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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 11: Where I'm Hidden Away

Summary: The mission went well, so why is Theo in such a bad mood? Loki’s determined to find out.

Author's Notes: OH SURPRISE EARLY CHAPTER DROP! I had every intention of posting a different chapter that’s already finished, but the more I thought about the order of things, I felt like this chapter should come first.

If you enjoy, please reblog!! I'm a lil' blog and reblogs really help me out <3

Content Warnings: Short descriptions of nausea/migraines? Nothing explicit, though.

Word Count: 7,406

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

Song: Just What to Say (feat. Chrissy Costanza) - Dashboard Confessional

I went through this door For no other reason than it wasn't open And sometimes I'm foolish Enough to believe encouraging things But most times I'm cautiously less optimistic A face in the crowd, I wish to be found I worry so often for those who escape I wonder out loud, I sleep at odd hours And I write 'cause I never know just what to say

Theo should have been relieved that the mission went well; hell, she should have been ready to celebrate.

She was one of six Avengers sent into the field to deal with a batch of bad actors who were somehow connected to the damned beasts who got her into this mess in the first place. Not only did they effectively wipe the floor with the beasts, but they acquired additional intel that would likely prove to be highly valuable in the weeks to come.

However, a week of constantly remaining at attention, heavy reliance on magic, and anxiety turned up to one hundred left Theo absolutely drained. Exhaustion pulsed through her veins. The throbbing between her temples certainly didn’t help, nor did the aches that rolled through her body with every bump of turbulence. It was safe to assume she had pushed herself a bit too hard - really, she’d toed the line of over-exerting her magic for weeks - but the lack of sleep and cortisol overload absolutely made her feel a hundred times worse.

Any sense of time was long gone. Jet lag had a way of flipping everything on its head, and the navy sky as they descended into New York had Theo convinced it was well past an hour when anyone would be awake, which gave her hope that she could succumb the siren song of a quick shower before collapsing into bed and hiding away for a day or two to recoup.

The last thing she expected to see at the descent of the jet’s ramp were all the team members who stayed back, looking far too awake for it to be the middle of the night.

Damnit.

Theo rolled her shoulders and drew in a deep breath before rising to her feet. Static clouded her vision, as the floor tilted beneath her; she paused, blinked the static from her vision and grit her teeth before dragging herself from the jet, only to be met by Wanda bounding forward. “How was it?”

“Asking me how a mission went is like asking how a root canal was.” Theo dryly replied, doing her best not to grimace at the extra painful throb that shot through her skull. “Even if everything goes perfectly, it’s not like I enjoyed it.”

Wanda faltered, frowning at Theo. Guilt tugged at Theo’s chest - there was no reason to snap at Wanda. Then again Wanda knew that Theo wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed field work.

“The early missions are always hard, but they do get easier.” Wanda sympathized, turning to walk alongside Theo. “We’re doing a movie night tonight - shower up and come join! It’ll help take your mind off things.”

Under better circumstances, Theo would have happily agreed to join. After all, ever since ‘family time,’ she had spent most of her free time hanging out with the other Avengers; just as Loki promised, they accepted her presence with open arms. But when she was on the verge of a migraine and beyond exhausted, the last thing she wanted was to be around anyone else. The only things that sounded remotely pleasant were a silent, dark room and her bed.

Though Theo did not admit it aloud, her lack of desire to watch a movie must have been written all over her face, because Wanda silently raised both brows at Theo and cocked her head slightly, as if daring her to say no.

Was Wanda aware of Theo’s promise to Loki?

“Fine.” Theo huffed, adjusting her bag on her shoulder - for whatever reason her skin felt especially sensitive, and the strap of her bag digging into her flesh exacerbated the feeling. The change offered little relief, instead irritating a new patch of skin while making her arm ache. “Just give me a chance to shower and unpack, okay?”

And take some Aleve… Not that she needed to tell Wanda that.

Maybe Wanda sensed that Theo wasn’t in the best mood, because with a tight smile and a gentle squeeze of Theo’s bicep, Wanda split away to talk to Vision.

Theo was the first to the elevators, not wasting a moment before pressing the buttons for her floor.

“If your response was any indication, I suspect you are less than keen to partake in the evening’s activity.”

Theo jumped at the voice and whipped around; every inch of her body protested from the sudden motion. She winced, immediately reaching up to massage her temples while leaning against the wall.

Loki stood before her, arms crossed over his chest as he gave her a once-over. His black joggers and thick socks were exactly the sort of attire Theo would expect him to wear for a movie night, though he paired it with a soft, crew neck sweater that on anyone else would have appeared strange in such a combination. On him, however, it looked right at home.

“Have you been following me this whole time?” Theo managed between gritted teeth as her head continued to throb.

“Perhaps.” Before Theo could protest, Loki had slipped her go-bag from her shoulder and hoisted it over his own. He offered her a sheepish, almost apologetic smile. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” The question was punctuated with the chime of the elevator’s arrival. They both stepped inside.

“You seem unusually tense for a mission that by all reports, went well.” Loki kept his attention on the doors as they closed and the elevator began its ascent.

“Nothing happened.” Theo rolled her eyes. “And I’m not tense. I’m tired.”

“Simply tired?” Loki countered, “You seem rather… unwell.”

Great, just what Theo needed - the Avengers to think she was a wimp because she came back from a mission feeling like crap.

“Tired, and a bit sore. It’s not a big deal.”

It wasn’t a lie, so at least Loki couldn’t call her out on lying. But it wasn’t the full story, and the way his brows drew together told Theo that he wasn’t falling for her half-truths.

“I see.”

Silence fell between the pair, heavy and ripe with trepidation, only intensifying as they drew near Theo’s suite. Loki kept glancing at Theo as if he wanted to say something, but Theo kept her attention focused on the ground in front of her.

“I understand you are tired, but you should strongly consider attending.”

“I already told Wanda I would,” Theo muttered as she reached for her bag, which held the key to her suite. Just before she could grab one of the bag’s straps, Loki lifted the bag beyond her reach.

“You’re withholding something.” He said, dangling the bag in front of Theo like a carrot on a stick.

Theo groaned. “Who cares?”

“I do.” Loki answered as if it were painfully obvious. “If you are injured, you ought to seek care.”

“I’m not injured, okay?” Theo snapped, jumping up to try and grab the bag that Loki held just beyond her reach. “I’m tired and you aren’t helping–”

Theo landed wrong, her ankle rolling and giving out from beneath her. Just as she braced herself to hit the floor, Loki swooped in and caught her.

“Are you certain?” The faintest hint of a smirk flickered on Loki’s face, though he looked apologetic about the slip. But apparently he wasn't sorry enough to just give her the damn bag, because he still held it beyond her reach.

“Well if you keep making me jump for my bag, I might end up injured,” Theo grumbled. She gave up on the attempt to grab her keys, instead using magic to unlock her door. The throb that shot through her skull confirmed that yes, she had been leaning a bit too much on magic over the last week, but that wasn’t surprising. She ignored it, pushed the door open and took a tentative step forward, carefully bearing weight on her ankle as she determined if she actually hurt herself.

Luckily, her ankle gave no signs of lingering discomfort. She let out a quick sigh of relief.

Theo spun back to Loki and held out her hand. “My bag?”

Loki lowered it down, allowing Theo to grab one strap; however, he refused to let go. “You’ll join?”

What was such a big deal that Loki insisted she watch a movie with them? It was a movie, not the fucking Cannes Film Festival.

“God, yes –” she groaned, rolling her eyes as she tugged on the strap. “I already said I would join!”

“Good; I look forward to it.” With a wink, Loki released his hold on the bag. He bowed to Theo, spun on his heel, and departed.

What the hell was up with him?

It didn’t matter - if Theo had any hope of making it through a movie night without a full-blown migraine, first thing was first: Aleve and a shower.

Thirty minutes later, Theo dragged herself from her suite to the living room. Clad in leggings, an oversized sweater, and fuzzy socks, she wrapped the blanket that usually lived the back of her couch around her shoulders for extra warmth. A persistent, insidious chill haunted Theo from the moment she emerged from the shower, so it was all she could do to prevent her teeth from chattering. Her damp hair certainly didn’t help things - given her magic had already been pushed to its limits, she had to skip using magic to dry her hair and settle for braiding it back on her own (which, with the stiffness of her fingers, brought its own kind of misery).

At least the heat from the shower helped with Theo’s sore muscles. Sadly, The Aleve did nothing to help her head, so she braced herself to spend the whole night grumpier than hell as every noise and flash of light stabbed into her skull.

Almost everyone seemed to be caught up in some sort of side conversation when Theo stepped into the living room. Almost every seat was accounted for, except for one seat beside Loki. It wasn’t surprising - everyone had a regular seat that they gravitated towards, and during the other evenings that Theo hung out in the living room, she inevitably ended up in the spot beside Loki.

Without greeting anyone, Theo went straight to the vacancy. She unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders, settled into the corner of the couch, and snuggled up beneath the thick, fluffy throw. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying her best to relax despite feeling like actual garbage.

Next to her, Loki leaned forward and retrieved a small glass of amber liquid from the table. With a sheepish, almost apologetic smile, he offered it to Theo. “I thought this might help you unwind.”

Though the scowl didn’t drop from her face, she accepted the drink, taking a swallow and mumbling a thank-you.

“Are you feeling any better now that you’ve had a moment to yourself?” Loki inquired.

“Absolutely fucking peachy.” she grumbled as she shot Loki a dirty look.

Sure, Theo knew that he was trying to be nice; however, any sound made her headache worse, and she had no desire to talk to anyone. Besides, the larger group had only just started the long and arduous process trying to decide on what to watch, which meant they had to endure an obscene amount of petty bickering before the movie could even begin.

Loki’s eyes shot wide, like he assumed Theo’s mood would completely reverse just by taking a shower. Or maybe he was surprised that she couldn’t be bothered to hide her displeasure, given she hadn’t been quite so tetchy with Wanda.

“I will take that as a no.” He reluctantly nodded, returning his attention to the larger group.

Notes of smoke and caramel coated Theo’s tongue, the whiskey creating a not unpleasant burn in her throat with each sip. Her stomach, however, was not a fan - the general queasiness that came from overdoing it on magic grew with every swallow of liquor. Yet the nausea didn’t deter Theo, as she had no interest in letting the others know that she felt like shit. After all, if she couldn’t handle a simple mission, what good was she?

Despite the squabbling of her teammates, Theo felt herself fading fast. Now that her blanket retained some heat, it was easy to curl up and melt into the couch cushions. She barely even noticed when they picked out a movie, much less that it was Beauty and the Beast.

The near-slip of her glass from Theo’s fingers jolted her awake; not wanting to risk a repeat and potentially spill her drink (which would absolutely attract attention), Theo ignored the protests of her stomach and downed the remaining whiskey from the glass. She quickly, yet casually leaned forward to set it on the table; a brief touch of cool air infiltrated her blanket nest, giving Theo the chills once more. With a quiet groan to herself, Theo buried herself under her blanket and prayed that her stomach wouldn’t revolt.

While the opening sequence of the movie flashed across the television screen, one thought repeated itself in Theo’s mind: this was going to be a long night.

My friends all believe me When I say I'm busy with pretty big things I cancel most plans I hurt someone's feelings I feel like I'm starting And just when I'm starting, I'm starting to stray And every day, I take a white page And try very hard to know just what to say

It had been quite some time since Loki had been subjected to Theo’s thorns; however, on that evening it was as if she sharpened them just for him.

From the moment the quinjet touched down, Theo’s usually wry, humorous demeanor was nowhere to be seen. All six Avengers emerged from the jet covered in filth, with shoulders sagging and bags beneath their eyes, yet only Theo wore a scowl and a glare that cut like a knife; the others casually chatted, laughing and joking as they greeted the Avengers who remained in New York. The brief exchange between Theo and Maximoff, though not cruel, certainly carried a certain edge to it.

Curiosity, and perhaps a bit of concern, led Loki to investigate the cause of Theo’s displeasure.

His initial attempt to ask Theo about her sour mood was, at best, a partial success. Though Theo simply claimed fatigue, when Loki accused her of withholding information she attempted to deflect instead of deny the accusation. Irritating the already irascible sorceress had not been Loki’s intention, nor had he intended to cause Theo to fall and potentially injure herself, however the exchange had, at least, given him some clues.

Still, Loki’s remorse led him to prepare Theo’s preferred beverage for her, as a peace-offering of sorts. It was not until he passed her the glass that he noticed her bloodshot eyes, the deep indigo bruise along her cheekbone, and the almost ghostly pallor of her usually pale complexion.

How had he missed those details before?

On any other occasion, he would have expected Theo to partake in the chaotic, spirited debate over what film to watch; after all, from what Loki knew of Theo, she loved to stir up some lively discussion. Yet, the woman beside him remained silent. At first, her attention followed whoever spoke as she silently sipped her beverage; however, as the debate carried on, she stopped following along. Her eyes sort-of glazed over, lids drooping as she sank into the cushions of the sofa. Her hold on her beverage loosened, the glass slowly sliding from her hand as she seemed to fall asleep.

Just before the glass slipped from her fingers, she shot upright and peered around with a rather mortified expression, checking to see if anyone caught her. After a moment, when she concluded that no one noticed, she drew in a deep breath, downed the entire beverage, then returned the glass to the table, all the while wearing a rather blatant grimace. The slightest tremble of Theo’s arms as she drew her blanket around herself caught Loki’s attention, as if she felt a bit chilled.

By that point in the evening, Loki concluded that Theo had been partially truthful: fatigue certainly contributed to her prickly mood. Still, he wished to know what else bothered her to the extent that it elicited such behavior.

The answer would have to wait, however - the others had finally decided on and started the film. Silently, Loki let out a sigh of relief when familiar images appeared on the screen. Of the many films which Loki had been subjected to over his time on Midgard, he had to admit Beauty and the Beast was one of the more tolerable selections.

