even without the potion coursing through your veins you would have still wanted to fuck him.

The dominant, torturous streak was a surprise, but you never knew what Loki was capable of, to begin with.

Everything was a surprise with him.

And yet, you craved so much more.

Suddenly gentle, Loki guided you backwards until your head hit his soft pillows.

He settled in between your legs, prying them apart until his face was inches away from your puffy inner lips.

“How did that feel, my dear?” He pressed kisses against your inner thighs, loving how smooth and soft your skin was.

“It hurt.” You ground out, indignance lacing your tone, trying not to show how anything Loki did to you felt good.

Better than good. He was better than any nobleman you’ve ever had to service before. Sex with them was vanilla, predictable. Loki was anything but.

“Ah, but you liked it. Didn’t you, sweet girl?” He paused and looked up at you with those baby blues.

Underneath his steady gaze, you knew there was no point in lying. Loki could see through you in a heartbeat.

“Yes. It felt good.” You confessed.

Tutting with that silver tongue of his, endearments and praise continued to pour out of that sly mouth.

And kisses. Hot, wet, soft kisses to every part of your inner thighs, your mound, your puffy pussy lips.

“You naughty girl. Entering my chambers, asking me to give you relief.”

He pressed his lips to you.

“Sitting on my cock, letting me fill up that tight cunt of yours.”

A regal nose brushed against your slit, dragging wetness up your core.

“Enjoying pain with your pleasure. Letting me ravage your body. You’re a temptress, my sweet.”

A deep inhale. Gods, Loki was breathing in your sex right in front of you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your nails digging into your palms.

“Did you know, darling, that I could smell you the second you entered my chambers?” He exhaled, warm air tickling the moisture leaking out of you.

You didn’t dare reply, knowing that all that could come out of you now would be whines of lust.

“You, my dear, are ripe.”

With that, Loki dove head first into your cunt, licking and sucking like you were his favorite dessert.

The potion made your pussy swollen and sensitive, so everything he did felt ten times more pleasurable than anything your sisters tried.

Your hands gripped his wide shoulders and your knees fell apart as he ate you out.

“Loki—my Lord, I, I can’t!” You stammered out, head falling back as you enjoyed his worship of your pussy.

“Cat got your tongue, dear?” Loki joked, before taking your clit in between his perfect teeth.

“Fuck!” You positively screamed, which only made Loki double down.

Finally, he let go and you slowly loosened your grip, not realizing that you had been knuckle deep in his beautiful hair, tugging it, tangling it in your fingers. You saw pink half moons littered on the pale skin of his neck and face, evidence of your nails digging into his flesh.

Taking a beat to breathe, you smoothed his locks down on his head.

“Did I hurt you?” You inquired, feeling ashamed that you had lost yourself so completely in your lust.

“Yes. But I liked it, dearest. You can hurt me as much as you want to. Just as long as I can do the same.”

The dirty confession made your heart stutter in your chest, eyes wide. Seeing your expression, Loki laughed aloud, the sound blessing your ears.

He crawled up your body now, straightening your legs.

“Let’s see how ready you are for me, hmm?” Loki inserted one finger, then another into your pussy.

“Gods! That feels—!” You whined.

“Good, isn't it?” Loki finished for you. “Now, what about…here?”

He curled his digits upwards and put delicious pressure onto your spongy inner center.

Waves of stimulation shot through your limbs as your voice cried out in broken moans.

“Your knees are trembling, sweet girl.” Loki observed with amusement.

Indeed they were, and they continued to shake uncontrollably as Loki clamped down even harder, his fingers thrusting now.

“I-I can’t help it!” You cried out again, as Loki kissed your breasts, his hot mouth finding purchase on an erect nipple.

Your hands gripped his wrist and he couldn’t tell if you were trying to pull his hand out, or push it in deeper.

Regardless, he ground his palm against your clit, scissoring his digits inside of you, stretching you.

Preparing you.

“Oh my—I’m gonna cum!” You screamed out. Loki had already made you cum a few times. First, when his cock filled you up as you were sitting on his lap. Second, when he bit down on your clit.

And now, with his skilled fingers, he was making your pussy spasm and weep under his touch.

The orgasm was powerful, your whole body jerking up against his. With his free hand, Loki held you down, enjoying the wild ride.

Finally, as you relaxed, Loki released you and sat back. His forehead dappled with sweat, and his own breath coming in hard.

You couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Loki, your prince, was pleasuring, no—worshiping your body like it was his personal gift from Valhalla. He made you feel pleasure at heights you didn’t know existed. Somehow, he simply knew your body even though this was the first time he had ever touched you.

Lost in post-orgasm bliss, your eyes lazily traveled down to his still clothed erection, fighting to get out of his trousers. A thought crossed your mind.

“My Lord, can I undress you?” You murmured, locking eyes with him.

Loki didn’t reply, instead, he simply watched your naked body approach his clothed one as you slowly snaked your hands up his torso. You found each flap, each button, and slowly undid it all as his garments fell down in pieces on the bed.

You pulled his pants off his long legs, and his cock bounced up to greet you. With a gasp of joy, you pressed a soft kiss to his member and continued your kisses up the toned flesh of his chest until you got to his lips.

The action was intimate, like what lovers would do. And Loki let you touch him, admire him, without a word.

In the last bit of light of sunset, Loki’s skin glowed golden orange. He shone like the god he is.

“Beautiful.” You whispered in awe.

An arrogant smile curved along his face and he cradled a hand along the back of your head. He pressed a long, sensual kiss to your warm mouth.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” He murmured the dirty words against your smiling lips.

Stalking over you like a predator hunts its prey, Loki climbed over your prone body, lining up his engorged cock with your weeping slit.

He watched you watch him as he slid in, inch by inch, your eyes watering as he forced his way into your cunt.

A self-satisfied smirk emerged on his face, knowing just how full he could make you feel.

Gently, he lowered his weight on top of you, pressing down so that his toned flesh covered your supple breasts and soft curves.

As he started to slowly thrust in and out of your tight core, Loki found both of your hands and brought them next to your head, interlacing his fingers with yours. Your palms were hot and sweaty, overwhelmed with the intimacy of his actions.

Summoning all the boldness you had inside of you, you dared your gaze to meet his and he was staring back at you with a mixture of lust and affection.

And also, possession.

Fuck.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Without warning, he pushed faster, his hips smacking into yours with a vengeance. You instinctively brought your knees up to allow him deeper access. The wet slap of his cock into your pussy was sinfully loud in the cavernous bedroom.

All manner of helpless yelps and whines came out of your throat, your hands squeezed his as he fucked you raw.

“You need to be fucked, hard and often, healer.” The way he said your title could have been synonymous with whore.

The intensity of his look was almost too much, daring you to look away, but you found that you couldn’t. You were entirely addicted to this man, stronger than any drug you could have created in the healing room.

By Odin, he was the only one for you.

You pressed your forehead to his as he continued to slam his cock deep inside of your womb.

“I’m yours, my Lord.” The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them.

“Loki.” An unreadable expression crossed his face as Loki pushed himself up. He pulled your legs to wrap around his hips as he knelt on the bed. Your pussy was still clenched around his cock and you took the opportunity to suck in a few deep breaths.

“Wha-what?” You panted, confusion furrowing your brow.

“Say my name. Say that you belong to me.” Loki commanded. He rose up, pulling his shoulders back, looking every bit like the prince, the god that he is. His dark hair was pushed back on his forehead, sleek with sweat, framing his sharp features like a crown.

Automatically obedient, the declaration left your lips with sincerity and conviction.

“I belong to you, Loki.”

With a laugh of triumph, Loki grabbed the pliant flesh of your hips and slammed your body against his own. He railed your core with his cock, hitting deeper than you ever thought possible. Your ass slid along his strong thighs, the friction smarting your skin that was still tender from his earlier disciplining.

“Loki—it’s too much!” You cried out, losing yourself in pleasure.

“Cum for me, my sweet girl. Worship me with your cunt!” Loki growled out, thrusting impossibly harder, impossibly faster.

The sensation built and built, his name spilled out of your mouth in an endless stream of moans, until suddenly the pleasure peaked.

In that instance, time stopped. Your lips parted in a silent scream, and you saw him.

