tannertan36
Cosmic Funnies
Mike Driver
Sweet Seals For You, Always
titsay
Sade Olutola
oozey mess
wallacepolsom
ojovivo
The Bowery Presents
we're not kids anymore.
#extradirty
almost home
Show & Tell
art blog(derogatory)
NASA
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
YOU ARE THE REASON
Fai_Ryy
The Stonewall Inn
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Japan
seen from Germany
@lokis-coconut28
Masterlist
Loki
Sports Bra
A Green & Gold Sundae
Unbound (Ongoing..) Chapter 1 - The Keeper's Bond
playing dress up with the goblin king
Love this 🖤
Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave 🔮🦉✨ Happy Halloween!
And while I was drawing the commission, I came up with another fanart. As a remark, I'll leave this wonderful dialogue here; basically, that's all you need to know about Jareth.
Jareth: Oh and Hoggle! If she ever kisses you, I'll turn you into a prince!
Hoggle: You will?
Jareth: Prince of the bog of eternal stench!
Obsessssssssed 🖤
I'll leave my love between the stars
Commission
This is amazing!
Here's to you!
Aww thank you! Right back at you! I hope all is well! 🖤
Slight writing hiatus bc life? Yes. Love for Loki gone? Of course not. 🖤
Here’s a little sneak peek at my Loki tattoo! 💚
I hope you all are enjoying the start of summer! I’ll post the full tattoo (and maybe a new fic?) so soon!
Xoxo
Unbound - Chapter 1: The Keeper's Bond
(Loki x Magic Female Reader)
(A/N) : Hi my lovelies! Apologies for my absence, I appreciate your patience with me...
*The last month has been particularly challenging. I continue to recover from surgery, I turned a year older, and I ended a near decade long relationship. As I continue navigating these emotions, I find comfort here, among you all, my friends 💚*
(I am hesitant to post this fic, it has lived in my drafts for quite some time. As a new writer, I'm scared to take on a multi-chapter fic! But - I hope that you enjoy where I'm going with it!) (It's not as elegantly written as I'd like, but indulge me...) & I am happy to be back! You all inspire me so much!
I appreciate your support and comfort now more than ever. Please have grace with any errors - I forgot how to write amidst the chaos and heartbreak...
Please feel free to drop me a message about anything/a pic of Loki or David Bowie (I'm currently chokeheld by Jareth)
Summary: Loki has been watching over you from his new throne... With his feelings on the line, he makes a bold decision to bond to your mind.
Word Count : 2.5k
Warnings: Slight touch of NSFW/Voyeurism in Ch 1
Happy Reading my Loves! 🖤
A throne, buried in the infinite void of space and time, was not what Loki had expected for his life’s purpose. Never truly wanting the throne, yet in a twist of fate, finding himself tethered to it for eternity, was an irony that laughed at him in an endless echo throughout the multiverses.
Exploring realities in the palms of his hands was a delicate craft. The responsibility, accepting the intricacies of overseeing an incalculable amount of timelines without interference or interjection was no small task. Observation had become a makeshift game to Loki, honing in on a multitude of lifeforms, seeking out what connection he could from afar, cherishing emotions of plenty in the vast cosmos which thrummed through his hands.
A new desolate reality, ever flowing, impalpable, washed through Loki. A sobering wave crashed into him over and over again, reminding him that this was life now.
In the darkest of hours, he allowed his head to lower and rest, obsidian horns digging deep into his temples, a torment unlike any Loki had endured before. Despite the stillness around him, an unrelenting gravitational pressure crawled around his head, eerily creeping into a chokehold around his neck. A force strong enough to extract tears from a god.
The weight of the crown had proven to be heavy, in more ways than one.
The pull of the timelines forged on, wrapping serpent-like, circling Loki’s wrists; binding him to the seated throne.
The intensity of holding limitless lives extracted a toll on Loki’s physical form. In secret, he wished he could put the weight down - if only for a moment. Knowing he could not, knowing he was destined to this role for eternity - these thoughts spiraled in his mind, plaguing his thoughts like a broken record with every passing second.
Attempting to shake the burden of eternal responsibility, Loki let his eyes fall shut, concentrating on the only thing that brought the god solace in his isolation. Locating you.