Slightly wheezing breaths and the hint of a snore - loud enough for Loki to hear, but far too quiet to draw the attention of the larger group, drew Loki’s attention back to Theo. She somehow fell asleep sitting up, with her head leaning awkwardly to one side and mouth barely open. Her blanket somehow slipped off one shoulder, fleece material pooling in her lap. The faintest crease between her brows lingered, as if her displeasure followed her into her sleep.

For a brief moment, Loki considered waking Theo so that she might adjust into a more comfortable position. If she remained in her current position, she undoubtedly would wake with a sore neck.

Given her previous mood, though, Loki decided it might be better to simply leave her be. Besides, she would not be the first Avenger to doze off during a movie night.

About ten minutes after Loki noticed the sounds of almost-snores, Theo’s fingers started to twitch, drawing Loki’s attention back towards her. Her face pinched and twisted, while her breath picked up its pace. After another minute or so, she shrugged as though trying to shove someone off. The movement caused her blanket to slip down so it no longer covered her torso. The momentum threw her off balance; she slumped towards Loki, but still, she did not wake.

A strained whimper, barely audible over the film, escaped her, then a second.

Theo was having a nightmare.

If Loki were in her position, he knew he would want to be awoken before he attracted attention. The risk of angering her by waking her was worth the benefits of preventing her from coming undone in front of everyone.

Loki braced himself for a verbal lashing before he gently shook Theo’s shoulder and murmured her name.

Theo startled awake. Panic briefly flashed across her face, her wide eyes skittering about the room as her chest heaved with each breath. Finally she looked at Loki, still appearing rather disoriented as the film ran in the background.

Even with her previously sour mood, the sight of her was almost endearing.

“I didn’t wish to wake you,” Loki whispered, “however it seemed as if you were having a nightmare.”

Theo narrowed her eyes at him, still looking a bit dazed; after a moment, she broke eye contact, then busied herself fixing her blanket. In the dim light cast by the television, Theo’s hands trembled as she smoothed out the fabric. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her brow.

Whatever haunted her dreams must have truly given her a fright.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.” Offering Theo what he hoped was a gentle smile, he ducked to try and catch her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Theo didn’t reply, but continued to glower at him beneath heavy lashes.

“Yes, yes, I know, you’re cross with me,” Loki muttered and rolled his eyes. He leaned back, draping one arm across the back of the sofa as he settled in. “Very well. I will leave you be, if that is what you wish.”

Just when Loki was about to return his attention to the film, Theo slowly uncurled herself and shuffled a bit closer to Loki - close enough that he could easily wrap one arm around her shoulders if he wanted. She tucked her feet beneath her and curled up in the blanket once more, then leaned a bit closer so her temple lightly pressed against Loki’s shoulder.

The gesture seemed like the sort of thing one might do if they couldn’t muster up an apology, but wanted the benefit of the other person’s support.

Something deep within Loki considered pulling away with a sharp rebuke; after all, Theo had been less than polite throughout the evening, treating his concern with disdain. A younger Loki wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Yet with time came wisdom, and Loki recognized that he himself had behaved in a similar manner in the past, when he needed something but wasn’t willing to admit it, and he recognized Theo was not exactly herself at that moment. So, instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and traced his finger tips along her bicep, a gesture which Frigga used many times to calm a younger Loki’s racing thoughts.

Tension practically oozed from Theo’s body. At first, Loki wondered if he pushed too far, and if Theo only agreed to placate him, despite her own discomfort. But, as time passed, she relaxed, even leaning in so she pressed more firmly against Loki’s side. Her eyes slowly fluttered shut, head bobbing forward as she dozed off again.

All the while, Loki continued his ministrations, smiling to himself as he felt the tension leaving Theo’s muscles. For someone who was not renowned for his ability to soothe others, for once he was surprisingly successful.

Yet, a few moments after her head bobbed forward, Theo blinked her eyes back open and sat up a bit. She took a deep breath, scrubbing her face with one hand in an attempt to stay awake.

Meanwhile, the others sang along to “Be Our Guest,” too entertained to notice the interaction on the sofa.

It occurred to Loki that Theo must have been exhausted if she could doze off amidst what had turned into a rather rambunctious sing-along session; yet for some unknown reason, she refused to fall asleep. Perhaps she mistook Loki’s remark about waking her as pressure to remain awake, or maybe she did not wish to have another nightmare. Regardless, the cycle of almost falling asleep repeated itself, though Theo’s eyes remained closed for longer with each reiteration of the cycle.

After the fourth time Theo sat up and scrubbed her face, Loki could no longer sit idly by and watch her struggle to stay awake. She needed the rest. Though Loki suspected that directly telling Theo to rest would not go over well, he could certainly encourage her to settle into a comfortable position that might facilitate slumber.

“You seem uncomfortable,” Loki pulled Theo a bit closer as he whispered in her ear. “You may rest your head on my shoulder if you wish.”

Theo tilted her head towards Loki, squinting at him through glassy eyes.

“My hair’s not dry,” she mumbled after a pause, her words blurring together. “It’d get your shirt wet.”

Loki couldn’t bite back a smile as he rolled his eyes; with a flick of his wrist, he used a hint of his seidr to dry Theo’s hair.

“There, now you have no excuse.” He murmured, flashing an encouraging smile.

Theo stared at him blankly, as though she did not comprehend what transpired.

Loki sighed, giving her another gentle nudge as he guided her head onto his shoulder.

“You are rather stubborn,” he whispered, though he didn’t put any heat behind his words.

“Mhm…” Theo closed her eyes, humming her response.

Loki resumed tracing shapes along Theo’s arm, hoping it would help with lulling Theo to sleep. Though he kept his eyes trained on the television, he paid little attention to the film.

The more Loki saw of Theo’s exhaustion, the more he regretted his decision to push Theo to join; in hindsight, he ought to have let the poor woman sleep. Then again, he would not have been able to stop her nightmare if she had not joined, so perhaps it was not a terrible decision; even so, he could have handled other elements of their interaction differently.

Caught up in his mind, Loki barely noticed when the weight on Loki’s shoulder grew heavier, or when the tension in her body had completely dissolved. The return of the slight wheeze, which gave each of Theo’s slow inhales and exhales a rougher, uninhibited quality, pulled Loki from his ruminations, at which point he realized Theo had finally allowed herself to fall asleep.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn she had taken some sort of sedative with how deeply she slept; even with the team chattering and singing along to the film, she didn’t stir. Yet, Loki still did not feel as though everything was as it should be.

In his many interactions with Theo, he never noticed a wheeze or any sign of trouble breathing; perhaps Theo had caught some sort of Midgardian illness while she was away, which left her feeling unwell. That would explain the lack of color in her complexion, as well as her expression after finishing her whiskey. The more he thought about the possibility that she may have been ill, the more he noticed how Theo radiated heat, even through her blanket. He brought one hand up to rest on Theo’s forehead, only to find the skin burned beneath his touch.

Theo was ill - that must have been the cause of her behavior.

Loki’s stomach twisted itself into a knot. The last place Theo should have been was a social event; she should have been in bed, and they should have been ensuring she was amply stocked with medicine, fluids, and whatever else she might need.

And even worse, had Loki not pestered Theo into joining them, she would have been resting in her own bed, not fighting to stay awake on a sofa while a dozen superheroes sing along to a silly, animated film that could be viewed whenever they desired.

Norns, Loki truly was a fool.

By that point, they were near the end of the film - interrupting to get Theo to bed would provide little, if any benefit. Though he could not undo his previous behavior, he could use his seidr to cool his body, which he theorized might help with Theo’s fever; he barely thought twice before doing so.

Just before Loki reached his lower temperature, Theo shifted in her sleep to lay her head on Loki’s chest, with her forehead resting in the crook of his neck and one arm slung across his stomach as if to embrace him. Loki stilled for a moment, ensuring he hadn’t accidentally awoken her before he lowered his temperature the rest of the way.

Theo slept for the remainder of the film, not moving once despite the racket in the living room. Even after the film concluded, the added light from a nearby lamp did not wake her, nor did she seem to notice the uptick in volume as conversation filled the air. Unwilling to risk disturbing her, Loki remained perfectly still.

Romanoff was the first to notice. At the sight of Theo curled around Loki, her eyes nearly burst out of her head. Barnes was the next to notice; he narrowed his eyes at the sight, nodding to himself. Third to notice was Maximoff, who absolutely beamed at the pair while leaning into Vision.

Instead of acknowledging their observations, Loki pretended not to notice; he only allowed this because Theo clearly was not well, and his actions worsened the situation.

Stark, unsurprisingly, was the first to actually comment.

“Maybe we should call her sleeping beauty, not Rapunzel.” He quipped, smirking at the sorcerers; next to him, Potts mirrored his smirk perfectly.

“When did she fall asleep?” Maximoff kept her voice low, gaze flickering between her two friends with a coy smile.

“Near the start of the film,” Loki answered, careful to remain quiet so as not to disturb Theo.

“How close to the start?” Potts asked, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands.

“Shortly after ‘Be Our Guest.’” Loki glanced down at Theo, who felt absolutely boneless from how deeply she slept.

“She slept through that much of the movie?” Belova whispered, though it was perhaps too loud to truly be considered a whisper; it was as if she wanted to shout, but refrained from doing so.

“Did she not sleep while in the field?” Loki replied with a question of his own.

“Now that you mention it…” Rogers faltered, his brows pinching together. “I don’t know if she slept more than an hour or two each night, and then on top of fighting she used magic to heal all of us multiple times, including on the way home. She’s probably exhausted.”

“Actually, she looks a bit pale,” Banner pointed out, “Even for her. Any chance she might be sick?”

“I am far from an expert on Midgardian biology, but I suspect she has a fever,” Loki observed, secretly grateful someone else reached the same conclusion. “Not to mention her breathing sounds a bit… off.”

“Friday, what’s Theo’s temperature?” Maximoff called out, glancing up at the ceiling.

“Theo’s temperature is currently 102.3 degrees Fahrenheit,” FRIDAY replied.

“Must be how she melted your icy heart,” Belova muttered under her breath, earning a snort from Shuri and poorly stifled laughter from the Sergeant.

Other than rolling his eyes at Belova’s comment, Loki ignored her. There were more pressing matters to attend to; getting Theo to bed and ensuring she took some medicine top among them.

“Theo,” Loki murmured, giving her shoulder a nudge. “Wake up. The film is over…”

No response.

“Theo—“

Other than a faint whimper, Theo did not stir. A closer look revealed damp strands of hair clung to her skin, undoubtedly the result of her fever.

At that point, waking Theo seemed pointless; she clearly needed to rest, and any one of the Avengers could easily carry her to her quarters. Locking eyes with Maximoff, Loki quietly sighed.

“If I bring her to bed, could you fetch some medicine?”

With a nod, Maximoff darted into the hall on a quest for a glass of water and medication.

Carefully slipping out from beneath Theo, Loki effortlessly scooped her up and rose to his feet. Theo didn’t even notice, sleeping soundly through the trip down the hallway. Maximoff met him at the door to Theo’s quarters with medicine in hand, leading the way to Theo’s bedroom; she pulled back the blankets on the bed before Loki carefully eased Theo on the mattress.

“I’ll leave the medicine here for whenever she wakes up. If she’s sleeping through all of this, she probably needs the rest.” Maximoff set the pill bottle and glass of water on Theo’s bedside table. “Do you think someone should stay with her?”

“You can go–” Loki covered Theo with the blankets, taking care to ensure she was properly tucked in. “I’ll stay.”

It was the least he could do, all things considered.

“Are you sure? I feel bad, I was the one who pressured her to join.” Maximoff crossed her arms, frowning as she watched Theo sleep.

“You simply suggested she attend,” Loki corrected, glancing around for a place he might sit. Without any chairs, it seemed his best choice was the other side of the bed. “It would not have been feasible for you to notice she was unwell from such a short interaction.”

… Unlike Loki, who not only engaged with Theo the entire journey to her quarters, but who nearly caused an injury to Theo as well. He ought to have been more observant.

The scarlet witch sighed. “I guess. Just… if you need anything, let me know, okay?”

“Of course,” Loki conjured himself a book, then rounded the bed to take a seat. “Good night, Maximoff.”

With a final good night, Maximoff departed, leaving Loki to keep watch over Theo.

Loki leaned back against the headboard, opened his book, and tried not to fret over the mess he’d made.

I've planted some clues That I hope you find easily Things that I find hard to speak clear and true I think there's a part of you Hoping I'm hoping you feel like I do And maybe you're listening Somewhere you like to be Where you let everything heavy just go Oh, I'd like to be there How I'd like to stay, How I'd like to listen How I'd like to think I'd know just what to say

When she woke up next, there was no other way to put it: Theo felt like shit.

A steamroller may as well have run her over, backed up, and run over her again with how sore her muscles were. She distantly wondered if her skull was going to crack from the pressure between her temples.

The pain was a significant enough distraction that it took her a minute to realize that despite her last memory of trying not to throw up while watching Beauty and the Beast in the living room, she was now in a bed.

She was in someone’s bed… But her head wasn’t on a pillow. It was too firm to be a pillow, and the shape was wrong. Something twitched beneath her. A muscle? She was laying on someone? Their leg? No, their lap.

Okay, she was in a bed, and her head was on someone’s lap.

Cool fingers massaged her scalp, smooth and soothing in contrast to the misery in her skull. It was a pleasant, though confusing, distraction.

“Good morning…”A low voice rumbled from above, “or should I say, good afternoon?”

With a small groan, Theo forced her sleep-crusted eyes open. She searched the room to find Loki, raven curls loosely falling around his face as he watched her with a small, fond smile.

Her head laid on Loki’s lap. Loki was in her room, on her bed, with her head on his lap, massaging her scalp like it was the most normal thing in the world. And apparently it was the afternoon?

What the hell happened?