Veins bulged in his forearm as he pulled you flush against his hips. Nose scrunched up in effort as he fucked you deeply. His eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, wild in the throes of ecstasy.

Loki was your god.

And he was glorious.

Finally the air in your lungs released in a long-awaited scream and the orgasm crashed down. Nerve endings lit on fire, and your muscles jerked and spasmed underneath his strong grip. In the midst of your pleasure, you heard a faraway groan from your prince, and you could feel jets of hot cum coat the inside of your womb. He was marking you, claiming you as his.

You knew you would be his forever.

A few seconds later, Loki unceremoniously pulled out of your well-used pussy, and collapsed beside you, chest heaving with exertion.

Lying with one arm underneath his head, he lazily stroked your back as you curled up on his naked chest. Finally, the effect from the love potion had dissipated, leaving you with sweet relief.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence, but your mind started to swirl with insecure thoughts. You steeled your nerves to ask a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind.

“Why did you never use me?”

“What do you mean, my dear?”

“Why did you never take a lover? Or ask for a healer’s services? I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, that you’re—“ Your mouth shut with an audible clack of your teeth.

Your clumsy tongue always got ahead of yourself. Worried you may have crossed a line, your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

But Loki answered honestly.

“You’re not my first. But I have long since known that I can’t fuck and forget like my ape of a brother.” He grimaces, and breathes in deeply before saying more.

“When I have sex, I need to own them. Possess them. I'm sure you noticed my dominant streak, my darling.”

“Then why’d you let me come in tonight? Why take the risk?” You wondered aloud.

“I’ve been watching you, my sweet little healer.”

You tensed automatically in surprise. Since when? What did he see? Why did he notice you?

Loki’s gentle voice brought you out of your thoughts as he confessed more.

“If you hadn’t approached me tonight, I would have snatched you from the healing room and made you mine before long.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating deep within his chest as you lay on his skin.

The revelation sank in slowly until finally, Loki pulled you up until your face was level with his.

“You just beat me to it, you naughty girl.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, and your furrowed brow automatically relaxed.

“Tell me again. Will you belong to me, and only me?” He searched your eyes for any hint of deception, any trace of a lie.

You were certain that he would find none.

“Yes, Loki. I belong to you.”

…

#marvel #loki #loki laufeyson #Loki x reader #Loki laufeyson x reader #Thor #Thor 1 #Loki fic #Loki smut #Loki fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut

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lokisgoodgirl · 7 months ago

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Successional Pleasure: The Rite (II)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s very…interesting,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the rite 🕯️#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki imagine

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earlgreydream · 1 year ago

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His. | Loki x reader smut

I finally the Loki tv show… this does NOT have any spoilers, it’s set on Asgard with a newly appointed king and his coronation gift…

cw: d/s

“Leave any traces of fear in this room.” The command was clear, spoken sharply by a royal attendant.

Your gaze didn’t leave the fragrant water of the bath you knelt in, the attendant taking care to wash every inch of your skin. Other women pulled fluttering silks from a wardrobe, lying it out for you and finding jewelry to match. So much led to this moment, and yet it didn’t seem real — anticipation and anxiety buzzing in your head. You’d been told once already to contain the obvious fear that lingered in your chest, but the daunting task of doing so seemed impossible when your fate was waiting on a silver platter, the moment you left the private chamber you were being bathed in.

“Come, out of the water before your skin wrinkles,” you were hauled to your feet, wrapped in towels and rubbed down by several girls with movements so quick, you were barely left time to react.

Hands massaged your tense limbs, covering them in oils that bloomed with exotic scents, leaving your skin gleaming. At the same time, your hair was fixed, emeralds — his favorite — twisted into the locks and fastening to bare your neck.

“It’s customary to dress her in white,” a handmaiden spoke of you as if you were not there.

“The prince prefers black.” The will of your all-powerful god silenced any protest, everyone moving to do his bidding.

The women fretted — you had to be perfect for him. They prepared you to be presented to the god, as a divine gift to honor the crown prince of Asgard. You were bathed, decorated, and dressed, all to please the god you were gifted to, an expectation that you’d been bred for. It was a great honor to be taken from the hills, to the castle of the gods, to walk amongst the divine, even if it meant your role was to do as your master saw fit, obeying every command. You had come to terms with it, knowing that upon prince Loki’s rise to the throne, you were the sacrifice — the gift — of the kingdom, a promise of good fortune and favor granted in return.

It all seemed like a far-away, distant dream in a future that would never come. Despite that, here you were, relinquishing your whole self to Asgard’s throne. You had never met the god, and never seen him up close. Of course you’d heard the stories, the wrath and prowess of the young prince, and even seen him from a distance — but being in his presence was something entirely new, before being expected to spend the rest of time at his mercy.

Asgardian silk draped over your skin, so light you wouldn’t know it was there. Your decency was concealed beneath expensive black fabric, hiding what was only meant for Loki to see in the moments after this. The handmaidens’ fussing finally ceased, ending the long evening of preparation.

“Come with me, and do as you’re told,” the woman in charge ushered you forward, opening the chamber doors, releasing you out of known captivity into unpredictability.

You swallowed the fear in your throat, steps silent as you followed her to the throne room, the festivities growing louder as you approached your fate. Before you were given a moment to hesitate, you were led into the cavernous room of gold and heavenly magic.

All at once, it fell silent as soldiers escorted you to the throne. There he was — the god himself, draped over his golden throne. Loki was the only one adorned finer than you, a golden helm atop his onyx waves, wild cerulean eyes that bore straight into your soul.

“Your majesty, a gift in exchange for your benevolence,” the ceremony’s representative from your kingdom presented you to Loki, a hand on your shoulder forcing you to kneel before the throne.

A dangerous smile curved the god’s lips, placing his scepter aside as he rose to his feet.

“A very generous gift indeed,” Loki’s lyrical voice wrapped around your throat, stealing the air from your lungs.

He was impossibly tall and lean as he approached you, toned muscles visible even through the heavy layers of leather and gold that adorned his figure. Loki was no mere prince, but a god of mischief, holding an entire world in the palm of his delicate hand. A dark mischief glittered in his eyes, the gorgeous royal leaning down to look closely at you.

He tilted your chin up, looking him directly in the eye, immediately disarmed and vulnerable as you did so. His expression changed almost imperceptibly, gone from his eyes in a flash as he looked away from you, addressing the court who had handed you over.

Your ears were ringing too loudly to hear what he said, your head spinning. A solider moved to guide you to sit at the base of the throne, at Loki’s feet, when you were suddenly snapped back into the present moment.

“You will not lay a hand on what is mine!” Loki’s shout thundered through the chamber, stopping the man before he could touch you.

The soldier quickly fell back, recognizing the lethal danger of disrespecting Loki. An entire room held its breath, the seconds agonizing, exhaling only when Loki motioned for festivities to resume.

Despite the advice to hide your fear, Loki could practical feel your startled fright. Everything else blurred into the background, the celebration entertaining itself, leaving you and Loki at the center of your own universe.

Loki leaned down with an outstretched hand, his expression softening as you met his gaze. He had not yet spoken directly to you, but you didn’t need instruction to place your hand in his, allowing his strength to move you forward. Loki guided you to kneel at his feet as he resumed his place on the throne, slotted between his long legs.

Delicate fingers gently tilted your chin to look up at him, the touch startlingly gentle, a stark contrast to what you’d been warned of.

“There is a long night of festivities ahead, you may rest on me if you grow weary,” Loki granted you permission to lie your head against his thigh, to sink back into the new shelter.

You gave a small nod of understanding, looking back down as his attention was demanded from another round of celebration.

Despite the dizzying commotion of Loki’s ceremony, your limbs became heavy and keeping your eyes open was a losing battle. Loki peered down at you as you slowly laid your head against his leg, letting your exhausted body rest for the first time.

A fierce desire to protect you swelled in Loki’s chest, suddenly cross with the noise and lights that combatted your sleep. As he continued to entertain offerings of exotic fruits and tributes from his kingdoms, Loki moved a leg in front of you, glaring at anyone who so much as looked too long in your direction.

He couldn’t imagine how drained you were, to sleep through the chaos. Your weight rested against his leg, though you didn’t let yourself fully drift into deep sleep, some part of you making sure that you were upright, not wanting to displease him.