Loki had observed millions of souls in his quest to pass time. Asgardians, Midgardians, creatures from planets and realms that in all of his centuries he had never once discovered. He found comfort in busying himself with watching the lives of beings across the galaxies, across time, into the promise of forever.
Yet, in his observation of the entirety of space and time, Loki had never encountered a living soul quite like yours. There was something particularly special about you, a unique aura standing out as a bright star in the atramentous eternal sky. Loki felt an unexplainable pull to your life force - a pulsing chemistry, as though you were two magnets coming together in an unyielding draw.
Curiosity propelled Loki’s focus to you, solely. You were a powerful enchantress, a formidable force to be sure. Intrigue, he decided, was the proper feeling he had for you… at first. It did not go unnoticed, the way you effortlessly wielded your own powers, harmonious with the mysterious magic you possessed. Unlike himself, unlike most everyone in the multiverses, Loki could find no other variants of you. Scanning all of the timelines, he quickly realized you were a one of a kind entity - a rare anomaly that captured the attention of the God of Stories.
Loki shifted in the throne, straining his forearms as he found you within the malachite cordage that resided in his grasp. Using all of his might, he concentrated on your energy, barely able to locate you through a thick veil of unfamiliar magic. Adjusting his grip on the timeline, the veins in his arm thrummed, focusing deeply, eyes finally landing upon your form.
For the first time, he could see your face clearly as you walked alone, your breath puffing into a small cloud of moisture as you exhaled into the cold night. Your hair softly fell around your face, bouncing delicately in tandem with each footstep. The clang of your black leather boots echoed with each hurried stride as you made your way across the damp cobblestone street. Your beauty was so effortless & charming, Loki found it hard to pull his gaze from you. Though out of reach, you were absolutely enchanting.
To be near you - Loki imagined, slowly drawing in deep breath, inhaling at the sudden fluttering that had manifested in his core.
Abruptly, a frigid gust of wind commanded the hair on the back of your neck to raise, causing you to fuss with the herringbone scarf that stylishly looped around your collar. You took a moment to peer up at the night sky as you raised the hood of your coat to rest upon the crown of your head. The dazzling beauty of the stars twinkling above forced you to stop and appreciate the divine display. A brilliant wave of emerald light appeared overhead, dancing elegantly in a private show, eliciting a shy smile from your lips.
Your eyes creased, squinting at a particularly bright star. Your gaze lingered on it with a subconscious level of expectancy.
“I’m not sure I’ve seen you before”, you remarked at the unfamiliar celestial orb, as if it would answer back if you asked it their name.
Loki stilled as you tilted your head in wonderment, imagining you could somehow see him through the vastness of space, somehow sense his presence. He wanted to believe you could.
“Stunning” you whispered quietly, letting out a contented sigh as you continued on your path into the darkness.
As time went on, your voice became a symphony in the silence. Your expressions became their own motion pictures that played in an endless loop within Loki’s mind. Watching you cast your spells as deliberately and cautiously as a painter stroking a canvas, Loki never tired of watching you. He admired your skill, your intelligence, as you worked with magic that was foreign to him. Somehow, these stolen glances and sacred moments seemed like a secret kept between the two of you.
Loki let out a disgruntled sigh, reminding himself once more that you did not, and you would not ever know him. He silently cursed, knowing he could never interfere. Yet, perhaps…
It had started as a simple trial, a test spell easily woven and rooted to your mind. A small magical connection tethering his mind to yours. Nothing more than to ensure your protection, to ensure your safety.
The moment that Loki had cast this spell upon you, practicing his illusionary craft became somewhat of a game, hiding himself from your mind, blending in with the shadows of your thoughts.
Ilusion - an art form that Loki had mastered over centuries. Invisibility he found easy, but ignoring the intoxicating pull of the spellbound bond he had formed…This was much more difficult.
He had not intended for the bond to grow so strong. At first, it was a fleeting trick, a slow dancing flame, a soft whisper that lived on the edge of his consciousness. Only a way to ensure your safety, a way to pass time.
Yet each time he sensed your own mind within his, something inside of him tightened, even yearned for you. An undeniable ache that he refused to put a name to.
As months time passed, the bond strengthened greatly. The lie that he told himself - of safety and precaution - seemingly dissolved, transforming into something…more. The sense of nobility, of being your protector from afar, alarmingly shifted to a forbidding feeling. Longing.