“You fell asleep during the film last night and could not be roused, so we brought you to your bed.” Loki’s smile grew wider, as if he was proud to know what Theo was wondering without her saying it out loud. However, the smile didn’t last long, replaced with a stern look. “Why didn’t you tell us you were unwell?”

“I was just tired.” Even Theo had to admit that her excuse was less than convincing.

“According to FRIDAY, you had a fever of 102.”

“I what?” That was certainly news to Theo; a headache and body aches weren’t uncommon from pushing herself too hard, but she didn’t think she’d gotten to the point of a fever.

“Were you not aware of your illness?” Loki sounded just as surprised as Theo was, though for an obviously different reason.

“I thought I just had a bad headache from being tired.” It was, technically, the truth.

“So you were not entirely truthful yesterday evening,” Loki asserted, “you had a headache.”

Damnit.

“Yeah, but I took some Aleve.” Theo grimaced, wishing that she’d had the foresight to move the medicine from her bathroom to her nightstand. “Besides, it’s a headache. I get them all the time.”

“It is rather concerning to think you are a healer who cannot tell when you are ill.” Loki’s teasing would have been much funnier if Theo didn’t feel like complete and utter shit.

“Loki, my job is to heal other people,” Theo scoffed. “It’s different.”

“Yes, well, regardless, it is still concerning. Additionally, your breathing was - and is still - sounds a bit unsettling.”

Fuck. She hadn’t even noticed that she started wheezing again.

“Um, about that.” Theo forced herself to sit up, ignoring her body’s protests, and swallowed nervously. The explanation was not one she was ready to provide, but it didn’t seem like she had much of a choice. “It’s not a cold. I have this thing - asthma - it’s like my lungs get irritated easily and they get inflamed, which makes it hard to breathe. I just need to use my inhaler and it’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t anywhere near a comprehensive definition of what asthma was, but Loki didn’t need to know the specifics.

“Forgive me for my hesitancy to trust you.” Loki arched a brow at Theo and shot her a pointed glance.

To prove her point, she rolled over to her nightstand, fished her inhaler out of the drawer, shook it a few times, sat up as tall as she could, and took a puff from the inhaler while locking eyes with Loki. She held her breath, the band in her chest loosening as the bronchodilator took effect, then let out a slow exhale.

“See?” She took a deep breath, this time noticeably absent of any wheezing. “That would have turned me into a coughing mess if I tried that a minute ago.”

“Very well.” Loki relented, though the way he studied Theo made her wonder if he actually believed her, or if he simply didn’t want to argue. “Do you still have a headache? Maximoff left some medicine for you on your nightstand…”

Theo glanced back at the nightstand; sure enough, a white bottle sat next to a full glass of water, ready for when Theo would need it. She uncapped the bottle, dispersed two pills into her open palm, tossed them back, then washed them down with the water. All the while, she thought back to her original question of what happened.

If she understood correctly, someone brought her back to her bed after the movie. At some point, someone figured out she had a fever. Wanda was there last night, but Loki was there when she woke up, and based on his greeting, it sounded like he must have been there for a while. That meant…

“Wait, were you here all night?”

“Of course.” Loki answered like it was painfully obvious. “We could not simply leave you while you were ill.”

Theo’s stomach twisted itself in a knot. She snapped at Wanda when she got home, and then she was an absolute asshole to Loki the entire night. But instead of leaving her to be miserable, they made sure she got back to bed, had medicine, and then Loki even stayed with her in case she needed anything. He even gave her a fucking scalp massage.

She was the worst.

“God, fuck, I’m so sorry.” Theo scrubbed her face with both hands, desperately trying to ignore the moisture pricking at her burning eyes and the throbbing in her skull.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was such an asshole to you last night - seriously, a bona fide bitch.” Theo dropped her hands to her lap and stared at them; it was all she could do not to make things even worse. “You didn’t deserve it — you were just trying to help me de-stress. You shouldn’t have had to take care of my cranky ass. I definitely didn’t deserve it.”

A cool finger hooked beneath Theo’s chin, lifting her face so she met Loki soft green eyes. “In your defense, I nearly caused you an ankle injury.” He offered a gentle smile at Theo before continuing. “Please, be forthright with me: why didn’t you tell us you were not feeling well?”

He really wanted an answer to the question, didn’t he?

Theo took a deep breath, held it while she scrubbed her face once more, then released it with a sigh. “How wimpy would it sound if I came back and complained about a measly headache?” Self-deprecation crept into Theo’s tone. “Like, oh she can’t even handle a mission where everything went well.”

Loki frowned, dropping his hand away from Theo’s chin. “You need not fear judgment; you would not be here if you were not capable.”

“Every day, I see people who nearly die when they go out into the field. I treat traumatic, life-changing injuries.” Theo countered, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t bitch about a headache - I should be grateful that I get to come back in one piece and see my friends and watch movies with them.”

“It does you no good to admonish yourself for such a thing; someone else experiencing something worse does not negate your own suffering.” Loki ducked, trying to lock eyes with Theo once more. “Be kind to yourself.”

Refusing to meet Loki’s gaze, Theo chewed on the inside of her cheek. He was right: comparing who has it worse doesn’t make it suck less. Hell, she had even told other people that very same message.

But it was much easier to say than to believe, especially when she already felt awful.

Two arms wrapped around Theo, pulling her into a gentle embrace. Instinctively, she pressed herself a bit closer, burying her nose in the fabric of Loki’s shirt and inhaling deeply. She felt the strong, steady beat of Loki’s heart and heard it in her ear, giving her something to focus on and quiet her turbulent thoughts.

“Are you feeling up to a small adventure?”

Not really, but Theo was curious. She leaned back just far enough to send Loki an inquisitive glance.

“A new cafe opened up nearby that I’ve meant to visit, near one of my favorite book stores. As a fellow literature lover I believe it’s time that I introduce you to my favorite place in Midgard.” Loki explained, and if Theo didn’t know better she swore she caught a small flush of pink on Loki’s cheeks. “We need not go there now, if you are not feeling up to it. But when you are well again, I would like for you to join me.”

Theo’s heart quickened. It sounded like a great time, but she was in no state to enjoy it; even beyond the part where everything still hurt, she was still exhausted, despite apparently sleeping all night and most of the day.

“I would love to go, but maybe not quite yet.” She replied, forcing something that she hoped looked like a smile on her face. “I’m still not feeling great, if I’m totally honest. I’m just really tired, I’m kind of achy, and my head still hurts a bit.”

Before Theo could object, Loki brought one blessedly cool palm to her forehead and frowned. “You still feel a bit warm; perhaps it is for the best that we save the expedition for later.” Lowering his hand, he caught Theo’s in his and gave it a tender squeeze. “Are you hungry at all? You’ve not eaten in some time.”

“No,” Theo quickly replied, “My stomach gets kind of queasy when I get headaches like this.”

Loki hummed. “Is there anything I might do to alleviate your discomfort?”

“I didn’t think princes served other people.” Theo replied, unable to stop the smile that curled on her lips.

A breathless puff of laughter snuck out of Loki; Theo felt the laugh rumble through his chest as much as she heard it. “I am willing to make an exception for you… You must not tell the others, though.”

Theo giggled. The medicine from earlier had finally started to take effect, providing a much needed respite from her discomfort. She relaxed further into Loki’s embrace, earning a satisfied hum from her companion.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, feeling herself start to drift. “... For being here. And for not telling me to fuck off when I totally deserved it.”

Loki chuckled at the latter half of her comment. “Darling, it’s my pleasure.”

Somebody, somebody blocked the door I know it was me for sure But somebody knows where I'm hidden away I try very hard to know just what to say Just what to say, just what to say I try very hard to know just what to say Just what to say, just what to say I try very hard to know just what to say Just what to say, just what to say

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eleniblue · 7 hours

Text

Surrender

Summary: Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a romantic, life changing experience.

No one tells you what to do when a). your soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of your planet and made himself king and b). you kind of still want him anyway.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: look, I was intrigued by the idea of a Loki Wins AU and also a soulmate AU and this just sort of happened. I may write more of this concept because it gave me IDEAS. This is also available on AO3.

The mark on your wrist begins to burn the minute he walks into the room.

At first you think it’s a coincidence or a mistake—there are guards walking with him, perhaps it’s one of them. But then he flinches, his right hand going to his left wrist and your heart sinks to your knees. It could still be a coincidence, you tell yourself halfheartedly.

He scans the room and when his eyes land on you, it’s like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place and you know.

He’s much taller than you thought he was—that’s the only conscious and coherent thought you manage to have as he approaches you. Being the subject of his gaze is overwhelming in a way that you sort of expect, but it still makes you want to sit down and close your eyes. He looks you over, his gaze lingering briefly on your nametag from work.

“Show me your wrist,” he says.

You don’t think he’s using his powers, but you comply automatically, extending your arm toward him, wrist turned up. There’s a frisson of electricity that buzzes along the back of your hand when he touches it—if there were any remaining doubts about who he is and his relationship to you, that feeling surely puts them to rest. You know that he must have felt something too from the way he looks at you sharply, as though he thinks you’ve done something intentional to cause this. You can only hope that your wide eyed bewilderment convincingly conveys your innocence.

His expression betrays nothing as he examines the mark on your wrist, which is now glowing a bright gold that would be pretty if the circumstances were different.

It’s funny, you think. You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life and all you can think is that you wish it wasn’t happening.

He releases your hand and looks at you in a calculating sort of way. “Come with me,” he says finally.

You do, of course. What other choice do you have?

The next several hours are a blur.

You are shuffled from place to place. Usually there is at least one guard—you’re not sure why. The idea of you being able to do any damage to him is laughable and escape doesn’t exactly seem like an option. Where could you go that he could not find you?

It’s a depressing thought; you try not to think much about it.

You know exactly when the news breaks because it coincides with your phone basically becoming unusable due to the flood of notifications, calls, and texts. You put it on airplane mode to compose a short message to your family and friends. Your reassurances feel a little trite given the circumstances: I’m fine, I’ll call when I can.

You can’t exactly type what you’re really thinking, which is more along the lines of I’ve just learned that my soulmate is the homicidal maniac who led the successful takeover of our planet. I’m doing about as well as you’d expect.

You turn airplane mode off long enough to send the email. Once it sends, you power down your phone. It doesn’t seem prudent to leave it on, at least not right now—right now, it only serves as a reminder of a life you know you’re going to have to leave behind and you’re not at all ready to confront that particular loss.

They eventually take you to what you assume are his rooms. You’re surprised by how traditional the decor is—you had expected a cold sort of minimalism, but there’s more wood and warm colors than you would have thought. You are informed that there are clothes for you in the closet; you nod and say nothing, though you wonder how they managed to pull an entire wardrobe together in the span of only a few hours. Magic, perhaps.

You are finally left alone, though you’re fairly certain that you would find guards stationed outside if you were to look.

You take one of the elegant velvet throws from the bed and wrap it tightly around yourself before settling on the couch next to the window. You’re not exactly cold, but it feels like a necessary armor between you and this unfamiliar place.

You stare out the window for a long time. You’re too high up to people watch and you’re not sure that you could handle that anyway—it would be yet another reminder of the fact that your life has changed in a massive, earth shaking way that you can’t even begin to understand. Instead, you stare at the tiny cars on the city streets below, snaking their way to destinations that feel so far out of your grasp that they might as well be on a different planet altogether.

It’s late when he finally shows up—so late that you’ve actually gotten ready for bed, donning one of the silk nightgowns that had been left for you. You can tell it’s more expensive than any sleepwear you’ve ever owned in your life. You’re just glad that it’s modest—you had half expected to find that all your pajamas were bustiers, thongs, and thigh highs in some sort of ill considered attempt to seduce you. But this is elegant and understated, with a matching robe that you cinch tightly around your waist.

You sit on the couch, the throw still wrapped snugly around you. He looks at you, the corner of his mouth curled up in a slight smirk.

“I hope you don’t intend to stay there the entire night,” he says.

“I hardly know you,” you say before you can even contemplate whether it’s wise.

He looks…amused isn’t quite the right word, but there’s a subtle tilt to the corner of his lips—not quite a smile, but maybe somewhere in the vicinity.

“Give it time,” he says, and something about that makes you shiver.

You intend to sleep on the couch, at least for these first few nights when everything still feels so raw and strange.

Or that was your plan, anyway.

Loki doesn’t say anything else as he prepares for bed and you stare resolutely at the window so as not to invite any more conversation or prompt any invitations to join him in bed. Eventually, the lights go out and you are left alone with your thoughts in the dark.

The room is much colder at night.

You’re not sure if it’s on purpose, though you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Perhaps he likes it like this. Perhaps it’s to lure you to him, to tempt you into seeking out the warmth of his bed and body.

You pull the blanket more tightly around your shoulders. Eventually, you allow your eyes to drift shut.

You wake some time later in the middle of the night. The room feels even colder, the velvet of the throw and the silk of your nightgown and robe a scanty defense against the chill. You burrow against the couch cushions and it’s sort of bearable.

But you also have to pee.

You hold off for as long as you can, but you eventually summon the will to leave the couch and seek out the bathroom.

The bathroom is even colder—perhaps it’s all that glass and marble that makes the difference. You’re wearing your robe and you’ve still got the blanket wrapped around you, but your teeth are chattering by the time you wash your hands. You run the water as hot as you can stand, but it only does so much. If you were braver—if it wasn’t your first night here, you would run an extra hot shower and stay under the spray until your fingers and toes pruned and the chill was chased from your bones.

Instead, you hustle back to the couch, burrowing against the cushions, throw and robe wrapped tightly around you. But you still can’t seem to shake the cold. You huddle on the couch, shivering, trying to calm your body.

Time passes and you don’t grow any warmer. You wonder if you can steal another throw from the bed—surely he won’t miss one—when a voice speaks from the darkness.

“Come to bed,” Loki says.

You clear your throat. “What?”