Loki carefully supported you as he stood, lifting you off the floor with godly strength. The festivities continued without him — kings, gods, and valkyrie reenacting stories of battles and playing with magic in the great halls.

He’d had quite enough of the noise and empty affection, and desired nothing more than some quiet time alone with his offering.

“Careful,” he warned softly as you began to stir, strengthening his grip to keep you from falling.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled, your first words spoken in a haze of exhaustion.

“It’s alright, you’re free to rest,” Loki laid you down on his bed the moment you entered the privacy of his chambers.

Golden floors were etched in sweeping illustrations of history and mythology, telling the stories of your god beneath the bed draped in dark green silks. Huge doors opened to a veranda, a summer breeze ruffling the curtains, allowing glimpses of glittering astronomy overhead.

Your mind yearned to stay awake, to learn your surroundings and stay vigilant in the presence of Loki. Despite that, your body screamed for sleep, sinking into the soft bedding he had placed you on.

Loki watched you sleep.

Exhaustion kept your body rigidly still, not moving once the entire night. You stayed curled up in the very corner of the expansive bed, out of reach of Loki, who eventually took his place as the sun cracked the horizon.

The only indication you were real, was the gentle rise and fall of your back as you breathed. As you slept, the frightened expression vanished from your face, softening the your features. Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your almost peaceful face.

Loki drifted in and out of sleep, not bothering to wake you after such a late and overwhelming night. You must have been weary, because you couldn’t have been comfortable, making yourself as small as possible at the very edge of the bed, not wanting to take up too much of Loki’s space.

You slowly opened your eyes, sunlight streaming in through the open veranda. The morning seemed impossibly peaceful, despite waking up into a new life of servitude. This didn’t feel like what you’d expected — waking up in a comfortable bed with the warm sun on your face, the scent of breakfast wafting from a huge spread on the chamber’s dining table.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki’s voice was much softer in the privacy of the chambers, without an audience.

You sat up, looking over as he stood from a couch, setting aside a novel. He was more relaxed, wearing loose black linen, his hair tied up loosely.

“Hi,” you whispered, at a loss for words — partially in awe of how gorgeous he was, and partially cautious, as if he were a cobra waiting to strike at any wrong move.

He watched as you observed your surroundings, inspecting your golden cage in the light of day. Loki’s chambers were beautiful, bright, and serene. It seemed so divorced from the perception you had of the god before being let in to the most private part of his existence. Loki moved smoothly throughout the room, delicate hands attached to a lean, muscular body. Loki’s face was sculpted out of marble, so stunningly beautiful it left you breathless. Green eyes pierced straight into your soul, laid bare when he looked at you.

“Eat something,” he gestured to the feast at the table, as if he were the devil, offering food to a goddess to keep captive in his lair forever.

It was your job to obey, your body moving before your mind even considered protest. The shimmering gown you were wearing the night before swept the floor as you walked, Loki admiring how beautiful you were, even slightly disheveled.

You hesitantly took a berry from the table, bringing it to your lips, licking the sweetness off your fingertips. The sight stirred something inside of Loki, his gaze focusing on the contours of your body that were visible through the just-sheer parts of the fabric draped over you.

“Master?” You could feel the weight of his gaze, invisibly drawing you to him.

Loki stepped toward you, pleased as you sank to your knees without any encouragement, easing into his submission. You wanted it, needed it, like your lungs needed air. A shimmer of green made your clothing disappear, baring you fully to Loki’s intoxicated gaze.

“Look at you, fit for a god,” he praised, slowly circling you as you kneeled, appreciating you from every angle.

“Only for you, master.”

“Loki,” he permitted you to call him by name, a request that pulled the corners of your lips up with small satisfaction.

The floor was cold beneath your knees, and your skin began to prick beneath a cool breeze from the veranda. Loki swelled over the recognition that you were his, and his alone. He was hard in the loose linen pants, eager to claim full ownership of you in such an intimate way. You willingly surrendered to him, practically desperate for him to take you, to consummate your submission to the god.

Your hands smoothed up the solid muscles of Loki’s thighs — limbs you wish to be bent over — before clutching the linen waistband and dragging down his trousers. The sight of him hung heavy made your mouth water and your cunt throb, desire swirling in your belly.

“Go ahead. Touch me as you please, I’m as much yours as you are mine,” Loki murmured, realizing you were waiting for permission, to do as you were told.

Long fingers wove into your hair, cradling the side of your head, pulling only slightly as you licked the tip of his cock, sending a shock up his spine.

He leaned back against the wall, smirking as your left palm flattened over his toned abs to brace yourself, pleased that you were trusting his words.

“Gods,” Loki swore when you took him in your mouth, letting him push you down until he was filling your throat.

Pretty tears welled at your lashes at his size, your throbbing need beginning to smear between your thighs. Your free hand worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your tongue dragging up his shaft. He was both long and thick, his skin like velvet on your tongue. It was a feat to take even half of him in your mouth, and you moaned and the thought of him fucking you, and how you’d beg to take it all.

“If worshipping my cock makes you wet enough to drip on my floor, I’ll let you do it every morning,” Loki purred with a grin, clearly taking notice of the effect he had on your body.

“Please,” you whimpered respectfully, dragging your fist up his length, giving your mouth a break.

“I’m close, darling, you’re doing beautifully,” he praised, watching your thighs squeeze together at his words.

“I want to come in that gorgeous mouth, feel myself in your throat.”

You tilted your head back just a bit, both to gaze up into his eyes and to let him in deeper. A low whine vibrated around his cock as his hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing.

“Fuck,” Loki hissed, spilling over into your mouth, filling your senses with his salty taste.

“Swallow it,” Loki commanded, and you were all too willing to obey, wanting to please him.

His thumb swiped over your lips, cleaning up the bit of mess he made, kneeling in front of you as you both caught your breath.

“Was that okay?” the question slipped out before you could stop yourself, puzzling Loki.

“Of course, it was perfect. Haven’t you done it before?”

“No, I’ve been kept pure for you,” you answered, earning a profane string of Norse as his dick twitched.

“You’ve made me insatiable,” Loki pressed a quick, messy kiss to your mouth that was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“No!” Loki shouted, standing up, displayed in his full glory to the guard who opened the door.

The furious god stood in front of you, blocking any eyes from catching even a glimpse of your body.

“Get out, now, or I shall have your eyes torn out!” Loki thundered, fiercely possessive over you.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. Odin has called on you—”

A sharp burst of Loki’s magic sent the man flying backward with a yell, the door slamming shut behind him.

“I’m sorry-” you began, as if you needed to apologize for being nude.

“I will never let anyone else touch you, see your body, or covet what is mine.”

A warmth spread through you at the words, taking his hand to stand up. He took a cloth, carefully cleaning you up, before guiding you into a closet that was full of the finest Asgardian fabrics.

“We’ll continue this later, darling, but for now, you’ll accompany me on whatever nonsense I’m being summoned for,” Loki explained, moving to dress himself as he left you to choose what maids had left for your arrival.

You chose green, pleasing the god as you adorned his colors, another sign of your growing devotion. Loki kissed your wrist, before a band of gold appeared in a shimmer, bringing a smile to your face.

He wordlessly led you out of his chambers, a hand at the small of your back. Being with him was intense — but the castle and all of its people was overwhelming. You found yourself leaning into Loki’s side, away from the noise of shouting and chaos of the everyday happenings.

He looked up from the throne to see what was bothering you before pulling you to sit between his legs where you could sink back into him and ignore the noise.

“We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished. Until then, you can entertain yourself by picturing what I’m going to do to your precious little pussy,” Loki whispered against the side of your face, gently nipping your ear.

You shuddered against his chest, feeling him chuckle beneath you as his arm tightened on your waist. Warmth flushed your cheeks and you turned your face into his arm, shy at the filthy words from Loki. He could feel your heart racing inside your ribs, anxious to tear the emerald gown from your body.

You were lost in your thoughts when Loki banished everyone from the expansive throne room, giant doors embedded with gemstones slamming shut, sealing you alone with him.

“Now, where were we?” Loki asked, mouthing hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“I believe you were about to fuck me, Loki,” you chirped.

“I love hearing those dirty words on your lips, all for me.”

“Only you,” you promised, closing the gap as he hovered above you.