The forged connection had become an addiction. Each night, Loki would find himself utterly intoxicated in your mind; voyeuristically watching you in your realm. Inhaling a breath of your conciousness and warmth. He let his eyes flutter shut, mesmerised by the comfort of your dreams. He would allow the sensation - of your joy and laughter - to quell a pain deeply buried inside of him.
While the burdened promise of protecting the timelines echoed throughout his mind, his focus was no longer entirely occupied by the task at hand - by the mission of being on the throne - but by you. Stolen glances into your reality, physical proximity cradled if only by illusion in his dreams and waking fantasies, lit a wick in his core - promising an explosion in his heart if he did not start to take precautions with his feelings. But... with your presence in front of him, his mind could rest, and he could be at ease.
Loki often found himself wondering what it would feel like to hear your soothing voice call his name. He longed to be seen, not just by anyone—by you. It was a laborious struggle, this mix of euphoria and sorrow - wanting nothing but happiness for you, no matter which timeline you were in… yet.. still, in his quietest moments, he would let himself dream, selfishly wishing it was him you’d say goodnight to, if only just once.
When hope slipped away, time and time again, he would lower his gaze, seeking refuge from the relentless thoughts. But…he knew he would always come back to you.
‘How could I not?’...
This particular night, when the weight of your own day had been laid to rest, Loki sought out your mind in the dark. An intense wave of sensual indulgence erupted through his body as he allowed himself to siphon the sensation of your solitary pleasure. Pleasure. A feeling that had been lost in the spacial abyss for quite some time. He would not turn his gaze upon you, as you allowed yourself to be consumed by self gratification... your most intimate moments. Closing his eyes, as if to give you privacy, he tried to remember how long it had been since he himself had had an intimate moment. He could only imagine the pleasure of being able to truly hold you, gently kissing your lips, moving together in perfect harmony. A passionate embrace, bodies gently entwining in the most sacred of acts, whispering promises of love to you between soft moans.
Love. Love?
Loki suddenly froze, eyes snapping open at the realization of the emotion he had nonverbally named. He slowly straightened his posture against the back of the cold seat, timelines clawing heavily at the lines in his palms. Feeling a heated dagger in his heart, ignoring the way his anatomy had betrayed him having been lost in the forbidden sensation of your reality, he scolded himself for imagining something so real. His throat bobbed as he inhaled a breath of the emptiness surrounding him, immediately reprimanding himself once more for indulging in your pleasure, and crossing the boundary he swore he would not.
Love.
Loki scoffed defensively, bringing himself back to reality. No longer did he get the privilege of feeling love, care, companionship. Sacrifice - a heavier toll than he ever would have imagined. A familiar sadness wrapped around his throat, threatening to extract tears.
The reality was, no matter what realm you were in, no matter what he felt, how much he wished he could speak to you, just once - it was impossible now - given his choice and commitment to guard the timelines, for freedom.
For them. For you.
Loki repeated this mantra to himself, a reminder of his motives, remembering the god he wanted to be.
The chokehold of grief elicited a small sob from the deepest shadows of his soul, in part from the guilt of using his own power to feel companionship, to feel love, under the guise of protection, and in part from the sorrow of never being able to return back to life in the timelines. Never getting a chance to be near you, even if only as a stranger passing by in the bustle of your daily life.
Purpose. A heavier burden than he ever knew to be possible.
On a particularly quiet night, lost in a deep slumber, you dreamt of a distant soul, calling to you in a soft, fleeting whisper. The stranger seemed gentle, but their voice was heavily laced with pain and agony as they cried out to you, calling your name, in a desperate plea to be heard.
You were abruptly jolted awake by a searing burn on your skin, branching through your hands like lightning, leaving a scorching imprint in the flesh of your trembling palms. You inhaled sharply as you inspected the marks that remained.
“Magic.” You whispered, quickly swinging your legs to the side of your bed, sitting upright as you studied the light coursing through your hands.
A power unfamiliar to you, almost alive, flared from the tips of your fingers to your wrist. A bright green rope-like illumination emanated from your upturned palms.
The magic throbbed, as if fueled by someone else’s spark. Your hands ached as the heat ripped through your skin, sinking deeper into your flesh. In the silence of the night, the foreign magic coursed through your veins, the power pulsing in a heartbeat that was not your own.