“I can hear your teeth chattering from here. Come to bed and stop being absurd.”

You hesitate, staring into the dark. You consider the cold, the slight kink in your neck from the way you’ve been sleeping on the couch, the late hour, the way that sleep pulls at your eyes. A bed is appealing. Maybe more appealing than it should be.

You find yourself getting to your feet and slowly making your way across the room.

You pause on the other side of the bed—your side, you suppose, though calling it that still feels too intimate. You can just make him out in the dark.

“You’ll stay on your side,” you say, like making it a statement will make it so.

“Well, you hardly know me.” His voice is clipped, more bitter than you expect as he echoes your words from earlier.

You can’t help but scowl. “I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours and it’s the middle of the night. I’m not doing this right now.”

He laughs. It’s sharp and brittle and unexpected, but it’s a laugh all the same, and something about that helps, if only a little.

You don’t say anything else as you climb into bed. You find that the blankets are warm—warmer than you expect—and heavy. There’s a part of you that expects yourself to be too nervous and on edge to fully relax, but the coziness of the blankets piled around you is oddly calming, even with Loki mere inches away. You hunker down underneath the blankets, situating yourself on the pillows.

He doesn’t say anything and it’s not long until his breathing becomes steady and even.

And after a while, yours does, too.

Consciousness creeps up on you slowly the next morning, a far cry from the jarring alarm on your phone that usually disrupts your slumber. You are warm and cozy, cocooned in the blankets, safe from all of the bullshit that had happened yesterday.

It’s such a peaceful, easy awakening that it takes you a moment to realize that you aren’t alone.

It takes another moment for you to realize that your cheek is pressed against Loki’s chest. And to make matters worse, not only are your arms wrapped around his him, your right leg is also flung across his waist, like you can’t bear to be parted from him for even a moment.

But before the panic sets in, there is a barely perceptible moment where your body just enjoys the feeling of being pressed against him. It’s quick and you’d deny it if asked, but the rush that you get from giving into the pull of your soulbond for even that brief moment is nothing short of incredible.

But it’s just a moment and your mind quickly turns to the matter of extracting yourself without drawing his notice. Ideally, he’ll just stay asleep and you won’t have to deal with any awkward fallout. If you move very slowly and carefully, perhaps he won’t notice.

You carefully start to move your leg from his waist.

“To be clear, you’re on my side of the bed,” he says.

God fucking dammit.

You abandon all subtlety and quickly peel yourself away from him.

“I must have rolled over in my sleep,” you say, incredibly conscious of how stupid that sounds.

He smirks, which is somehow worse than if he’d said anything.

“It won’t happen again,” you say.

It does.

This is your new routine: you start every evening on the couch, wrapped up in your robe and throw. You wake some time in the night, teeth chattering. Sometimes, Loki will tell you to come to bed. Other times, you quietly give up and slip under the covers on your side of the bed.

But every morning without fail, you wake tangled around him.

Sometimes, he’s spooned up behind you; more often, though, you’re the one clinging to him. It’s as though your body has a homing device that leads you over to his side of the bed in your sleep, dutifully ignoring all of your stern warnings about who stays where.

The worst part of it is that you’re fighting your own instincts. On a very basic, physical level, you yearn to be close to him. There’s a part of you that revels in these unintentional moments of closeness, that wants to allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of him, to allow him to put his hands on your body, for you to put your hands on him.

The fact that he wakes up noticeably hard most mornings does not make this any easier.

This is a problem that you’re not entirely sure how to solve and the second week in, your desire for information finally outweighs your desire to avoid social media and the deluge of emails and texts that you know are waiting for you on your phone.

You turn your phone back on and immediately delete all of your social media apps. You don’t know what they’re saying about you and you don’t care to. You turn off all of your notifications, even the little number icons that show you how many unread emails and texts that you have. You want absolutely no distractions.

You open a private browser window and pull up Google.

Newly connected soulbonds are the hormonal equivalent of pouring out a bunch of gasoline and striking a match. Soulbonds are intended to be consummated. You know this. There are people who wait it out for one reason or another, but that’s very much the exception—it’s a physical and emotional test of endurance. And you’re beginning to understand why.

The internet is not very helpful. You already know what happens when you don’t consummate a soulbond promptly—increased arousal, restlessness, vivid dreams, and so on as time goes on. You’re more interested in mitigation. You find a few blogs that have entirely irrelevant suggestions like cuddling on the couch or holding hands. “While you’re waiting for intercourse, why not try some outercourse?” one post muses with a level of earnestness that causes you to immediately turn off your phone and fling it across the room.

You’re going to have sex with him at some point. That’s inevitable. On a very basic level, you want him—it’s more or less coded into your DNA. But that is at odds with the reality of who he is and what he’s done. It might feel good to wake up tangled around him, but it only takes a minute to remember the battle of New York and it nearly extinguishes the desire burning within you.

But only nearly and only for now.

The third week is when things start getting increasingly difficult.

Loki seems content to wait things out. You can feel the burn of his gaze on you, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t prod.

You, on the other hand, find yourself slipping into a heightened state of arousal that is becoming impossible to ignore. Midway through the week, you finally give in and try touching yourself in the shower in the hope of some relief and you come so quickly and so hard that you have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out and your legs very nearly buckle from the force of it. A few twitches of your fingers has you sprawled on the shower floor and coming again, harder than before. You repeat this trick a few times but even as strong as it is, it doesn’t really help—you’re back to where you started within minutes.

Worse though, is the fact that it’s his face that you see when you come. Every. Single. Time. You imagine him over you, his gaze dark and intent as he watches you come; slack jawed and hissing in pleasure as he pushes into you; growling in approval and impatience as you take his cock into your mouth. The images come entirely unbidden and stick in the forefront of your thoughts like a burr clinging to wool.

When you see him later that afternoon, his gaze lands on you in such a way that it feels like he knows everything you’ve done and everything you’ve seen, from that moment in the shower to the shameful thoughts you had as you came.

The dreams start shortly after, and they are objectively worse.

The dreams are far more vivid than just images. In the dreams, he’s touching you, coaxing you to peaks you could never have imagined, pressing into you, taking you hard and fast and achingly slow and everything in between. The dreams leave you out of breath and shaky, aching for a touch that you know that you should not want, but do with every fiber of your being. By some miracle, they only seem to occur while you are on the couch and not when you’re in bed, but that luck won’t hold forever.

Perhaps more importantly, you know it’s only a matter of time before you give in. Deep down, you’ve known this from the moment the mark on your wrist started to burn. Your resistance is eroding like a sandcastle at high tide and it’s only a matter of time before you crumble.

But not yet. Not yet.

Five weeks after your arrival, you wake sweating and out of breath from another dream.

You take a few deep breaths. It was similar to the ones you’d had before. Thinking about the details makes your core ache and your clit throb so you try to keep them out of your mind.

You’re half surprised that you’re not tangled around Loki, given the content and subject of your dream, but that makes sense when you realize he’s not in bed. Instead, he sits on the couch, staring into the middle distance. Perhaps he is struggling with the same kinds of dreams.

The idea of you making Loki too hot and bothered to sleep is more appealing than you’d like to admit. You hastily dismiss the thought before it can bring any more heat to your already too warm skin or add more fuel to the flickering desire that seems to have settled permanently in the cradle of your hips.

You slip out of bed and go to the window, folding your arms across your stomach as you stare out at the sleeping city.

“You were calling out in your sleep.”

More heat prickles at your skin.

“Hm,” you say, trying your best to sound casual.

“What were you dreaming of?” he asks.

He’s only asking because he already knows the answer. You know this. But the lie still slips from your lips: “I don’t remember.”

He laughs, a quiet and dangerous sound that stokes the fire in your belly. “Have you forgotten, darling, that I am the god of lies?”

You can hear him walking toward you, but you keep your back turned. Has the room always been this warm?

He waits until he is directly behind you to speak again. “Will you lie again when I ask if you were dreaming of me?” His voice is so close, full of depth and a little husky.

“You flatter yourself,” you say.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, feel the whisper of his breath on your neck. “You’d like to think that, wouldn’t you?” He pauses for a moment. “But you were calling out for me.”

Your lips are dry. You want to deny it, but it feels useless. Worst case scenario, he’s still mostly right: you were dreaming of him and you can’t even really deny crying out for him because you were asleep and you don’t know for sure.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he continues. His voice drops. “Every time I close my eyes, I see you writhing in pleasure beneath me.” He pauses. “Or I see myself between your legs, worshiping you with my mouth, bringing you to ecstasy over and over before I finally take you.”

Your heart is pounding and every nerve in your body feels as though it’s connected directly to your clit. You are warm—too warm—and you can feel your pulse pounding in your throat.

“What were you dreaming of?” he continues, his voice barely a murmur.

“Nothing,” you say.

He clicks his tongue. “Try again, darling.”

You say nothing and after a moment of silence, he seems to decide that it’s time to switch strategies.

“You must be so wet,” he murmurs, his tone low and soothing.

Your stomach and your cunt clench. If he starts talking dirty to you, it’s over.

“We’re not meant to go this long like this,” he says. “We both know that. It’s been five weeks. Your poor cunt is probably aching for me, just as I ache for you.”

Your breath is coming in shaky gasps. You need him. You can feel your resolve starting to slip.

“Yield to me.” His voice is rough with wanting, like this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “I know you feel it. I feel it, too. You yearn for me, you crave my touch. Let me make you feel good, darling, let me ease that ache. Yield and I will give you everything.”

You draw in a shaking breath and slowly turn to face him. He’s looking at you with an intensity that you expect, but it takes your breath away nonetheless.

The remnants of your resistance are lost to the wave of him and the only thing that’s left in its place is a raw need like you’ve never experienced before.

You don’t know what to say, so in the end, you settle for his name. Just his name, said quietly with all the desperation and longing that has been making your life hell these past few weeks.

You get a glimpse of the fire in his eyes before he’s on you.

There’s nothing gentle about this kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who have been deprived of each other for too long, your teeth bumping against each other, tongues twisting and tangling. You end up pressed against the wall next to the window, your leg wrapped around his waist, his hand supporting your thigh. He presses his hips against you and you moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against your swollen, sensitive clit. He draws back slightly to look at your face as he slowly grinds his hips against yours, his free hand moving to palm your breast over the silk of your nightgown.

You moan again, your head dropping back against the wall. The soft, slippery friction of the silk of your nightgown against your nipple and the soaked lace of your underwear rubbing against your clit is enough to make you go cross eyed, a slow tease that only fans the burning embers within you. Your body is overheated and too tense, but Loki is blessedly cool in a way that somehow both soothes and inflames.

“You’re drenched. I can already feel that,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he moves against you. “I could make you come like this.”

You whimper, rocking your hips back against him. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “Another time. Tonight I want to feel you when you come.” He drops his hand from your breast, trailing down your stomach and moving in between your legs. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, and you let out a needy whine as he strokes the slick folds of your sex. “Is this all for me?” he asks, his voice slipping into a low growl.

You barely manage a breathy affirmative.

“Sweet thing.” His thumb rolls over your clit as he slides one finger into you, and your back arches automatically, your breasts jutting out. “We’re going to have to do something about this, aren’t we?”

“Please,” you breathe.

“How can I resist such a sweet plea?” he says, sliding another finger into you and curling it just so. “Or such a wet and needy cunt?”

“Don’t stop,” you say.

“I ought to make you beg me for it after everything you put me through.” His eyes darken as his thumb presses against your clit and you moan. “But perhaps I can be generous. I can feel how much you need to come on my fingers.”

You nod, slack jawed and panting.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs. “You’ve tried to deny yourself, but you need me, you need my touch.”

You whimper, your hips rocking.

“Say it,” he says, stroking your clit.

“I need to come,” you moan.

“A good start,” he says, his voice a stern purr. “But not quite what I asked, my love. Try again.”

A twinge of irritation manages to work its way to the forefront of your mind. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly in a state to be playing twenty questions.”

His eyes light up with a predatory gleam that heralds the arrival of something that you know will end enjoyably for you.

“Oh, darling, that attitude won’t do at all.” His fingers are immediately and conspicuously absent and you very nearly cry out in frustration. But before you can, he is sweeping you into his arms and making the journey to the bed in several long strides. He sets you gently on the bed and looms over you, green eyes flashing as his hands stroke up your thighs. You lift your hips and he pulls your underwear off, tossing it to the side.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” His voice is a growl. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to come.” You know it’s the wrong answer, but this particular game of cat and mouse and the predatory gleam in Loki’s eyes are making you even wetter and god, you need him.

His eyes flash with a barely concealed delight. “Try again.”

You spread your legs rather conspicuously, hiking your nightgown up to your waist. “I need to come.”

He’s looking at you intently, lips slightly parted. “You’re trying to distract me with that pretty cunt, you wicked thing.”

“Is it working?” you ask.

He lowers his head to kiss the inside of your left knee. “It would work much better if you answered me properly and told me everything you need.”

You think you have an idea of what he wants to hear, but you’re not quite ready to give up the game yet. Instead, you pull your nightgown up and over your head and toss it to the side. His eyes are dark as he looks at you, his gaze lingering on your breasts and trailing down to the apex of your spread legs. You wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to take you in the way that you both need.The thought sends another flood of heat to your aching core.

You lick your lips. “Will you make me come, Loki?”

Another wolfish grin. “Closer. But not quite. Try again.”

You let your hand slide down your stomach and between your legs and you part your sopping folds so he can see the full extent of what he’s done to you—every dripping inch. The look he’s giving you now only heightens the feeling.

“Should I make myself come?” you ask and you’re immediately rewarded with an almost feral look and a sharp smack to your ass.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

You put on your most innocent expression, even as his visible hunger makes you ache. “I thought you’d like seeing me touch myself.”