The kiss was heady, his tongue warm and dominating as he pushed it past your lips. The sensation nearly distracted you from his hands, that were tearing the fabric around your torso, letting it flutter to the floor in shimmering pieces.

“I’m going to fuck you here, on this throne, like a proper king.”

You parted your legs, letting his hand drop between them. Loki smirked into your neck as he cupped your sex, feeling how wet you were, desperate for him as heat radiated from your center.

He didn’t bother to turn you over, perfectly happy to fuck you while you were on top of him, lying on his chest as he sat upon his throne. He glided his cock along your wet lips, only a moment until you were squirming with desperation.

He wanted to hear you beg, but even he couldn’t wait any longer, slowly sinking into you, every inch stretching you impossibly further. The sweet sting made you cry out, your head dropping back on his shoulder when he nestled himself fully inside you.

“You’re perfect for me,” Loki praised through gritted teeth, fighting not to slam into you like an animal. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, muscles burning as they were forced to take the stretch to fit him inside — and you loved it.

You doubted anything would ever feel so good, until his hips started to roll forward, the god fucking you deep and slow, holding your body against his chest. He buried his face in your shoulder, soaking up your squeals of pleasure as he lost himself in you.

Before he even thought to play with you, your cunt began to clench around him with an impending orgasm. Your startled whimper shot straight to Loki’s dick, and he fucked you harder, unable to help himself.

“Come around me, darling, let me know how good you feel,” Loki urged, nearly spilling into you as you trembled in his arms, coming with a scream that echoed off the walls.

“There you go,” he murmured, twitching before he filled you with his seed, painting your insides with him.

Your breaths were ragged and uneven, mind completely foggy in the aftermath. He breathed in your scent as he stayed inside you, preserving the moment for as long as possible.

“I’m yours, forever,” you whispered, as if reading his mind.

#loki smut #loki #loki avengers #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki smut oneshot #loki imagine smut #loki imagine #avengers #marvel #loki fic #loki fanfiction #avengers au #loki fluff

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glorioustidalwavedefendor · 2 years ago

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I have decidet that it's a 'working memory' issue (or a generally issue with the brain no longer quiet working like it is supposed to ) ...

And if marvel has issues with that they can wrench it from my cold dead hands ...

I mean think about it.

The colapsing wormhole he fell through propabyl injured him badly and I doupt that he had the time to recover properly

What ever the other and thanos where up to propably didn't help and neither did the mindstone

And neither did the hulk ...

SO ... 'working memory' issues ...

Like he still can DO the things he used to be able to do ... but he forgetts that he could use them

-> forgets on lamentis that he could teleport, only remebers he can do telekinesis wenn a literall rocket is about to fall on them etc. ...

Like, brains are a bit sensitive and while someone might seem alright on a day to day basis they might be struggling with "invisible" issues

These comics kind a explain what I mean better then I can:

Some random person: So that's why Loki's magic is weak. Because everytime he dies he loses his magic...

Me: So here's a very long list of why an 1,065 year old cosmic sorcerer genius taught by Frigga since birth should have been able to easily beat Dr. Strange.

#Not that I can relate or anything #not me #no sir #my memory works perf ...#what where we talking about?#Anyway #I mean just becasue you are immortal and have magic doesn't mean you can/will heal everything imidiately completely #see Chiron #Ironically #Chiron #the master of the healing arts #could not heal himself and willingly gave up his immortality.#It also explains why he is a bit OOC #I assume sinse in TTDW he looks different then at the end of avengers #no muzzle #different shackles #different costume #longer hair/different cut #he got some time to heal up a bit #Ragnarok happened in an alternate universe since chronoogically it happens after Loki (2021) ... so there you go #somewhere there is a universe wher ethanos never assembled teh infinity gauntlet becasue Loki used the reality stone to unmake him before #giving the reality stone to the collector

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amethystarachnid · 4 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ MASTERLIST 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Hello my dear readers, here you’ll find the links to all the works you can find on this profile. I always accept requests, my inbox is always open, I write for both the X-Men and the MCU movies. English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct me if you find some mistakes (but please be kind).

I hope you’ll like my works!

Ivy Rose

make a request following these rules if you want <3

IVY ROSE'S GAMES ᡣ𐭩

click here to read the master list! ->

Steve Rogers

Little Star

Matchmaking

Happy Tears

Under the Mistletoe

Anthony 'Tony' E. Stark

Love in Rehearsal

Fear

Sky Rockets and Robots - part I

Sky Rockets and Robots - part II

Soulmate Bond

Beacon of Love

The Challenge of You

Lazy Day

Mrs. Stark

Caffeine Chemistry

A Cowboy's Love - part I

A Cowboy's Love - part II

High School Sweetheart

The Crown's Heart

Always

Room for Two - part I

Room for Two - part II

Safe Arms

Falling Mr. Stark

Legacy

Snowy Love - part I

Snowy Love - part II

Time Traveler

Enough

Accidents Happen - part I

Accidents Happen - part II

A Blizzard for Two

Secret Santa

Christmas Proposal

Frogs, Globes and Burnt Chocolate

Midnight Kiss

Stark Protocol

Christmas Magic

Christmas Secrets

James B. “Bucky” Barnes

Promise

Bucky Barnes as a Girl Dad - drabble

Opposites - part I

Opposites - part II

Bet

Thor Odinson

Baby lightning

Thor Odinson as a Girl Dad - drabble

Lightning on Skates

Loki Laufeyson

Forbidden

Memories

Bound by Duty

Midgardian Feast

James Logan Howlett

Mutant Bodyguard - part I

Mutant Bodyguard - part II

Mutant Bodyguard - part III

Apocalyptic Love (Logan x fem!reader x Deadpool)

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

Apocalyptic Love (Logan x fem!reader x Deadpool)

Operation Make You Not Hate The Universe

Charles Francis Xavier

Decay — The Matter Maelstrom (fanfic)

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angelremnants · 13 days ago

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A TALES OF.. l Trickery, Disguise and Daggers

OR.. You have no choice but to disguise yourself as Loki to gain the upper hand in battle. But seeing you dressed in his signature green and gold, with his dagger in hand and embodying him so convincingly leaves him wondering why he can’t decide if he’s furious, fascinated, or entirely undone by the sight, and why was it so distracting and far more intoxicating than he could have anticipated.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (16+), flirtation and teasing, mild violence references, suggestive content. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 7k

author's notes : All I heard while I was writing this was "I'm a diva". God, do I love writing about a down bad Loki. I know this man goes feral at the idea of someone impersonating him and making it look so good. Then again, it might just be my ovulation talking.

Also, literally writing this one hour before my exam. Wish me luck :(

(ao3 version)

The happy-go-lucky trio reached the outskirts of Dredheim, a desolate land marked by jagged cliffs and a blood-red sky. The atmosphere felt as if it could swallow them whole—ominous and suffocating, as though the earth resented their presence. It wasn’t just the eerie landscape that made Dredheim dangerous—it was the Ironclad Order. This ruthless faction had marked Loki as their top priority for capture, allegedly for breaching a binding contract centuries ago. Their fortresses were well-guarded, and their soldiers were more than capable of recognizing even the slightest shape-shift Loki might attempt.

Retrieving the next chipped piece of Yggdrasil was essential, but unfortunately, it meant infiltrating their most sacred vault—an impenetrable labyrinth-like temple protected by wards and magic so strong even Loki couldn’t easily bypass them. As the trio debated their options, Loki stood at the base of a jagged cliff, arms crossed over his chest, his face impassive. There was a cocky grin playing on his lips, but it didn’t quite mask the calculation in his eyes.

“Why is it always me who gets chased by petty mortals with grudges?” Loki drawled, clearly unperturbed by their dire situation. “Do they not have hobbies? Crops to tend to? A goat to milk?”

Thor groaned beside him, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You broke their blood oath, Loki. It’s not petty.”

Loki’s smirk deepened, and he glanced over at his brother. “They were foolish to make a deal with me in the first place.”

Thor sighed, rubbing his temples. “Well, whatever it is, we need a plan. They’ll recognize you on sight. What do we do?”

“We could just storm the place and—” [Y/N] began, raising an eyebrow, but was immediately cut off by Loki’s sharp, mocking gesture.

“Yes, excellent idea,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s storm the stronghold of a group that specializes in binding deities. I’m sure that’ll end well for me.”