You willed your own frost-blue glow to spill from your fingertips. Shimmering wisps curled around each digit, delicately twisting around the emerald that had been etched onto your body. Instinctively, you closed your eyes and willed your own strands of magic to reach out to the power that had called to you in your sleep.
Then you sensed him. A stranger's soul, ethereal, almost faint. With forceful intention, you strengthened the bond to his magic. His presence was a distant echo, lingering in the air around you, but veiled in the mist of time and space. The presence was elusive and fleeting, barely detectable in your mind and senses. Persisting, you extended your power, finally reaching the source you had been searching for.
A smoldering silence lingered in the air for a moment. You felt the unmistakable weight of eyes upon you. With a swift motion, you spread your hands, lighting the room, your gaze searching for the shadowed figure watching you.
“I know you’re here,” You cautiously broke silence, your words bouncing off of the walls in the empty room. “Physically or not.”
Another empty moment passed.
“Please, say something…” Your words brushed against the air like a feather, soft and pleading, a hushed request that somehow seemed to carry more weight than any shout ever could.
Rippling through the silence, his voice reached you. Soft, low, coming from nowhere yet surrounding you everywhere at once. Time stood still as a hum so low and delicate found you.
“I... am not supposed to be here..."
“Please, don’t leave...” you pleaded gently, your voice laced with a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to say a word… just stay, if only for a moment.”
The silence was suffocating, thick enough to feel, as if the air itself had frozen in place. It pressed against your ears, louder than any noise, almost deafening in its stillness.
“You don’t understand what this means…”
The voice pressed through the hushed air. Your heart ached at the way his voice cracked with desperation. His emotion was raw, the mix of regret and longing, the weight of the forbidden moments spilling in a tremble from his lips like honey.
“For either of us.”
The room grew colder, yet your blood coursed with a fierce heat through your veins at the intensity of the unspoken warning. Whatever this connection was, you knew it was not meant to exist. But now... it did.
And there was no turning back.
Taggies as requested : @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl
Divider Credit : cafekitsune
Xoxo - L 🖤
Masterlist
My feels and this story is.. poetic cinema.
Poetic cinema is the most beautiful compliment I’ve ever received 🫠
Unbound - Chapter 1: The Keeper's Bond
(Loki x Magic Female Reader)
(A/N) : Hi my lovelies! Apologies for my absence, I appreciate your patience with me...
*The last month has been particularly challenging. I continue to recover from surgery, I turned a year older, and I ended a near decade long relationship. As I continue navigating these emotions, I find comfort here, among you all, my friends 💚*
(I am hesitant to post this fic, it has lived in my drafts for quite some time. As a new writer, I'm scared to take on a multi-chapter fic! But - I hope that you enjoy where I'm going with it!) (It's not as elegantly written as I'd like, but indulge me...) & I am happy to be back! You all inspire me so much!
I appreciate your support and comfort now more than ever. Please have grace with any errors - I forgot how to write amidst the chaos and heartbreak...
Please feel free to drop me a message about anything/a pic of Loki or David Bowie (I'm currently chokeheld by Jareth)
Summary: Loki has been watching over you from his new throne... With his feelings on the line, he makes a bold decision to bond to your mind.
Word Count : 2.5k
Warnings: Slight touch of NSFW/Voyeurism in Ch 1
Happy Reading my Loves! 🖤
A throne, buried in the infinite void of space and time, was not what Loki had expected for his life’s purpose. Never truly wanting the throne, yet in a twist of fate, finding himself tethered to it for eternity, was an irony that laughed at him in an endless echo throughout the multiverses.
Exploring realities in the palms of his hands was a delicate craft. The responsibility, accepting the intricacies of overseeing an incalculable amount of timelines without interference or interjection was no small task. Observation had become a makeshift game to Loki, honing in on a multitude of lifeforms, seeking out what connection he could from afar, cherishing emotions of plenty in the vast cosmos which thrummed through his hands.
A new desolate reality, ever flowing, impalpable, washed through Loki. A sobering wave crashed into him over and over again, reminding him that this was life now.
In the darkest of hours, he allowed his head to lower and rest, obsidian horns digging deep into his temples, a torment unlike any Loki had endured before. Despite the stillness around him, an unrelenting gravitational pressure crawled around his head, eerily creeping into a chokehold around his neck. A force strong enough to extract tears from a god.
The weight of the crown had proven to be heavy, in more ways than one.