“Oh, there will be time for that later,” he says, his eyes still dark. “I’m particularly interested in seeing what prompted those intriguing little noises I kept hearing while you were in the shower. But every tremor of pleasure that wracks your body tonight will be from me alone. Now,” his eyes glitter and his hand replaces yours on your cunt, his long fingers spreading you open, but not touching you, his expression rapt with undisguised greed, “tell me what you need.”

Your capacity to tease and resist him was well and truly exceeded when he smacked your ass and was further obliterated by the monologue he just delivered. “I need you to make me come, Loki. I need you so bad.”

His smile is filled with dark promises and a hunger that you have every interest in sating several times over.

“Good girl,” he says.

And his fingers slide back into you as his mouth envelopes your aching clit.

You moan as your hips lift and your hands tangle in his hair. He mumbles something that sounds like “perfect” against your clit, first teasing you with the tip of his tongue and then pressing it flat against you and rubbing in slow circles. Meanwhile, his fingers have found that soft, aching spot inside of you and he presses against it in slow, firm thrusts that make you tremble.

You initially think that you’ll be quite quick to come because you’re already so wound up, but Loki seems determined to find the edge and keep you there for as long as possible—and he’s really, really good at it. He falls into a rhythm where his tongue strokes your clit once, twice, three times and withdraws; his fingers pick up the thread, stroking your walls once, twice, three times and withdrawing, only for his tongue to resume where he left off. In this way, he keeps you balanced on the edge in a perfect kind of torture. It feels so good, but it’s not quite enough to get you there just yet.

You make liberal use of his name—it’s a plea, a curse, a benediction, a moan, a sigh. Instinctively, you know that he likes this, but it’s not enough to distract him into letting you fall even a moment before he wants you to.

The ache that’s been building in your hips for the last couple weeks is growing, burning bright and warm. Your body feels electric in the best way, your nerves humming and buzzing and straining for release.

“Loki,” you moan, partly as encouragement and partly because you want him so badly.

You’re so close. Your entire body is tense and trembling; all you can think about is how badly you need to come, how much you are aching for your release.

So close.

“Loki, please,” you moan, truly desperate now. “Please let me come. Make me yours—”

You’re not sure if it’s what you said, the desperation in your voice, or pure coincidence, but in that moment, he shifts his rhythm so that his mouth and fingers are no longer alternating, but are instead moving in sync. And this is what you need to tip you over, to allow that wave to finally, finally crest and then break.

Your orgasm hits you hard, pulling a loud moan from deep within your chest and making your entire body quake. Sparklers are dancing along your veins, champagne bubbles fizzing along your muscles, stars bursting behind your eyes. You have never felt anything like this before—you are satisfied but also aching for more, falling apart and being remade over and over again.

It’s only when you’re decidedly in the blissful wave of the aftershocks that he dares to lift his head and he looks you over like you’re something wonderful. Before you can raise your hands to reach for him, he’s crawling up to you, claiming your mouth in a kiss that feels deeper than the ocean.

He slides his hand in between your legs and you whimper, shivering at the sensation of his thumb stroking your sensitive clit. But somehow, he finds that particular angle and pressure that’s just enough, but not too much. You moan and he slides a finger back into you, rolling in the same rhythm as his thumb on your clit.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Keep going for me, darling. I want to watch you come this time.” His voice is so firm and authoritative and it strikes sparks up and down your spine.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips rocking with his hand.

“You’re doing so well getting ready for me,” he purrs. He lowers his voice to a rough growl. “I can’t wait to fuck you until you’re trembling and coming all over my cock like the wicked, filthy girl that you are.”

It’s the combination of his words and his voice and his perfect hands that does it this time. A rolling, fluttering shudder fizzes through your body, building to a peak that has you letting out a guttural moan as you clench around his thrusting fingers.

“Yes, that’s it,” Loki says as he watches you through hooded eyes. “You are gorgeous when you come undone.”

He kisses you slowly, fingers moving steadily until the final shudder rolls through you.

Somehow, through all of this, he’s remained fully clothed. There’s an aspect to this that’s appealing—it makes everything feel particularly decadent and a little forbidden—but your palms are practically itching with your need to touch him. You need him inside you, but you also need him close, bare skin on bare skin.

Your hands sneak under his shirt and you suck in a sharp breath when you feel the heat of his skin underneath your palms. You tug his shirt off him and make quick work of his pants before drawing back to look at him.

He looks like art. It’s a silly thought, but there’s some truth to it—there’s an almost ethereal quality in the sharp angles of his face and the elegant symmetry of his musculature.

Your gaze drifts down to his cock. He’s long, thick, and hard, the tip flushed and slick with pre-come. An ache courses through you—something about seeing the full evidence of his arousal makes everything seem more real, makes you want him with renewed ferocity.

You want to touch him and so you do, your fingers curling around his shaft.

“Can you feel how much I need you?” he asks as you stroke him slowly. He is remarkably composed, though you catch the slight hitch in his breath and it sends a thrill through you.

“Will you show me?” you ask.

“Every day,” he says.

It’s an answer you’re not expecting. You were speaking strictly in the immediate, physical sense. This feels deeper, more meaningful. You’re not quite sure what to say, so you kiss him and he kisses you back with an intensity and thoroughness that makes your toes curl.

He rolls over you, his body covering yours. It’s almost overwhelming how good his bare skin feels against yours. You take his cock in your hand again and stroke him, slowly rubbing the tip from your clit to your entrance, coating him in your slick.

You expect him to just push forward when you guide him to your entrance and you’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t—you’ve both waited so long for this and your need for him is burning inside you like an inferno.

But instead he pauses, his eyes locked with yours.

“Will you have me?” he asks. There’s vulnerability in the question, a softness in his green eyes that you don’t expect. It feels like a loaded question, though not necessarily in a bad way.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathe.

Something like relief flashes briefly in his eyes before he leans in and kisses you. You tilt your hips up again and this time, you feel the blunt head of his cock slowly press into your waiting warmth.

You’d read people describing first times with their soulmates and it had always sounded so hyperbolic and silly. They’d throw around words like euphoric and transcendent and all you could do was try not to roll your eyes.

But the moment Loki is fully seated inside you, you finally get it. Every overwrought, overused cliché seems to occur to you all at once—puzzle pieces falling into place and locks and keys and halves made whole and all that bullshit—and it all makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before.

Loki’s eyes are stormy above you, to the point that you think you may have angered him, but then he kisses you with a ferocity and possessiveness that steals your breath and makes you tighten around him.

“Mine,” he growls against your lips. “Mine.”

There’s a lot of emotion in that word. There’s history in that word. It’s the sort of thing that the two of you will probably need to unpack later. For now, though, you wrap your legs around him and meet his demanding, hungry kisses with your own.

“I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips. “Take me.”

You expect him to respond to that plea with a frantic pace. But instead, his first thrusts are slow, like he’s savoring it. Your body yields to him instinctively, your muscles drawing him in and then tightening further as he withdraws. You are so slick, so ready for him that it almost feels a little obscene.

“You are exquisite,” he rasps as he sinks into you, his head bowing to kiss and nip at your neck. “I have been aching for you.”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for—more of this, more of him—but he seems to know anyway. He kisses you deeply as you wrap your legs around his waist, rolling your hips up to meet his.

In one fluid motion, he rolls you over so that you are on top. He looks up at you, an irrepressible smirk curling at the corners of his lips.

“Go on,” he says, his voice low. “I want to see you take your pleasure from me. Claim your throne, my love.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. This is a man who single-handedly conquered the entire planet and he’s telling you he wants you to ride his cock until you come. It is raw and sexy and undeniably hot and the way he’s looking up at you makes you feel beautiful and powerful.

You lean forward, bracing your hands on the mattress, tilting your pelvis until you find the right angle, the one that makes your stomach tighten and your breath stutter.

A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “Right there?”

You let out a shaky breath and rock your hips. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for you to find your rhythm, but you find that you want—or perhaps need—to go slow and steady. Loki watches you, his hips rocking with yours as he lets you set the pace, his hands sliding from your hips to your breasts and back again, like he can’t get enough. His gaze is intent and intense and you get the sense that he’s cataloging every movement, every gasp or sigh, furrowed brow or bitten lip.

The coil in your hips is starting to wind tighter and you know it won’t be long.

As though he knows, Loki slides a hand down your body, palm gently pressing against your lower stomach. A fantastic pressure begins to blossom in your hips and you whimper.

“You’re doing so well,” he purrs. “So tight and wet. You’re perfect.”

“Getting close,” you breathe.

“I know, I can feel you,” he says.

You’re at a point somewhere beyond words, riding that wave, chasing bliss that you can almost feel. A choked whimper falls from your lips.

“That’s it,” rasps Loki. “Be a good girl and come on my cock.” He flicks his thumb against your clit and you completely unravel.

It was good the first two times, but having him inside you as you come sends you to another plane of existence entirely. Your orgasm seems extended, the feeling of his cock against the spasming muscles of your cunt creating more even rippling pleasure. And the noise that he makes, the filthy praise that falls from his lips, the way that his fingertips dig into your hips just makes it all better.

He rolls you over onto your back just as you’re starting to feel boneless, and pulls you into a deep kiss. He thrusts into you, a little faster than the pace you had set, but still slow and steady.

“I want to feel you come again,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this, how good you feel?”

You shudder as his cock drags again against that spot inside you. He repeats the motion and you keen, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“That’s it,” he rasps, bringing your leg up over his hip to press even more deeply inside of you. “Come on, darling. Let me feel you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his hungry, demanding kiss with your own. You roll your hips with his, chasing the flickers of bliss that he’s steadily stoking to an inferno once more.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Need you. Please.”

He groans and increases his pace just enough to make you whimper. The desire inside of you is catching fire.

“I…fuck, I—” Your hands are gripping his shoulders, your body shaking as you approach your end.

Loki’s eyes are wild, his teeth bared. You can tell that he’s close, that he’s chasing the same incredible feeling that you are.

“I want you to come for me,” he grits out. “And the second I feel your tight cunt start to tremble around me, I’m going to come inside you.

You moan, fingernails digging into his shoulders. You are unbearably close.

“Do you want that, darling?” he says. “Do you want me to come inside you? Do you want your perfect cunt filled with my seed?”

You are almost beyond words, but not quite: “Yes. Please.”

Despite how close he is, he still gives the impression of being entirely in control. He lowers his head so that his lips graze yours and his eyes are all that you can see. “Then come for me,” he says.

Two more deadly smooth rolls of his hips and you do. A guttural, plaintive sound falls from your lips as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm, your cunt squeezing around the girth of his cock. He groans, mumbling something in a language you don’t recognize before he, too, starts to unravel.

His face is rapturous when he comes, his head tipping back and his mouth falling open, brow furrowing. If you weren’t so distracted with the rippling shocks of your own pleasure, you would try to commit it to memory. Instead, you simply try to enjoy the feeling of him emptying himself inside of you, the stuttering thrust of his hips, the soft groan that falls from his lips. Finally he stills, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding against yours.

You feel…it’s not different, exactly, but there’s a kind of ease and connection that just feels right. The restless ache inside of you is finally quiet and you feel loose and languid and pleasantly sleepy.

Finding your soulmate isn’t necessarily the same as falling in love. Sometimes it all happens in the moment. Sometimes it’s years in between.

For you, though, you can pinpoint the exact moment that seed was planted: Loki raising his head to look at you, his hand curled against your cheek. His gaze is careful, reverent, like you are as warm and golden as the dawn just barely beginning to streak the morning sky.

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eleniblue · 20 hours

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You Are My Home

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: Loki leaves you for a month to visit Asgard with Thor and you are more then excited to welcome him home.

A/N: This is not what I'm supposed to be working on right now but I listened to the song linked below on the way home and the damn thing just wrote itself... enjoy 💚

In the two and a half years you and Loki have been together, this is by far the longest you have ever been apart. Loki would often spend a few days or even a week away on missions but today is day thirty without him. He and Thor returned to Asgard to take care of a political matter and you were both devastated to find out you would not be able to go with him. You had cried yourself to sleep in his arms the night before he left and you haven't slept a full night since.

You spent the whole day anxiously awaiting this moment, he is finally going to arrive any minute. Looking at yourself in the window, you check your makeup and hair for the hundredth time, wanting to look perfect for him. You smooth out the fabric on your favorite dress and smile, Loki bought it for you to wear for your first anniversary. It is a deep emerald green and fits your body as if it was made for you.

The wind picks up suddenly and your heart beats faster, you know instantly the Bifrost is opening. You turn away from the building and walk across the grass to wait closer to the open area where they will arrive. You can barely contain your excitement as the air around you buzzes. Lightning and streaks of bright colored lights pierce the thick clouds and burn into the dried grass behind the Avengers Compound.

You force yourself to stay where you are until the wind ties down and the lights fade. You see two tall figures standing in the center of a charred spiral.

"Loki!" your legs immediately carry you towards him.

"Y/N!" he answers, his voice full of joy as he quickly moves to meet you. He pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you easily off the ground as he spins, making you giggle. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his desperately, as if you are trying to make up for all of the kisses you two have missed out on in the last month.

"Gods, how I've missed you," he says when you break the kiss, he puts you down and keeps his arms around you.

"I missed you every second you were gone," you tell him honestly. "Promise me if you ever go home again, you'll take me with you."

He raises one hand to stroke your cheek lightly, "Asgard is many things, my dear, but I don't call it home anymore."

You look at him curiously and he smiles, "I was going to wait to do this until tonight but I don't want to wait another moment."

He looks over his shoulder at his older brother who smiles at you both and takes a few steps away.

You cover your mouth with your left hand as your heart pounds quickly in your chest. "Loki?" you barely whisper in disbelief as he take a small step away from you and gets down on one knee.

A small ring box appears in one hand with a green flash and he takes your right hand in his other hand.

"Y/N, home is where you are and every night I spent alone on Asgard was worth it to come back to you. You are my home, you are my everything when I feel alone. You are my shelter when all my hope is gone. You are my heart, you are the one I want to spend every minute of every day with. I love you with every fiber of my being," he says as he looks up at you. "Y/N, my love, my queen. Will you make me the happiest man in the nine realms by becoming my wife?"