[Y/N] shot him a withering look. “You’re no fun,” she muttered. “Okay, seriously though, we can’t brute force our way in.”

Loki folded his arms across his chest, his expression still cool, but now interested. “Well, then, what’s your brilliant suggestion, [Y/N]?”

She paced a little, clearly deep in thought, her boots clicking against the stony ground. “So… you can’t walk in there without getting swarmed by a thousand warriors, right? But what you trick them into thinking you are walking in there?”

Thor gave a confused glance at both of them. “Trick them?” he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief. “They’re trained to spot deceit. You’re talking about outwitting the masters of seeking truth and justice themselves.”

[Y/N] paused, her gaze shifting to Loki. “Exactly. We don’t need brute force; we need Loki at his most… Loki.”

Loki tilted his head, intrigued but still skeptical. “Go on.”

[Y/N] hesitated for just a moment, then her grin stretched wider. “Since it’s a piece of Jotunheim we’re talking about, you’re needed inside to retrieve the piece.” She said, keeping her tone casual, “But if you walk in there, they’ll have you chained up before you can even take a breath. So, we need something or someone to look like you and act like you. A diversion that’ll keep them distracted while you slip in unnoticed.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I don’t think we have anyone who could pretend to be you, Loki. Who could possibly pull that off?”

Loki’s sharp eyes flickered over [Y/N], who had been silently considering something. “I’m not so sure about that.” Loki’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile as the idea began to form in his mind. He paced around her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe as if mentally measuring her up. He stopped in front of her, his gaze intense. “I think you’ll do.”

[Y/N]’s eyes widened slightly, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Loki held up a hand to stop her.

“You’ll dress like me. You’ll wear the costume, the green, the curls,” he said, his voice low and full of cunning. “And you’ll do it perfectly.”

Thor frowned. “Are you serious, Loki? You want her to pretend to be you? I mean no offense my lady, but you’re hardly—”

“Hardly what?” [Y/N] interrupted, crossing her arms.

“Scheming, deceitful, or arrogant,” Thor replied bluntly.

Loki grinned. “I don’t know, brother. She might just surprise us.” He turned to [Y/N], not taking his eyes off of her, his tone turning darker with amusement. “You’ve seen how adept she is at adopting the essence of someone else. With the right illusion, she could pass for me. And when she makes her entrance—our entrance—the Order won’t know what hit them.”

She considered the idea, then sighed with a wry grin. “I’ll admit, I have a bit of flair when it comes to trickery. But what do you mean by ‘make my entrance’? I’m guessing ‘subtle’ isn’t the point.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled with approval. “Indeed. We need chaos. A dramatic entrance to make them believe they’ve caught me in the act.”

Thor shook his head, still unconvinced. “This feels like a terrible idea.”

[Y/N] glanced at him, a half-smile playing at her lips. “You got any better ones, big guy?”

Loki walked over to a pile of supplies they’d gathered and began rifling through it. He emerged with a small, enchanted pouch. “I’ll provide the illusion,” he said, already looking at [Y/N] as if she were his next grand project. “you'll just have to wear this. Since your abilities grant you the possibility of making mirages and contains a color similar to my seidr, you’ll just have to imitate it and maintain a monochromatic tone. It’ll mask your scent, your aura. It will be me—and they’ll never know the difference.”

[Y/N] took the pouch, inspecting it carefully, then met Loki’s gaze. “Fine,” she said, eyes narrowing in mock suspicion. “But if I have to wear your ridiculous green costume and pretend to be you, I’m going to need a lot of space for the theatrics.” Loki’s grin was practically predatory now. “Of course, darling. You’ll be magnificent.”

Standing in their tent, [Y/N] stared at herself in the mirror Loki had conjured. She smoothed the green leather tunic over her hips, standing straight as Loki adjusted the high collar and the flowing cape. The outfit clung to her in a way that was both empowering and deeply uncomfortable, made worse by the heavy cape tugging at her shoulders. Loki was standing close—too close—and she could practically feel his smirk boring into her. The infamous horned circlet sat precariously atop her head, the weight making her neck ache.

“Is this thing necessary?” she grumbled, adjusting the horns.

“It’s iconic,” Loki said, lounging nearby with his usual air of nonchalance. “You can’t impersonate me without it.”

[Y/N] stood tall, draped in his usual flair, the oversized horns slightly tilting to one side. She was doing her best to maintain a haughty expression, but the glimmer of nervousness in her eyes gave her away.

“Well?” she asked, spinning on her heel. “How do I look?”

Thor snorted. “Ridiculous.”

“Thank you for the confidence boost, Thor,” [Y/N] deadpanned.

Loki, however, was silent. His eyes roamed over her—taking in how she carried herself in his colors, his armor. There was a hint of amusement in his smirk, but there was also something else. Was it delight? Admiration? Something a little darker and more thrilling that made his heart race.

“The dagger,” he said, holding out the gleaming blade.

[Y/N] took it, the hilt cool and unfamiliar in her palm. She twirled it clumsily, making Loki wince.

“No, no, no,” he groaned, grabbing her hand and positioning it correctly. His voice dropped into that soft, low cadence he used when he was serious, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. “If you’re going to impersonate me, you need to own this. The blade isn’t just a weapon—it’s an extension of you. Watch.”

He took the dagger, spinning it fluidly through his fingers with practiced ease before pressing the flat of the blade lightly against his lips. His gaze flicked to [Y/N] briefly before he pulled it away and ran the blade along his forearm, the motion smooth and deliberate. The silver edge glinted in the low light, catching her attention.

[Y/N] hesitated, her fingers tightening on the hilt. “I don’t see how this helps with looking like you,” she muttered, though she mimicked his motions—pressing the cold metal to her lips for a fleeting moment before sliding it across her wrist and down her arm. It felt strange, foreign even, but it carried a weight of power, a piece of Loki’s essence she couldn’t quite explain.

“That’s better,” Loki murmured, his tone quieter now, almost approving. He stepped back, crossing his arms. “You’re learning. Slowly.”

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow but said nothing, spinning the dagger again.

“And now for your magic,” Loki added, his voice sharper. “You’re relying on your auroras, aren’t you?”

[Y/N] blinked. “That’s my power.”

“Yes, but if you’re going to pass as me, you need precision,” Loki chided, pacing a small circle around her. “The Ironclad Order will notice the smallest flaw. If your aura flickers even slightly—if there’s a hint of your charming little rainbow glow—you’ll give us all away.”

[Y/N] sighed, holding up her hand as tendrils of her magic began to swirl around her fingers. The shades of green and pink danced together in their usual chaotic display. Loki watched, unimpressed.

“Focus,” he barked, stepping closer. “None of this whimsical, northern lights nonsense. Pure green. My green. Do it again.”

She shot him a glare but bit back her retort. She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly as she tried to force her magic into submission. The colors swirled violently at first, as if rebelling against her will, but she pushed harder. The pinks dimmed, the blues faded, until only streaks of green remained. It wasn’t perfect—the edges flickered—but it was closer.

When she opened her eyes, she caught the faintest flicker of approval in Loki’s expression.

“Almost passable,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “You’re getting there. But remember, darling, this is more than just about your magic or how you hold a dagger. It’s about presence.”

He moved to adjust her shoulders, his hands firm but not harsh. “When I walk into a room, people don’t just see me—they feel me. They know I’m better than them.”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”

Loki ignored her, tilting her chin up with two fingers. “Confidence,” he said, his voice low. “It’s all in the smirk.”

She huffed but followed his lead, letting her lips curl into a half-smile.

“Better,” Loki said, stepping back to admire his work. His smirk turned mischievous. “I might even be a little impressed.”

Later on, with a swirl of emerald smoke, she emerged—just as Loki had done countless times before. She wore the illusion well, slipping into his skin like it was her own. She made sure her steps were slow and deliberate, as she presented herself to the darkened world beyond. She was no longer [Y/N]; she was Loki—every inch of him—his confidence, his arrogance, his power. The moment she stood before Loki, his jaw tightened, though his lips curved upwards in approval.

She looked… perfect.

His gaze darkened as he absorbed the sight of her. His heart thudded harder in his chest, even as his mind tried to rein in the flutter of something far too dangerous for his liking. The way she moved, the way she owned the space around her… she had embraced his persona so fully that it was as though he were looking at his reflection.