The pull of the timelines forged on, wrapping serpent-like, circling Loki’s wrists; binding him to the seated throne.
The intensity of holding limitless lives extracted a toll on Loki’s physical form. In secret, he wished he could put the weight down - if only for a moment. Knowing he could not, knowing he was destined to this role for eternity - these thoughts spiraled in his mind, plaguing his thoughts like a broken record with every passing second.
Attempting to shake the burden of eternal responsibility, Loki let his eyes fall shut, concentrating on the only thing that brought the god solace in his isolation. Locating you.
Loki had observed millions of souls in his quest to pass time. Asgardians, Midgardians, creatures from planets and realms that in all of his centuries he had never once discovered. He found comfort in busying himself with watching the lives of beings across the galaxies, across time, into the promise of forever.
Yet, in his observation of the entirety of space and time, Loki had never encountered a living soul quite like yours. There was something particularly special about you, a unique aura standing out as a bright star in the atramentous eternal sky. Loki felt an unexplainable pull to your life force - a pulsing chemistry, as though you were two magnets coming together in an unyielding draw.
Curiosity propelled Loki’s focus to you, solely. You were a powerful enchantress, a formidable force to be sure. Intrigue, he decided, was the proper feeling he had for you… at first. It did not go unnoticed, the way you effortlessly wielded your own powers, harmonious with the mysterious magic you possessed. Unlike himself, unlike most everyone in the multiverses, Loki could find no other variants of you. Scanning all of the timelines, he quickly realized you were a one of a kind entity - a rare anomaly that captured the attention of the God of Stories.
Loki shifted in the throne, straining his forearms as he found you within the malachite cordage that resided in his grasp. Using all of his might, he concentrated on your energy, barely able to locate you through a thick veil of unfamiliar magic. Adjusting his grip on the timeline, the veins in his arm thrummed, focusing deeply, eyes finally landing upon your form.
For the first time, he could see your face clearly as you walked alone, your breath puffing into a small cloud of moisture as you exhaled into the cold night. Your hair softly fell around your face, bouncing delicately in tandem with each footstep. The clang of your black leather boots echoed with each hurried stride as you made your way across the damp cobblestone street. Your beauty was so effortless & charming, Loki found it hard to pull his gaze from you. Though out of reach, you were absolutely enchanting.
To be near you - Loki imagined, slowly drawing in deep breath, inhaling at the sudden fluttering that had manifested in his core.
Abruptly, a frigid gust of wind commanded the hair on the back of your neck to raise, causing you to fuss with the herringbone scarf that stylishly looped around your collar. You took a moment to peer up at the night sky as you raised the hood of your coat to rest upon the crown of your head. The dazzling beauty of the stars twinkling above forced you to stop and appreciate the divine display. A brilliant wave of emerald light appeared overhead, dancing elegantly in a private show, eliciting a shy smile from your lips.
Your eyes creased, squinting at a particularly bright star. Your gaze lingered on it with a subconscious level of expectancy.
“I’m not sure I’ve seen you before”, you remarked at the unfamiliar celestial orb, as if it would answer back if you asked it their name.
Loki stilled as you tilted your head in wonderment, imagining you could somehow see him through the vastness of space, somehow sense his presence. He wanted to believe you could.
“Stunning” you whispered quietly, letting out a contented sigh as you continued on your path into the darkness.
As time went on, your voice became a symphony in the silence. Your expressions became their own motion pictures that played in an endless loop within Loki’s mind. Watching you cast your spells as deliberately and cautiously as a painter stroking a canvas, Loki never tired of watching you. He admired your skill, your intelligence, as you worked with magic that was foreign to him. Somehow, these stolen glances and sacred moments seemed like a secret kept between the two of you.
Loki let out a disgruntled sigh, reminding himself once more that you did not, and you would not ever know him. He silently cursed, knowing he could never interfere. Yet, perhaps…
It had started as a simple trial, a test spell easily woven and rooted to your mind. A small magical connection tethering his mind to yours. Nothing more than to ensure your protection, to ensure your safety.
The moment that Loki had cast this spell upon you, practicing his illusionary craft became somewhat of a game, hiding himself from your mind, blending in with the shadows of your thoughts.
Ilusion - an art form that Loki had mastered over centuries. Invisibility he found easy, but ignoring the intoxicating pull of the spellbound bond he had formed…This was much more difficult.