"Yes! Yes," you say excitedly as Loki stands. "I love you," you tell him as he slips the most beautiful ring you have ever seen onto your finger.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @simone818283 @tonystank8 @im-briana-stan @foxherder @chantsdemarins @catsladen @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @dragonmurray @honeydew3064 @malfoycassimalfoy @kneelingformyloki @newtomofgods @jiyascepter @eleniblue

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eleniblue · 22 hours

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eleniblue · 23 hours

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eleniblue · 23 hours

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A God Can Hold His Liquor (will resume with a final 10 chapters)

Transgressions (complete!!)

Loki Omorashi

Straight-Up Loki Smut

Loki Fluff & Comfort

Frosty & Festive

Miscellaneous & Horny

BDSM Tombola

Affirmations

Soccer Aid thirst with @lokisgoodgirl

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eleniblue · 23 hours

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A Million Miles Away.

anonymous asked: Could you make a fanfic that involves Adam with shy!reader? And one night he finds her playing one of his instruments and singing in a soft and lovely voice that he can’t help be entranced by. And can she maybe be singing The Moon Song since that’s one of my all-time favourite songs?

@acrossyourneck @nephalem67 @janebrownnie @archy3001 @thatweirdwalangpake @mylovelycrazyworld @kinghiddlestonanddixon @kcd15 @littlefrogstuff @devilbat @hiddlefan81 @midnight-queen-1

Hope you like it!

(Lyrics are from The Moon song, sung by Scarlett Johansson in the movie ‘’Her’’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gIIwiRxed0 )

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eleniblue · 23 hours

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Kitchen Confessions | 18+ Only

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Loki x f!reader

Words: 2179

Warnings/Content: fluff followed by smut, reader and Loki are roommates, argument (almost like a banter), mutual pining, idiots who won't confess their love to each other, frustrated love confessing??, p in v, creampie, kissing, nicknames (love, sweetheart, darling), oral (fem receiving)

Summary: You give Loki some silent treatment.

"Fine, I don't care about you," he says casually, with that same challenging face he always carries whenever he talks to you, asking you to react to him, argue with him. But this time, his words actually gashed.

Did he really not care? Did he actually just see you as his roommate and nothing else all this time?

There was always some chemistry and some spark between you two, and you were aware it was always more than that. That understanding between you two, that flirting, being protective of each other, you were no stranger to it that you two used to behave like couples most of the time.

But today, in this heated argument you two just had, when he said those words, it did feel as if he meant that.

You frown slightly and look him in the eyes before turning around and heading to the kitchen, not wanting to talk to him in the slightest.

He watches you leave in front of him and head to the kitchen while he stands in the living room. He can't believe you actually fell for his act of not caring. He sits down on the couch with an agitated expression on his face. You will go back to normal after a while, he knew that, as you always did after every banter.

It had been hours now, you had not even spoken a word to him. Leave that, not even glanced at him. You were ignoring his presence. And he was hating that. You were going around the house doing your business, making yourself some food, and keeping your bedroom clean.

Gosh, you didn't even come to lay on the couch beside him to watch some television today.

Now you were in the kitchen again, and he could make out you were trying to find yourself an evening snack. He decides to join you in the kitchen, his annoyance at your avoidance was growing, and he was getting very tempted to go over and pull you back beside him and keep you there.

Your back was turned to him as you were facing the kitchen counter. You felt his presence near you but decided not to look at him and continued making your light sandwich.

He walks over to you and speaks in a slightly irritated tone, forcing it, as a part of him wanted to just wrap his arms around you and pull you close. "What's the issue? Why are you avoiding me?"

You don't look at him.

"Oh for the sake of-" he grabs your arm and turns you to face him. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

As if he doesn't know. The heights of this man.

To his relief, you finally look up at him and speak in a low tone, "I don't want to talk to you." He leans in pretty much face to face and speaks softly, his words carrying a bit of irritation. "I am starting to get annoyed."

"You're always annoyed. Nothing new." you reply.

A small smile forms on his face as you say this and he sighs as he can't stay serious anymore. The way you argue and complain is almost endearing to him and he cannot help it. His irritation finally gives it's way and his eyes lock on you.

"You are quite perceptive aren't you?" he says trying to hide his smile.

"Yes I am." you say, giving him a challenging look.

He stares at your lips then back at your eyes. "I have other emotions as well, you know that right?"

"Hmm…doesn't look like it."

He tries to suppress a small smirk as he speaks. "You think all I'm capable of is being annoyed and angry?"

"Yeah."

His smirk grows as he speaks softly, getting a bit closer. "Guess you are gonna have to see more of my emotions then…"

You slightly gulp as he gets closer but keep your guard. "Which…is probably not possible…"

He chuckles softly, "Who said it's not possible?"

"I did." you say and before he could get even closer, you turn around to face the kitchen counter again. Loki rolls his eyes and grabs your waist and pulls you back as he speaks in a more firm tone now as if he's trying to get his point across.

"You can't tell me what I'll do or how I feel, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist with other hand and pulls your body more tightly into his as he pushes his chest into yours.

"Yeah, but I can guess…" You say looking at him but regretting it a second later when you notice how close his face is, making your heart beat faster.

Meanwhile Loki cannot deny that you have a point. He starts to get flustered as he notices you breathing heavily and that you both are in an intimate stance that he cannot ignore. He looks at you with longing eyes and you can see that his body language was getting quite comfortable with yours. You look at his lips then shyly look away, rolling your eyes a bit to show you're still in the argument.

Getting frustrated with your avoidance, he does the only thing he knows how to do that might provoke a reaction from you: he grabs your jaw and turns your face to him, pulling you close. He leans close so that his lips are just a few inches away from you. He breaths softly on your face and looks at your lips before speaking in a soft and quiet tone."If you are avoiding me because you want me, then it's working."

Staring at him a bit surprised he figured you out, you say nothing.

Still holding you tight he leans even closer, his eyes now fixed on your lips as he speaks in a silky voice. "You are not gonna avoid me forever. I'm not going to let you..." He finally gives in and kisses you softly on the lips, his one hand keeping you tightly against him.

You both continue making out passionately against the kitchen counter.

After a few seconds he pulls away, looking at your face and stroking your flicks out of your face. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it was just watching you walk away like that and not being able to say I want you so badly? Your body language and how close you get to me sometimes....the way you're avoiding me, all it does is make me yearn to have you more. How can you think that's gonna make me ignore you? Your beauty is so exquisite and you think I don't care about that?"

"You-" you try to think of another complaint against him but his words get to you and a blush forms on your cheeks. The way you're blushing make it really difficult for him to stay infuriated.

"Do you have any idea what it does to me when you act this way? You are driving me crazy by making me want you more than ever. It makes me want to do all sorts of things to you." He says, not even believing himself he is confessing this. He pauses as he bites his lip, not sure he can resist his strong desire to grab you and take it to the next level.

"A-all sorts of things…?" you look up at him blushing.

So all this time this man was hiding these feelings? What an actor.

"All sorts of things. You don't even want to know what I would do to you if I were your boyfriend." You felt your heart coming out of your chest with this one. You look down shyly, not knowing how to reply to him anymore as you've been proven wrong that he doesn't care about you.

"Look at me. Tell me right now that you don't feel the same way. Tell me you don't want me to touch you and I'll stop." You look up at him and your eyes give him the obvious answer.

Face flushed with your admittance, he speaks softly as he stares into your eyes, "That's it, that's all I needed." He give your waist a squeeze and speaks, "Now let me show you just how much I wanted you all this time…"

He holds you by your waist tight as he leans in and begins making out with you passionately, he doesn't hold back or show you any restraint, his hands stay on your waist and he only pulls you tighter to his body.

There is a mix of dominance and passion in the way he makes out with you and he only continues to grow more passionate with each second.

As you're making out he slowly turns you so you're facing the couch behind you. He continues making out with you as he slowly bends down a bit and picks you up so that he's holding you in his arms. He's still holding you by the waist while he slowly starts walking towards the couch, still making out with you passionately.

He puts his hands beneath your skirt and squeezes your ass before setting you on the couch. Holding him by the shirt, you pull him onto you as you groan into the kiss. He puts his hand under your skirt and pulls down your delicate panties, his tongue still entwined with yours.

He retreats from your lips, planting tender, lustful kisses around your cheeks, jaw and earlobe. Your fingers stray across his smooth shirt, brushing across his firm chest. His erection was palpable through his pants, he leans in to get between your legs, on your pubic mound.

You squeal as he puts his lips around your earlobe and gives it a tiny bite.

"Admit it," he murmurs while reaching down to have his time with your neck.

"W…what…" you say in a voice filled with ecstasy.

"Admit that you wanted me all this time too, and I wasn't imagining it." He says this, and you feel the tip of his tongue roaming up your neck.

"L-loki," you moan, clutching his shirt tightly.

"Norns… just admit it." He says it loudly, and his teeth nip at your skin, and you squirm.

"I…I admit I wanted you…" You bite your lip.

Gosh, you wanted him in already.

"Loki…"

"Patience, sweetheart." He whispers while taking his time to take off your top and pulling up your bra to expose your hardened nipples. He takes one of your nipples in between his teeth and lightly pulls at it, making you whimper. He gives your nipple a lick before leaning down and lifting your legs, along with your skirt, to fully reveal your clit to him.

"So...pretty..." he remarks, removing his share of clothes while keeping his gaze fixed on your hole.

You become even more excited to have him inside you as he shows you his erection. You had no idea when your hand reached down and into his silky hair as he leaned down to kiss your clit while holding your thighs firmly in place. He kisses your hole, teasing it, teasing it so much that it made you a needy, moaning mess.

"Loki…please…" you almost beg. He pulls away and looks at you.

"Ready for me already, love?" You nod, and he cups your face and places a kiss on your lips for a second, then pulls away to take hold of his massive cock and slowly enter your hole.

You whimper and look at his face, then his bare shoulders, and hold your hands out to hold on to him, but instead he grabs both of your hands and pins them down on the couch.

"Stay still. No touching." You let out a whine and he buries his cock further inside you as if shutting you up. He moves his hips against your body at a steady pace, occasionally leaning down to kiss your lips or bite your neck. He was increasing his speed randomly and then slowing down, torturing your sweet cunt.

"I almost feel sorry for you…" he says, grabbing hold of one of your breasts and kissing your cheeks while his cock thrashes against your pussy.

"Ahh…mm…" You moan, and his hand squeezes your breast.

He was now moving his body almost brutally fast, and you can feel yourself drawing nearer. He gives you a sidelong glance while grinning.

"You want to come, darling?" You avert your gaze to him, open your eyes, and hum in agreement.

"Come darling…come over my cock…" he growls the last part while slamming his balls near your asshole.

"Ahh…fuck…Loki!" You yelled feeling his juices pouring inside you.

Gritting his teeth, he leaned on your body, letting go of your wrists and breathing heavily, your chests touching and you could feel his weight on you.

He inhales sharply and glances at you and your physique, admiring your form. You continue to breathe heavily while beaming at him.

"Now you will know what things I would do to you now that I am your boyfriend." He says as he stoops down to kiss your cheek.

Taglist in the comments because tumblr is acting buggy again

Want to be part of my taglist? Dm, comment or click this!

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eleniblue · 1 day

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Pleasing Mr. President

Pleasing Mr. President - A Loki One Shot, Part of Loki's Library Discord Server's "Loki Series Branched Timeline Challenge"

(PRESIDENT LOKI X READER)

You didn't expect to survive when you entered the Void. But President Loki found you, he was impressed with how long you managed to live in this wasteland by yourself, and he let you join his group. When President Loki's group invades and takes over the safety bunker in the Void, it is the first time that any of you have felt safety. And to celebrate, you and Loki decide to participate in some pleasurable activities - on his new throne with an audience watching, of course.

Word Count: 2759

Loki Series Branched Timeline Challenge

Master List

NSFW, SMUT, DOMINANT LOKI, PRESIDENT LOKI, PUBLIC SEX

The hidden bunker in the Void was not exactly what you expected.

Well, sort of. It was ruled by a child. A child Loki. Of course it would be a chaotic mess. That wasn’t the surprising part. What was surprising was how...quiet it was.

When you appeared in the Void after getting pruned, you woke up alone, cold, and scared - cliche, was your first thought. There was a billowing cloud of imminent doom swirling over you, so you ran. You ran and hid and survived. Somehow.

That was when you found Loki.

He called himself President Loki - adorned in short, elegant, golden horns, a torn up suit, and a pristine little button that promoted his presidential campaign - were those a thing here? He was beautiful, but above that, he was arrogant and cocky, radiating the aura of a political mastermind.

“You’re alive. How long have you been alive?” he had asked you with a tilt of his head.

“A while.” It wasn’t a lie. It was true. You just didn’t know how true. Did an hour pass? A day? A month? Similar to the TVA, it seemed time worked differently around here. That had earned a shrug from Loki.

“You’re a survivor. I take care of survivors. Most of the time. Come with me.”

( CONTINUE READING HERE )

Fic requests are CLOSED! Be sure to check out my AO3 for more Tom Hiddleston and Loki angst, drama, fluff, romance, and smut!

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Loki + tumblr [167/?]

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FREYJA, part 18 💙

Turns out Thor was right: Loki really kidnapped Don at the beginning. This is what Freyja is seeing in the Room of Desires: a glimpse of the past. But, not everything is like it seems to be. Yes, Loki was just an evil Queen at the beginning of this story: but we’ll soon find out she regrets forever these words, “who said I want them (your respect and love)?”. Yes she’s gonna regret it, later… right now she doesn’t know what love is.

BEGINNING/PREV/NEXT

Read it ahead on my patreon or find it on webtoon!