Thor, standing next to him, grumbled under his breath, clearly uneasy. “By Odin’s beard, this is better than I thought.”

Loki couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Let’s hope she’s as good at escaping as she is at pretending to be me.”

[Y/N], still fully immersed in the role, caught Loki’s gaze from across the distance. The glint in her eyes was unmistakable—an unspoken challenge.

Loki’s lips curled into a smirk. This mission was about to get much more interesting.

The courtyard of Dredheim was swarming with guards, their weapons gleaming ominously in the dim light. For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the clinking of armor. Then, a sudden burst of green smoke exploded in the center, the sound sharp enough to make even the most stoic guards flinch.

“Really?” came a familiar voice, dripping with disdain. As the smoke cleared, a figure in green and gold emerged, arms spread wide and posture exuding arrogance. “Is this how you greet an old friend? By pointing your little sticks at me?”

The guards froze, their confusion evident, as [Y/N]—disguised in Loki’s likeness—strutted forward. She carried herself with the same calculated bravado Loki had perfected over centuries, her cape billowing behind her and her lips curling into a smirk.

“Ah, Dredheim,” she began, her voice smooth and sharp. “Still as dreary as I remember. You’d think with all the contracts you uphold, you’d have better taste in décor.” She let her gaze sweep over the guards, her disdainful tone forcing a few to shift uncomfortably.

One of them, braver than the rest, stepped forward, his spear raised. “You’ve breached the conditions of your exile, Loki,” he said firmly. “Surrender now, and the Order may grant you leniency.”

[Y/N] tilted her head, twirling the dagger she held around her fingers with casual precision. “Leniency? How generous,” she drawled. “But tell me, what exactly do you plan to do if I don’t surrender? Throw me in your dungeon? Bind me with your shiny chains?” Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper as she stepped closer. “I’ve already escaped you once before. Do you think you can hold me now?”

The guard faltered, his grip on the spear tightening, but his resolve clearly wavering. [Y/N] seized the moment, tossing her dagger lightly into the air and catching it by the blade without looking.

“Now, now,” she purred, her voice deceptively sweet. “I’m here to talk, not fight. But if you’d prefer the latter...” She pointed the dagger toward the guards, her smirk widening into a alarming grin as they exchanged uneasy glances.

Just as she prepared to press further, a deafening horn blared through the fortress. The sound was followed by the clattering of gates as reinforcements poured into the courtyard, their spears crackling with enchanted energy. [Y/N]’s eyes flicked to the commotion, though she maintained her composure. “Oh, good,” she said dryly. “I was worried this would be too easy.”

While [Y/N] commanded the scene, the two brothers watched from the shadows behind a crumbled wall while dismantling the blood oath. Their task was delicate and swift—breaking an oath that had bound them in the past required finesse and precision. In a quiet, hidden chamber, Loki worked his magic, weaving the words of old with a power that was both subtle and devastating. Thor, ever the steadfast warrior, kept watch, ensuring that no unexpected interruptions would hinder their mission.

But Loki’s eyes couldn’t help but be locked on her every move, his breath caught in his throat. The way she moved, the way she wielded his persona with such ease—it was uncanny. She wasn’t just copying him; she was becoming him, in a way that both impressed and unnerved him.

“She’s quite the performer,” Thor remarked, his tone laced with amusement.

“She’s reckless,” Loki snapped, though his gaze never left her. “One mistake, and the entire plan falls apart.”

Thor chuckled softly. “She reminds me of someone.”

Loki shot him a glare. “Do me a favor and save your observations for later.”

But even as he spoke, he couldn’t deny the pang of pride—and something deeper—that stirred in his chest. [Y/N] wasn’t just holding her own; she was dominating the stage.

It should have infuriated him. Instead, it unsettled him in ways he didn’t care to examine.

“She’s being brazen. If she slips up, they’ll know it’s not me.” Loki hissed.

“And yet,” Thor said, glancing at his brother, “you can’t take your eyes off her. You’ve been staring at her like a wolf eyeing its next meal.”

Loki shot him a glare. “I thought I made it clear that it wasn’t the time for your ridiculous observations, Thor.”

Thor smirked, leaning in closer. “Just admit it. You’re impressed. And something else, too, if I’m not mistaken.”

Loki clenched his jaw, unwilling to give Thor the satisfaction of an answer. But he couldn’t deny it—[Y/N]’s boldness, her defiance, the way she had stepped into his role so seamlessly—it was maddeningly alluring. She was leading the scene in a way that even he had to admit was impressive. But admiration wasn’t the only thing stirring in his chest—it was something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to confront.

The Oath finally unraveled in a strident sound, its bindings dissolving into particles in the ether, leaving their enemies weaker and more vulnerable than they realized. With the soldiers distracted, [Y/N] led the way into the inner sanctum, where the Warden awaited them. The chamber was vast, lit by a flickering green flame, and the air was heavy with magic. The green flame in the chamber flickered ominously as she stepped forward, her every move exuding the kind of confidence Loki himself had perfected over centuries. Said Warden of the Pact stepped forward, his voice booming over the chaos. “Loki, surrender now, and we may grant you a swift end. Resist, and you will face the wrath of the Order.”

She twirled the dagger deftly in her hand, pressing it against the smirk curling on her lips, and Loki watched from the shadows, frozen. She felt like him—sharp, unpredictable, and utterly commanding yet in her own unique way.

She tilted her head, the light catching the intricate detailing of her "Loki" armor. She let out a low, mocking laugh, the sound reverberating through the chamber. “Oh, do you? How delightful,” she purred. Her dagger was gleaming as she pointed it lazily at him. “Do tell me, Warden, have you ever stopped to wonder what it must feel like to stand before a Goddess? You should count yourself lucky—I’m feeling particularly magnanimous today.”

Loki’s breath hitched as shivers traveled down his spine. The words hung in the air, heavier than the tension crackling between the Warden and [Y/N]. She wasn’t just putting on an act anymore. She was the role she played, and it sent a strange ache through Loki’s chest.

Magnanimous. A Goddess.

It wasn’t just the defiance in her voice—it was the conviction behind it. For a fleeting moment, Loki wondered if she actually believed it, and if she did…why did it stir something in him that he wouldn't want to name?

The Warden’s face darkened, and the soldiers shifted nervously. [Y/N] took a step forward, her cape sweeping behind her as she raised her chin. “You forget who you’re dealing with. I am Loki, Goddess of Mischief, rightful heir to Asgard’s throne and master of chaos. Your threats mean nothing to me.”

She flicked the dagger toward the ground, green reflecting in her eyes and her magic sparkling as it landed, creating a sharp crack that sent the soldiers reeling. “Now,” she continued, her voice colder, “get out of my way before I show you what a God can do.”

More soldiers lunged forward, spears glowing with enchanted energy. [Y/N] spun, dodging the first strike and grabbing one soldier by the arm, twisting him into his comrades. She moved fluidly, the dagger an extension of her, just as Loki had taught her.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” the Warden said, his voice echoing through the room. “But your tricks end here.”

[Y/N] stepped forward, still holding the illusion of Loki. “Oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Your bravado is tiresome. You think you can stand against me? A Goddess doesn’t kneel to the likes of you.”

The Warden raised his staff, magic crackling at its tip. “You’re no goddess, Loki. You’re a fraud.”

The woman smiled, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Then prove it.”

The Warden launched a bolt of glowing energy toward her, but [Y/N] sidestepped gracefully, her smirk widening. “Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, throwing the dagger upward and catching it without looking.

The soldiers surrounding the Warden hesitated, glancing nervously at each other. She took the opportunity to close the distance, her steps unhurried, her voice sharp and cutting.

“Let me tell you something about power,” she said, her tone icy. “It’s not just about strength or fear. True power is about control. And right now, I’m in control. You? You’re just another footnote in the stories they’ll tell about me.”

Her words were pure Loki—sharp-edged and brimming with arrogance—but the way she delivered them was all her own. She radiated an unshakable certainty that made even the Warden falter.

But the Warden’s forces returned faster than expected. As [Y/N] lowered the illusion of green smoke, the sound of clanging armor and rushed footsteps filled the air. Loki’s eyes darted to the corridor behind her, where armored guards poured in like a flood, each carrying weapons glowing with runes.

As the guards surged forward in greater numbers, Loki knew the ruse wouldn’t hold much longer. With a flick of his wrist, he conjured an illusion of himself appearing on the far side of the courtyard, drawing half the guards away. Then, with a burst of green energy, he stepped into the fray, his daggers materializing in his hands.

“Time to move,” he muttered to Thor, who grinned and charged in with Mjolnir, scattering soldiers like leaves in a storm.

[Y/N] caught sight of Loki and shouted over the din, “What happened to waiting for my diversion?”

“Reinforcements,” Loki hissed, gripping her wrist and yanking her back. “They must have alerted the higher ranks. It’s a full ambush!”

“So much for hiding,” she quipped, dodging a spear and slashing through the advancing guards with practiced precision.

“I gave you your moment,” Loki retorted, sending a wave of green energy toward a cluster of enemies. “But now it’s my turn.”

[Y/N] smirked, twisting away from an attacker and sending a spark of her own magic into his chest, knocking him backward. “Try to keep up, then.”

Loki paused mid-strike, his eyes narrowing. Her movements—sharp, deliberate—bore the mark of his training, but there was something uniquely hers in the way she fought, a fluidity and confidence that made her impossible to ignore.

The Asgardians surged forward together into the battle, a synchronized force of magic and might. Loki’s conjured daggers struck first, precise and lethal, while Thor’s hammer crashed into the advancing line like a battering ram.

But it was [Y/N] who turned the tide.

When a spear-wielding guard broke through the brothers’ defenses, she stepped into his path, her movements fluid and calculated. She caught the spear’s shaft mid-thrust, twisted her body, and redirected its momentum, throwing the guard off balance. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sent her dagger slicing across his armor, leaving him crumpled on the floor.

Loki, mid-spin as he conjured a wall of green flames to block incoming archers, caught sight of her. She didn’t just fight—she owned the battlefield. Her movements were sharp and deliberate, her confidence radiating like a beacon. For a moment, he forgot the chaos around him.

“Focus, brother!” Thor’s voice snapped him back to reality as he swung Mjolnir into another advancing guard.

[Y/N] noticed Loki staring and smirked. “What’s the matter, Mischief? You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?”

Loki blinked, caught off guard by the smirk she shot his way. He straightened, forcing his usual arrogance to cover his momentary slip. “Hardly,” he quipped, twirling a dagger with flair as he blocked another guard’s strike. “I’m merely appraising my work. It seems you’ve learned a thing or two from the master.”

[Y/N] arched an eyebrow as she parried a blow and dispatched her opponent with a graceful spin. “Master? How kinky. But for your information, I think I’ve refined your sloppy technique.”

Loki sputtered, dodging an axe swing with dramatic flair. “Sloppy? I’ll have you know my form is flawless.”

The impersonator chuckled, sidestepping to fight alongside him. “Sure it is, Mischief. Now less talking, more fighting!”

“I’m multitasking, thank you very much,” Loki grumbled, though the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed the effect her teasing had on him.

As the guards thinned, [Y/N] spotted the Warden retreating into the fortress. Her heart pounded, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “There he is!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

“We need him alive,” Loki reminded her sharply, blocking an incoming strike. “The fragment is within his grasp.”

“Then stop stalling,” [Y/N] shot back, already sprinting as her gaze darted between the remaining guards and the Warden’s retreating figure. Her heart pounded, adrenaline surging through her veins. “I’ll handle him. You two deal with the rest.”

“[Y/N], no!” Loki yelled, but she was already sprinting toward the Warden, her dagger gleaming in her hand.

The inner sanctum was vast and foreboding, its walls lined with glowing green runes. The Warden stood at its center, his staff crackling with power. [Y/N] entered cautiously, her steps echoing in the eerie silence.

“You think you can outmatch me?” he sneered as she approached, her pace slow and deliberate.

She tilted her head, her voice dripping with mockery. “Oh, I don’t think—I know.”

The Warden struck first, sending a bolt of dark energy hurtling toward her. [Y/N] ducked and rolled, closing the distance between them with startling speed. She feinted to the left, forcing him to overextend, and then lashed out with her dagger, the blade slicing through the magic shield he had conjured.

He roared in frustration, his attacks growing more erratic as she dodged and countered with ease.

“You’re nothing but a cheap imitation of that Trickster,” the Warden spat.

[Y/N]’s grin widened, her voice low and dangerous. “Imitation? No, darling. I’m the upgrade.”

With a flick of her wrist, she unleashed a wave of shimmering energy that surged toward the Warden. Her magic crackled like lightning in a storm as it collided with his dark aura. The resulting explosion shook the chamber, sending fragments of stone and embers scattering through the air. Despite the force of the impact, [Y/N] stood firm, her feet planted and her expression unwavering as she deflected the Warden’s counterattacks with calculated precision.

Loki and Thor arrived at the entrance just in time to witness the spectacle. [Y/N]’s magic flared brilliantly, a kaleidoscope of colors twisting through the dimly lit space. Loki paused, his eyes narrowing as he watched her.

“Impressive,” he murmured, his voice carrying a note of reluctant admiration. But then, shaking himself free from the moment, he stepped forward, his hands alight with emerald energy. “Let’s end this quickly, shall we?”

As if on cue, the three of them moved in perfect tandem. [Y/N]’s radiant magic wove through the air like threads of fire and starlight, meeting Loki’s illusions and deadly blasts of energy in a breathtaking dance of light and shadow. Thor’s hammer crashed down with the force of a thunderclap, shattering the Warden’s defenses piece by piece. The chamber seemed to tremble under the onslaught, the oppressive energy of the Warden’s magic fading against their combined might.

When the smoke and debris finally cleared, the scene left Loki momentarily still. [Y/N] stood over the Warden while blocking his movements by pressing her heel on his chest, her own heaving as she caught her breath. In her hand, a dagger glinted ominously under the faint light, its blade pressed firmly against the Warden’s throat.

“Do you yield?” she demanded, her voice low, cold, and commanding enough to send a chill through the air.

The Warden’s glare was sharp, his jaw clenched in defiance, but after a long moment, his hands fell limp at his sides, and he gave a reluctant nod. [Y/N] stepped back without hesitation, her dagger still poised as she allowed Loki to approach.

Loki moved with a calculated elegance, his fingers glowing faintly as he began extracting the flaring piece of sacred wood. Thor, leaning casually on Mjolnir, let out a low whistle, breaking the tension in the room.

“Well then, brother,” Thor said with a smirk, “from what I just saw, I’d wager she might know you better than you know yourself.”

Loki didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on [Y/N], who had turned her back to them and was meticulously wiping blood from her dagger with an almost unnerving calm. Her movements were deliberate, unhurried, and tinged with an air of indifference that only heightened her aura of command.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Loki found himself at a loss for words.

The air was cool and crisp as they emerged from the sanctum, carrying the faint metallic tang of the battle they had just left behind to regroup on a nearby hill under the fading light of the realm’s twin moons. [Y/N] stretched her arms above her head, rolling her shoulders with a slight wince.

Loki’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the motion. “You’re hurt,” he remarked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

She shrugged, brushing him off. “It’s nothing,” she replied lightly. “Besides, I had fun. Honestly, being you isn’t so bad—minus the overwhelming arrogance, of course.”

Loki tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint, amused smile. “Overwhelming?” he repeated, his tone edged with mock offense.

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, her smirk unwavering. “Oh, don’t look so surprised. You’ve practically made it an art form.”

Closing the distance between them, Loki’s expression shifted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “And yet, you wore it so well. Perhaps a little too well.”

Her smirk faltered as their gazes locked, the air between them suddenly charged. [Y/N] caught the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes—something that made her pulse quicken despite herself. But before the moment could deepen, Thor’s booming laughter shattered the tension.

“Well done, my friend! Or should I say... sister?” Thor declared with a grin so wide it was almost comical. He jabbed an elbow toward Loki, wiggling his eyebrows with exaggerated suggestion.

Loki groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re deflecting,” Thor countered with a hearty clap to his brother’s shoulder.

[Y/N] snorted, breaking the spell of whatever had passed between her and Loki. “I’m going to sleep,” she announced, brushing past them as she started down the hill. “You two can argue over titles and egos all you want.”

Thor watched her go, then leaned toward Loki with a sly grin. “You’re smitten.”