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eleniblue · 2 days

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hiii :)

I saw you’re taking fluff requests at the moment so here I am😍

More or less this scenario was ghosting around in my dreams yesterday;

The reader's a very silent, calm person, not really talking much and always leaving parties or gatherings early. Loki is somehow intrigued by her mysterious nature but when he started trying to get closer to her, she just thought he was kidding (she thought of herself as boring and weird). One day Loki found out the real reason for her former 'aversion' and set up a romantic dinner or something to convince her of the authenticity of his feelings…❣️

If it’s something you would want to work with I would be so happy. Thank you so much!!! :)

So, I am a naturally loud and assertive person, and I think nearly all of my Reader characters have reflected this, so this will be different for me to write, but great practice! Hope this finds you and makes your day, anon!

“The God and the Wallflower”

Summary: After a lifetime of being the unassuming background player, you don’t understand why the most interesting being you know is fascinated by you.

Pairing: Loki x Shy!Reader Content Warning: descriptions of verbal/emotional bullying (although this WILL be fluff so nothing too intense) Word Count: 1.5K (sorry, this became a little longer than a drabble)

Always against the wall at the party. Always in the shadows outside. Always the ensemble player in the musical. Now, you were the secretary in a sea of superheroes.

As a girl with a gifted twin sister, you grew up essentially looking out for your own needs. Your parents, the desperate social-climbers they were, lavished attention, praise, and extras on your twin, who got straight-As in school, led the color guard to their first national championships, and got a full-ride to Columbia U, all while you couldn’t even make editor of the school paper because the advisor forgot you’d even signed up. Your twin was also a beauty, somehow, she’d gotten the bright redheaded gene that made her stand out even more in the family. You just had your plain, frizzy, brown hair that often got dry. Your sister was a thin, graceful, interesting lady. You were much more of a dumpy, lumpy, faceless being.

Of course, this meant in school you got the comparisons from teachers and the taunting from bullies about how there was no way you weren’t adopted. You became an adult with your only superpower being your resourcefulness, but that could only get you a nice job as opposed to what you really wanted: friendship, companionship, maybe even a romance. Not a single person of any gender cared to look your way. Not because you were ugly (you weren’t), but because your natural ability to blend in rendered you invisible, so you chose not to fight it, and instead resign yourself to your lot.

You did pull off one amazing feat that your perfect sister never could, however: Tony Stark hired you to be his second-shift personal assistant at the Avenger’s compound in Dutchess County, NY. He was the type of guy who needed so much help that he needed a right hand for every hour of the day. Because of your natural resourcefulness and quick mind, he appreciated your ability to introduce him to everyone at a part whom he vaguely remembered but couldn’t quite put a name to. He also almost immediately admitted that he’d liked you because you didn’t seem “the type to get in the way.”

Tonight, however, was a victory celebration, and while celebrities and Avengers mingled, you weren’t of much use. So, you took your usual position along the far wall and people-watched until the earliest possible time you could go home.

Watching the Avengers mingle could be entertaining on its’ own. Steve, of course, was a hit with the ladies. Bruce and Natasha tended to work the crowds as a unit. Whenever Clint could get away from his family, he’d usually be cracking jokes with Thor somewhere in the middle of the room. Wanda and Vision usually stayed close as a couple, and like you, they were more of the wallflower type…but at least they had each other.

You looked at your watch nervously, hoping that it was midnight, when Stark would allow you to head home. Drat! It was only 9:41.

“You look like a woman with a lot of stories.”

Startled, you gasped lightly and turned your head to your left, where someone had joined you against the wall.

Thor’s shady brother Loki was the one who had initiated the conversation. You hadn’t seen that much of him since your hiring. He was one who preferred keeping to himself in the library, or sometimes drinking with his brother after most of the others were gone or asleep.

He unsettled you a little, and not because of his trickery or history with trying to conquer cities. He always walked through a room like a knife through butter, quick, confident, knowing where he was going. Although, his confident stride, along with his long block curls and devilish grin, kind of made him attractive to you. Sometimes you found yourself looking at him with interest in crowded situations where you could disguise your gazes as something else. But Loki was (technically) an Avenger, and thus, he could have his pick of any of the beauties (or studs) in the room. No matter how you felt about him, he was leagues above you, and really should have been on the arm of a model or actor or politician’s child.

So why was he here talking to the sentient cardboard cutout who’d never said a word directly to anyone in the room who wasn’t Stark?

You shook your head silently. No, not here, you thought. Would someone really stoop to mocking me here?

“My intention wasn’t to startle you,” Loki apologized. “But I’ve been keeping an eye on you most of the evening, and I’ve been biding my time, but I’ve been hoping to get acquainted with you for a time now.”

You looked down, embarrassed that you were already beginning to feel tears forming. “Please, don’t.”

Loki looked at you with concern. “What is it, Y/N? I assure you I’m—”

“—I can’t do this tonight,” you blurted out, brushing past Loki and quickly leaving the room, leaving the God standing there, confused and hurt.

Loki couldn’t believe how completely he had just struck out. It wasn’t something he was used to, especially when he’d been planning on how to approach you for nearly a week, and deciding that this soiree was the opportune moment.

“Ooof, bad idea, Vixen,” said Tony, sliding over to Loki, still dumbfounded and hurt at the rejection.

“I barely said ten words, and she wouldn’t—”

“—there’s a few things you should know about her,” Stark explained. “She’s extremely shy.”

“Why is that? She’s beautiful,” Loki said quietly.

“She grew up with a sister who was great at everything and always got the attention. I hired her because she’s got incredible self-reliance, so I barely have to explain anything to her. She never quite lived up to the bar her twin set, and when she felt short, she was usually shut out for it. When I hired her, she actually asked me if I was feeling okay.”

Well, if anyone understands what it’s like to live in the shadow of a better sibling, it’s me, Loki thought as he bit his lip. “I was too forward, then.”

“Big time, Bambi.”

He sighed. “Well, what do you recommend?”

Tony shrugged. “Getting someone like her to believe she’s special enough isn’t going to be easy, but it may be the only way to convince someone that stubborn.”

Loki smiled. “Not to worry, I already have something in mind.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

The following evening, Tony unexpectedly relieved you of duty a few hours early, saying he wanted to have a date night with Pepper. “But,” he added, “before you do, could you go out to the roof and check for a file I may have dropped the other day?”

You snorted. “Why did you have a personal file on the roof?” you asked softly. “You always tell me they don’t leave the basement.”

“Because…well…” Tony stumbled over his words for a second. “Just…go to the roof for five minutes before you leave, okay? Damn this sappy shit…” he mumbled under his breath, walking away before you could ask more.

Groaning, you obeyed and made your way up the floors, opening the door to the roof and not expecting to find a table set for two, tea lights strung up all over, a record player emitting soft, gentle, romantic music, and Loki standing awkwardly by the table.

“Oh my…” you felt a pang of nausea in your gut, and you instantly went to turn around.

“No, please, Y/N!” Loki called after you. “I’m in earnest!”

You stopped and shook your head. “There’s no way.”

Loki walked toward you, holding out a hand. “I set this up for you, and I don’t go to such trouble for people I deem less than worthy of my attention.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “You have me all wrong. I’m really nothing.”

“Stark said you’ve been through things, that you’re used to keeping quiet because that’s what everyone expects of you,” he said. “Y/N, the same thing happened to me. Do you not remember who my brother is?”

You found the courage to look Loki in the eye for the first time. “I don’t understand. Why me? I’m the most plain, boring, unassuming—”

Loki shook his head and dared to take your hand, bringing it to his lips and laying a gentle kiss on it. “May I ask you something? Do you think me someone who wastes their time with common people?”

You shrugged silently.

“Well, I don’t. So please, take this as a gesture of my interest,” Loki said, indicating the beautiful set up he’d worked all afternoon to perfect for you. “I want to know your story, and please, leave out no details. I want to savor every chapter of you.”

You still didn’t understand why or how, but looking into Loki’s icy blue eyes and seeing the sincerity in them unlocked your heart, and you decided in that moment to exercise cautious trust, and to give the man access to your soul.

“Well,” you said, finally smiling and letting yourself open up slowly, like a rose bud, “I guess if that’s true, the sooner we start, the better.”

Your heart fluttered when you realized Loki wasn’t dropping your hand as he guided you towards the supper table. For the first time, you felt ready to open up to someone.

Well, here it goes…

------------------------------------

Please keep sending me requests and ideas, friends. I’m enjoying writing these very much!

@lokisgoodgirl @michelleleewise @xorpsbane @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisprettygirl @kellatron55

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eleniblue · 2 days

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Twitter Movies: What does Loki keep in his pockets?

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by HolmesCore

“Mobius was different. He always made time for Loki, sought him out in a crowd of people during a party, asked him to continue talking when someone else interrupted in the middle of his story, sat next to him in the library when he read and most definitely faked reading his own book so that Loki didn’t feel dumb. Nobody ever did that, not for Loki.”

Mobius and Loki go on a nice, calming beach stroll, and Loki gets a much needed hug.

Words: 1340, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Loki (TV 2021)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Mobius M. Mobius

Relationships: Loki/Mobius M. Mobius

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angst, only a little bit though, Fluff and Angst, First Kiss, Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), Loki Has a Crush (Marvel), Mobius also has a crush

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eleniblue · 2 days

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“A Damsel's Debt” A Dark!Loki x Reader Oneshot

One unexpected evening, the Prince of Asgard saves your life. Asgardian tradition dictates that a rescued damsel must pledge her body to her savior from sunset to sunset in gratitude, to be his to serve and obey in tribute for her spared life.

Pairing: Dark!Dom!Loki x F!Sub!Reader Genre: DubCon Smut Word Count: 3.8k CONTENT WARNINGS (18+ ONLY): Reader is attacked & threatened with assault, DubCon, love slave trope, shackles and chains, some knife play, Lusty Loki gets kind of creepy in this one, uneven power dynamics/classism, humiliation, degradation, being bathed, virginity kink/loss, breeding kink for a sec because apparently that's my thing since I got married , this is NOT a love story

“Blessed Norns, protect me, and remind me to never again take a job after sunset!”

The Lower Ring was foggy that night. Even the squares, still dense with night-goers, were limited in visibility. It was a dangerous night for a lone woman to be in the wrong part of Asgard, which, of course, most of the Lower Ring was. Still, you trudged along, attempting to stay within eyesight of at least three different people at a time as you passed, though that was becoming more difficult the further away from the center you went.

While the palace of the Allfather and the Royal Family stood as the shining gilded centerpiece of Asgard, the bustling city below was divided into three rings, each walled off from the other with a few guarded archways to keep the riff raff from intermingling with the merchants or clerics up above.

The riff raff like you, for example.

Granted, you weren’t so poor as to be in constant need. In fact, your business had a small but shining reputation throughout the boroughs. Several months ago, you’d even been summoned to the palace by the King himself to deliver a bag of letters to the military training camp outside the city limits. You’d had the rare opportunity to lay eyes on the beautiful Queen, and the dashing Princes, both studly and in their physical prime. It was an honor you knew you’d carry with you for a long time.

Also, it wasn’t as if your purpose out in the ominous evening was nefarious. You were a courier, a courier of anything at all (as long as no one asked about it). Once in a while, your cargo was questionable, but those packages usually came with the biggest tips. Those tips fed your four little siblings and your incapacitated widowed mother.

Tonight, however, your cargo was innocent: a bag of fruit to be delivered to the home of a sick old man. In spite of the benign purpose of your journey through the winding alleys of Lower Asgard, you felt like you were being followed. It was a feeling that stilled your heart as you quickened your pace.

Soon, your fears began to materialize in the physical plane. You began to see two large shadows moving independently following you from only meters away. Oh Norns, please don't let it be murderers!

Sometimes, you went on a mission dressed as a man. It was safer. Tonight, you chose to forgo the disguise, instead wearing your usual brown dress and black cape, hood up and over your head and pulled low over your brow. You were regretting it the more you realized that you were being targeted.

You called out, holding the bag you carried as if it were a bludgeon. “Whoever you are, leave me alone! I have no money! Only fruit for a dying old man!”

An animal’s growl answered you from a nearby alley as he and two other men began circling you like starving scavengers. “We do not want your money, maid.”

“You know what we want!” hissed another.

The three shadows closed in on you before you could attempt to dash away. You felt a violent pull on your shoulder as the messenger bag was ripped at the strap and thrown over the shoulder of the biggest of the brigands.

Screaming, you tried to duck under their legs, but again, you were slower than their reflexes. You were caught at the shoulders and lifted off of your feet by the tallest of the thieves, easily over seven feet in height and 400lbs. He could shatter you with one well-placed hit, and you knew it.

There was no one around to help, as far as you knew. You were done for.

Weeping and begging for your honor and your life to be spared, the robber holding you carried you quickly into the alley, followed by his companions, where each one took a wrist and pinned you against the wall. Each angrily stomped on your foot, wrenching another painful holler from you as bolts of lightning shot up your legs. They pulled your feet apart, splitting your legs apart by force under your skirt.

Oh no, Freyja, please save me…

You closed your eyes, and though you had no talent for magic, you tried to will yourself to safety somehow.

Instead, you willed a savior into existence.

You could feel one of the three brigands being pulled away from you. Another responded to the anonymous attack by throwing you aside by the arm, sending you hurdling to the floor, where you curled up into a ball defensively as the third pulled a knife and leaned down, pointing it at your ear so you wouldn’t move to escape.

It was too dark to make out who your hero was, only that he possessed green magic. A mage? A cleric? No, not a cleric. The monasteries were in the Upper Ring near the palace.

The lone stranger was able to use his defensive magic to stun his first attacker, throwing him against the wall. Meanwhile, you could feel the assassin’s dagger still at your head, the tip beginning to push down against your flesh.

Punches were thrown, kicks were delivered, and within minutes, three large bodies were piled unconsciously in the corner of the alleyway. You were still trembling in a ball on the ground until you saw black boots slowly saunter up next to your head. Knees bent underneath green pants.

A curious Prince’s gaze met your eyes as he examined you.

“Oh my, what have we here? A silly girl who knew no better than to walk around unescorted after nightfall?” said Loki, the junior Prince, the seidr-caster. He was the slick god known for his love of power, gold, and sex with only the most handsome bodies and faces he could collect. You were suddenly aware of his heaving muscles, stressed after the exercise of dispatching your attackers, showing off his superior strength.

“My Pr…my Prince,” you stuttered, still shaking like a snake’s tail, hot tears nearly blinding you to the point where you could barely make out Loki beyond his most angular features.

You felt a cool thumb caress your cheek. “Now, now, fretting like a babe won’t do. Let’s get you back to the palace and clean you up before we begin.”

We begin?

Loki helped you to your feet, circling you once to look for signs of incapacitation (thankfully, it felt as if there were none to you). You kept your head down and knees bent in respect for both of your castes. Technically, you weren’t even allowed to make eye contact unless so bidden.

He must have been patrolling the Lower Ring (though did Princes follow guard duty?), for he had a horse. “Can you mount on your own?” he asked, his voice almost inaudible, yet still holding so much power.

You were undeniably sore, but otherwise not injured. “Yes, my Lord.” You demonstrated by awkwardly climbing into the enormous black horse’s saddle.

“Good, yes, very good,” Loki said with pleasure, swiftly mounting in front of you to carry you back to the palace, leaving behind the fruit, the brigands, and any chance of returning home that night.

Loki brought you directly to his chambers and locked the door, only opening it briefly for a broad, muscular servant to be admitted. The servant was nowhere near as handsome as the Prince, but he was fair and well-formed. His teeth sparkled. He was a perfect specimen, making you wonder if perhaps he was a part of the palace harem.

To your shock, Loki had immediately placed you in the center of his parlor, colored in dark greens, grays, and golds, on a small stool so that you were elevated about a foot higher than Loki’s head.

“Take off your dress, girl,” he demanded.

Your eyes widened. “But…Prince? I…what? I’m sorry?” you stuttered, unsure of what to do, of what he meant. Did he mean to complete what the brigands had failed?

He chuckled as he made his way to a large reclining chair, plush and decadent. He sat back and crossed his legs at the knee, tapping his fingers impatiently on the armrest. “Are you so simple, child, as to not be familiar with the royal tradition of the Damsel’s Debt?”

You looked down, ashamed. “Not simple, my Prince. I’ve only seen the inside of the palace once.”

“Yes, and I recall that day quite well myself,” Loki responded. “How…amusing that you find yourself here only weeks later.” His tone mocked you with a hint of darkness, of something more sinister underneath his Princely skin. “I shall explain while you obey me. Undress. Now.”

He was, after all, the Prince. Denying his whim would be death. You unsnapped your cloak and let it tumble to the floor beneath you. Loki nodded his modest approval. While you continued to disrobe, he rewarded you with an explanation. “The Damsel’s Debt is an eons-old ceremony of sorts. If a Royal rescues a creature who pleases him, they are beholden to their savior’s will from sunset to sunset.”

Your jaw dropped; your skin ran cold. “I am in your debt most certainly, my Lord,” you agreed with hesitation.

“Indeed, you are,” he affirmed. “And you are all mine tonight, as my rightful reward for risking my royal neck to save your worthless one.”

The insult stung, but then again, Loki’s demeanor made it almost sound like a term of endearment. The more you spent in his presence, the darker he became. Truly, Thor was the Prince of Light, while this insatiable brother ruled the shadows and eclipses. Loki indulged in the temptations of the night quite often, and it made him a hungry, impatient being.

“So, I am your slave,” you summarized, finally untying your bodice strings and letting your dress peel off of your body, leaving you in only a corset and shift. He held up a hand as you made a maneuver to remove the stay. Standing up, Loki reached into his back pocket and extracted a knife.

“You are my slut, and I like to do this part,” he insisted, bringing the blade up to your cleavage, letting it linger as the cool tip dragged ever so lightly across your breast. “You belong to me until sunset tomorrow, to bless or burden as I please.”

Loki tucked the blade under the lacing at the bottom of the corset, and in one graceful flick, sliced the entire thing open, ripping it off your chest and throwing it aside, leaving only the see-through shift.

“If you don’t fight me, if you do as I command, I will bless you. If you refuse me, I will burden you.”

Loki stood back to take a deeper look at you. “A virgin, I see. I was hoping for as much.”

You shivered, feeling vulnerable under his intense blue gaze. “How can you tell?”

He looked at you, eyebrow raised, before letting out a hearty chortle at your ignorance. “Your posture betrays your treasure. You’re folded up like you hide a precious secret between your legs. Well, maid, it is time to pay your tax.”

He ran a finger up and down your arm. “But worry not, for as I said, if you allow me to exercise myself on you, you shall be rich for the rest of your days.”

You had no choice. Yet, were there an escape, would you take it? Riches! Not only riches, but your curiosity would remain unsatisfied. Yes, you’d never known the intimate touches of another, but it didn’t keep you from imagining the sensations for yourself. Who better than to surrender your maidenhead to the very Prince of Asgard? Would it not be a badge of honor in and of itself to say that Loki Odinson was the first to claim you from the inside?

“Alas, you need to bathe,” he said. “After all, you're still a peasant. I cannot have my sheets dirtied by a serf’s smell.”

Loki took you, as well as the handsome servant, into his bathing room, as large as the front parlor. It was illuminated in green flame candles, with a large tub built into the floor in the center. The tub was filled with steaming water and piles of soap bubbles (it was a strange sight for you, as you’d never seen a bath with such foam before).

The servant stripped as Loki quickly tore the shift off of you, and immersed himself into the bath. “Go in with him” Loki commanded you, indicating the tub with a finger. “Let him clean you.”

As you slowly waded in, Loki stood over the tub. He resembled a giant now from the skewed angle you saw him.

“Begin.”

The servant had clear experience bathing others, for his nimble, skilled hands made steadfast work. They scrubbed the dirt caked on your skin, and raked slippery, scented oils through your hair until you felt lightheaded.

“Harder, and massage her tits with pumice,” demanded the Prince. “I want her skin as soft as goose down.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The Prince’s appetite was triggered when the servant began massaging your belly with soap. “I should make you eat his cock while I impale your ass on mine, but let’s not get to the entree before we’ve even tasted the appetizer,” Loki mused, the idea itself beginning to make him hard.

To your surprise, Loki did not take your body in there. He only studied the servant as the pads of his fingers left no inch of you untouched, unwashed. The Prince’s blue eyes pierced you like the tip of his blade. He licked his lips as you squirmed every time the careless bather tickled you. The involuntary giggling made Loki shift in his seat.

After you were bathed and dried, Loki turned to give the handsome servant another order. “Get the shackles, the gold ones. They’ll flatter her coloring more than the platinum.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

He casually grabbed a soaked tendril of hair and snapped his finger, instantly drying every inch of you, leaving not a single sud to cover your private parts.

Loki circled you again. “Yes, yes…” he thought to himself, as if plotting your fate without your consent. “I can’t watch to stretch your unopened cunt so wide. Norns help me, I’ll probably rip you clear in half if I cannot control myself.”

He leaned down to your ear, flicking the lobe tantalizingly with his tongue before saying, “And your body is making it very hard…” he paused, “...for me to control myself.”

The servant returned with a large wooden box. Loki wiggled his fingers as if preparing to play a piano before gently opening the lid and extracting a large mass of tangled gold chains and cuffs. He turned to you and held them up in front of your face. “Yes, splendid. Now, girl, go bend over that table. Magnus, you may leave us.”

He indicated a small side table over by a black fainting sofa. You walked over slowly, leaning over the tiny tabletop and sticking your buttock out. You squinted, expecting a slap on either one, but instead, you felt two cool hands pull out your wrists and lay heavy metallic bracelets connected by a chain over them. He twisted his fingers, locking them.

Then, walking behind you, he gently took your hair and brushed it to the side, giving him ample space to bring the neck cuff over your head. He leaned into your back as he reached over your shoulders, firmly clasping the collar around your throat. It was tight, but lined with a fine fur inside that made them a little easier to wear.

Each side of the neck collar had a chain. Loki took one in each hand and suddenly pulled back, yanking your head straight up. You bucked like a horse as he pulled on your reigns too hard. Bringing both chains to one fist, he took his free hand, placing his fingers gently over your lips to quiet you as you began to moan.

“I was going to gag you, but that little mouth is too pretty to stifle, or to stuff with anything but my shaft. Waste not, my plaything, waste not…”

He took your chains and pulled you to a standing position, where he led you like a dog on a leash over to the bedroom. Once at the bed, he shoved you onto the mattress and made quick work of you, tying your chain to each of the headboard posts before raising your wrists over your head and tying those off as well.

“Now, my little woman,” he muttered, his voice low and dominating, “Be ready to see stars.”

Impatient and not wanting to dangle you in front of himself for too long, Loki snapped his fingers, dissolving his clothes. As you expected, when his dick sprang out for you to see, you whimpered at the size, thinking how he very well could have been truthful about splitting your belly in half.

Taking himself in hand, Loki took full control of you as he slowly pushed his cock past your entrance and up inside you. The pain was less than you expected, for you’d begun to drip with wet arousal as Loki played with you. You did gasp at the brief, sharp pinch you felt, but it quickly dulled away as your pleasure hormones intoxicated you to anything other than how it felt to be fucked.

Your breasts bounced with every pound from your master’s hips. When he noticed, Loki grabbed each one in a hand, squeezing them so hard it made tears come to your eyes.“These are so big, oh, a pity your station is so low, you could be a wet nurse for my mother’s ladies’ babes, or Thor’s…or mine…oh!”

Loki was monologuing more to himself than you as he pounded into you harder, alternating between squeezing your breasts in his palms and reaching between your lips to twist your clit between his fingers until you bucked against him. “Peasant women always have the best bodies to breed. So strong and sturdy…”

His thrusts became faster and more frantic as he approached his fall. “You were broken by a future King tonight, little Miss, now thank me.”

“Oh my Prince, thank you for--”

“--FUCKING you! Thank me for fucking some experience into you! SO that when you go back to your taverns and hay barns for a rolling, you can tell those meager boys that a god has already painted your cunt with his seed. That you were only pristine and pure for ME! That my fat cock turned you into a desperate, needy whore!”

“Prince, my Lord, tha-ah-AH!”

He rolled his hips and slid up further inside before almost pulling out entirely. Alas, he slipped back inside you with enough verve to send sparks before your eyes.

“Submit to me…submit…worship me…drink in my might and shout his name that marks you!”

You felt him pull your head up by the collar, and the act of force brought you to your edge. “MY PRINCE!”

“My name, damn you!” He grunted in quick frustration, stilling his hip as you teetered on the brink of orgasm for too, too long. “Say my name!” he ordered, near shouting.

“Aaaaaahhhhh Lokkiiiiii---”

You came as he rewarded your scream with a heavy thrust. Keeping himself in you up to the hilt, Loki felt your canal pulse and throb against his dick as your hips quivered. You allowed a long, loud, high-pitched moan to roll from your lungs and proclaim your shameful pleasure to the room. Hearing your cries coaxed Loki’s seed from him, and with four painfully strong bucks, he filled you until his cum spilled onto the sheets.

Your master rode the waves of pleasure until he was spent, after which he stood up and observed you for a moment, splayed out before him, a ruined woman.

You were grinning like a drunk, lolling your head from side to side as the sex hormones flooded your senses. Loki snickered. “Pathetic, in the most delightful way.”

He crawled into bed beside you. “Alas, I’m exhausted, and we still have daylight to look to complete the repayment of your debt to me. I could parade you naked through my father’s courtroom. I could force you under my breakfast table and have you drink from my cock while anyone can watch. I could keep you tied to my bed like a prisoner, and interrogate you with my hands and tongue until you give. I could do them all to you. Perhaps I will.”

You were surprised when he turned out the light, seriously indicating that he wished to go to sleep.

“My chains, Sire!”

Loki rolled over and admired you, still shackled and bound loosely to the bed. “Oh, what lovely tableau lies next to me! Here, you may have your wrists and arms back," he quickly used his magic to make your hand shackles dissipate. "As for the collar, it stays on. After all, I never said I would undo you.”

It was too late. You were undone.

You were still asleep at sunrise, but Loki was rudely jolted awake by a knock on his front door, beyond the parlor. Getting up and wrapping a green satin robe about his naked body, he sped to the door, careful not to wake you. You would need your energy for breakfast, after all. It was worth it to allow you another few hours of genuine, luxurious sleep in his bedsheets.

Tonight, a peasant girl slept better than all the princesses in the Realm, he thought, taking pride in his sexual prowess and ability to bring a maiden to climax.

Upon opening the door, Loki was greeted by three large, familiar brigands, all standing at attention, their hands cupped in front of them politely.

“We haven’t gotten our fee yet, Highness,” said the leader, the one who’d first approached you. “For the set up with her.” He pointed over Loki’s shoulder in the general direction of the bedroom.

"And we want extra. It hurts when you hit us!" said one of the others.

Loki growled impatiently. “Visit the treasury on the way out, and I distinctly said NEVER to come here!”

“Oh, sorry, Your Highness,” the leader said, hanging his head.

“Next time I’ll dock it from your fees, bloody imbeciles!” the Prince scowled before angrily shutting the door in their faces,

Loki walked back toward the bed, but stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, just to look at you from afar and admire how you looked, even chained (especially chained!). It was truly an annoyance that he had to sneak and lurk about with spies and disguises in the Lower Ring after setting eyes on you, the gorgeous courier from weeks ago, a forbidden trifle he could not openly sink his teeth into. Hiring thugs to make you in need of Loki’s rescue was surely an idea from the fairytale books, but it was a tried and true way of getting what he wanted.

And Prince Loki always got what he wanted.

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