Loki stiffened, though the faint color that rose to his cheeks betrayed him. “Don’t be absurd,” he said, his voice clipped.

Thor chuckled, his laughter a low rumble in the quiet night. “Deny it all you like, brother, but I saw the way you looked at her back there. You’d better be careful—she might outshine even you.”Loki’s gaze followed [Y/N] as she disappeared into the shadows, her stride unbothered and confident, as though the weight of their recent battles hadn’t touched her. His lips pressed into a thin line as he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet for even Thor to hear: “She already has.”

The campfire crackled softly, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across the cluster of worn tents. Above, the stars hung like frozen whispers in a sea of black, the cool night air carrying the faint scent of pine and smoke. The serenity of the scene was broken only by Thor’s occasional snores from his nearby tent, deep and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the restless figure seated alone by the fire.

Loki perched on a log just beyond the firelight’s reach, his sharp profile illuminated faintly by the dying embers. His long fingers danced absently through the air, as though tracing the edges of invisible thoughts. He had excused himself from the evening earlier than usual, brushing off questions with a tired smirk and a dismissive wave. But solitude had done little to settle his mind.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, raking a hand through his dark hair. Sleep was elusive, chased away by the memory that had rooted itself firmly in his thoughts—[Y/N]. He hadn’t felt so unraveled in centuries. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.

[Y/N], wrapped in his colors, her every movement fluid, sharp, and commanding. The memory of her entrance was vivid: green smoke curling around her like tendrils of ivy, her voice low and laced with dangerous charm. She had moved with a confidence that burned, her posture radiating a power that rivaled his own.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he exhaled, a soft growl escaping his throat. Why does it bother me so much? He tried to dismiss the thought, to let it fade into the crackle of the fire, but it lingered, refusing to be ignored.

It wasn’t just her audacity to mimic him so perfectly—it was how seamlessly she had worn his essence, as if it were hers to claim. Her presence had been so arresting, so undeniably magnetic, that it left him breathless.

Gods, the way she moved…

Loki’s eyes fluttered closed, and his breath hitched as the memory overtook him again. [Y/N], draped in the leather of his garb, hugging her form as though it had been tailored for her. She had prowled across the battlefield like a queen surveying her kingdom, her every step exuding a quiet, dangerous authority. The way the fabric clung to her figure, the sway of her hips—it was maddening.

And that dagger. Oh, how she had wielded it.

The memory of her performance haunted Loki like a curse, one far too alluring to shake. He could see her even now, standing there with the confidence of a queen in emerald mist, holding his dagger like it had always belonged in her grasp.

She had held it like it belonged to her, the blade angled just enough to catch the dim light as she pressed the cool metal against her mouth—just as he had shown her. It wasn’t just a gesture of menace; it was seduction, power, and mockery all rolled into one. She had whispered something after that—he couldn’t remember the exact words, only that they had sounded like something he would say, dripping with charm and danger. The image of her smirking behind the blade had been enough to make his breath lost in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

Now, sitting alone by the fire, the memory wouldn’t leave him. His hand drifted to the very same dagger, still strapped to his side. He unsheathed it slowly, the metal gleaming faintly in the flickering firelight. His fingers tightened around the hilt as he turned the blade over, examining it like it held some forbidden secret.

Loki inhaled sharply as he slowly lifted the blade. The thought was ridiculous, absurd even, but he couldn’t resist. He pressed the same spot of the flat of the dagger against his lips that had once been on hers, the cool metal sending a shiver coursing down his spine. Would this count as an indirect kiss? His eyes fluttered closed, and for a fleeting moment, he could almost feel her there, could almost taste the ghost of her touch lingering on the steel.

But it wasn’t enough.

Loki drew the blade away, letting it glide down his neck, the metal cold against his skin. His breath deepened as he trailed it lower, dragging the flat side of the dagger along the curve of his chest, over the smooth fabric of his tunic. The sensation was grounding and electric all at once, the weight of the weapon pulling him back to the moment she had stood there, commanding the entire room with a confidence he didn’t think he’d ever find so maddeningly... enticing.

He couldn’t stop. The blade moved lower, over his abdomen, where his muscles tensed beneath the light pressure of the metal. He exhaled sharply, his hand trembling slightly as he finally pulled it away, holding the dagger tightly at his side.

The memory of [Y/N]’s smirk, her confidence, her fire—it consumed him.

“A goddess doesn’t kneel,” her voice echoed in his mind, low and dripping with defiance. The words struck him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. He had wanted to laugh when she’d said it, to mock her audacity, but he hadn’t. Because in that moment, she had been a goddess—a force of nature, his equal in every way that mattered. And perhaps, in ways he didn’t yet understand, his superior.

Loki leaned back, letting his head fall against the rough bark of the log, his gaze drifting upward to the endless expanse of stars. “By the Norns,” he muttered under his breath, his voice a mix of frustration and awe.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the faint glow of her tent, her silhouette shifting as she settled for the night. He wondered if she was as restless as he was, if the memory of the day’s battle haunted her as it did him. Did she even realize the storm she had unleashed within him?

He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening around the hilt of the dagger. He tried to focus on her flaws, to remind himself why she infuriated him. She was impulsive, reckless, far too bold for her own good. But gods, wasn’t that what drew him to her? Her fire, her fearlessness, her refusal to yield?

“A goddess doesn’t kneel,” he repeated under his breath, the words tasting bitter and sweet all at once. Her voice returned to him, low and sultry, dripping with defiance. Loki exhaled shakingly, his hands curling into fists. Those words had pierced through him, striking a chord he hadn’t realized existed.

She had looked like a goddess—fierce, commanding, unyielding. It wasn’t just the way she moved or spoke; it was the fire in her eyes, the way she had stood her ground even when outnumbered. The way she had moved, the confidence in every gesture, the fire in her eyes—it had all felt so familiar and yet so wholly hers. And that smirk, the one she had thrown his way as if to say, See? I can be you—and better than you. It had undone him. Completely.

And the worst part? She hadn’t just acted like him—she had been better than him. He had spent centuries crafting his identity as a god of mischief and chaos, bending others to his will, proving his superiority over mortals and gods alike. And yet, in that one moment, she had made him feel... small.

And it terrified him.

She had worn the title like she was born to it, her defiance shining brighter than any crown. For the first time in a long time, Loki had been... mesmerized. Not just by her beauty, though that was undeniable, but by the sheer force of her will.

And then she had dared to mock him after it was all over. “Honestly, being you isn’t so bad... minus the overwhelming arrogance,” she had said with a grin, twirling the dagger like it was hers to manipulate.

Loki’s lips curved into a small, bitter smile. Arrogant? Yes, he was. Overwhelmingly so. But who wouldn’t be, after living centuries in a world that demanded nothing less? And yet, somehow, she had managed to turn it all back on him, stripping away the layers of his pride and leaving him exposed. Vulnerable.

He hated it. And he craved it.

The dagger still rested in his hand, the weight of it oddly comforting. He traced his thumb along the edge, his mind drifting back to her again. He could still see her standing there, the green smoke swirling around her like a crown, her voice laced with venom and allure. She had took over the reigns of the room, demanded their attention, and every part of him had wanted to watch her burn it all to the ground or make it burn for her—anything, if only to please her wrath.

The fire crackled louder, snapping Loki out of his reverie. He leaned back, his hands braced on the log, and let his head fall back to gaze at the stars.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her like this.

She was an ally, nothing more. A necessary piece in this grand game they were playing. And yet, when he closed his eyes, he didn’t see the mission or the stakes they faced. He saw her—flushed with triumph, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath after the battle. He saw the curve of her lips as she smirked at him, the challenge in her eyes as she dared him to match her fire.

He swallowed hard, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple despite the cool night air.

Stop it, he told himself. Stop thinking about her like this.

The fire snapped loudly, pulling him from his thoughts. Loki rose from the log, sheathing the dagger with a flourish. His steps carried him toward the edge of the camp, where the shadows deepened and the night felt cooler against his flushed skin. He needed to distance himself, to clear his head, but her presence lingered like a phantom.

He had faced gods, monsters, and armies without flinching, yet one mortal woman had left him in such deplorable state. It was infuriating. It was exhilarating.

And, the Norns help him, he wasn’t sure he wanted it to stop.

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