He had not intended for the bond to grow so strong. At first, it was a fleeting trick, a slow dancing flame, a soft whisper that lived on the edge of his consciousness. Only a way to ensure your safety, a way to pass time.
Yet each time he sensed your own mind within his, something inside of him tightened, even yearned for you. An undeniable ache that he refused to put a name to.
As months time passed, the bond strengthened greatly. The lie that he told himself - of safety and precaution - seemingly dissolved, transforming into something…more. The sense of nobility, of being your protector from afar, alarmingly shifted to a forbidding feeling. Longing.
The forged connection had become an addiction. Each night, Loki would find himself utterly intoxicated in your mind; voyeuristically watching you in your realm. Inhaling a breath of your conciousness and warmth. He let his eyes flutter shut, mesmerised by the comfort of your dreams. He would allow the sensation - of your joy and laughter - to quell a pain deeply buried inside of him.
While the burdened promise of protecting the timelines echoed throughout his mind, his focus was no longer entirely occupied by the task at hand - by the mission of being on the throne - but by you. Stolen glances into your reality, physical proximity cradled if only by illusion in his dreams and waking fantasies, lit a wick in his core - promising an explosion in his heart if he did not start to take precautions with his feelings. But... with your presence in front of him, his mind could rest, and he could be at ease.
Loki often found himself wondering what it would feel like to hear your soothing voice call his name. He longed to be seen, not just by anyone—by you. It was a laborious struggle, this mix of euphoria and sorrow - wanting nothing but happiness for you, no matter which timeline you were in… yet.. still, in his quietest moments, he would let himself dream, selfishly wishing it was him you’d say goodnight to, if only just once.
When hope slipped away, time and time again, he would lower his gaze, seeking refuge from the relentless thoughts. But…he knew he would always come back to you.
‘How could I not?’...
This particular night, when the weight of your own day had been laid to rest, Loki sought out your mind in the dark. An intense wave of sensual indulgence erupted through his body as he allowed himself to siphon the sensation of your solitary pleasure. Pleasure. A feeling that had been lost in the spacial abyss for quite some time. He would not turn his gaze upon you, as you allowed yourself to be consumed by self gratification... your most intimate moments. Closing his eyes, as if to give you privacy, he tried to remember how long it had been since he himself had had an intimate moment. He could only imagine the pleasure of being able to truly hold you, gently kissing your lips, moving together in perfect harmony. A passionate embrace, bodies gently entwining in the most sacred of acts, whispering promises of love to you between soft moans.
Love. Love?
Loki suddenly froze, eyes snapping open at the realization of the emotion he had nonverbally named. He slowly straightened his posture against the back of the cold seat, timelines clawing heavily at the lines in his palms. Feeling a heated dagger in his heart, ignoring the way his anatomy had betrayed him having been lost in the forbidden sensation of your reality, he scolded himself for imagining something so real. His throat bobbed as he inhaled a breath of the emptiness surrounding him, immediately reprimanding himself once more for indulging in your pleasure, and crossing the boundary he swore he would not.
Love.
Loki scoffed defensively, bringing himself back to reality. No longer did he get the privilege of feeling love, care, companionship. Sacrifice - a heavier toll than he ever would have imagined. A familiar sadness wrapped around his throat, threatening to extract tears.
The reality was, no matter what realm you were in, no matter what he felt, how much he wished he could speak to you, just once - it was impossible now - given his choice and commitment to guard the timelines, for freedom.
For them. For you.
Loki repeated this mantra to himself, a reminder of his motives, remembering the god he wanted to be.
The chokehold of grief elicited a small sob from the deepest shadows of his soul, in part from the guilt of using his own power to feel companionship, to feel love, under the guise of protection, and in part from the sorrow of never being able to return back to life in the timelines. Never getting a chance to be near you, even if only as a stranger passing by in the bustle of your daily life.
Purpose. A heavier burden than he ever knew to be possible.
On a particularly quiet night, lost in a deep slumber, you dreamt of a distant soul, calling to you in a soft, fleeting whisper. The stranger seemed gentle, but their voice was heavily laced with pain and agony as they cried out to you, calling your name, in a desperate plea to be heard.
You were abruptly jolted awake by a searing burn on your skin, branching through your hands like lightning, leaving a scorching imprint in the flesh of your trembling palms. You inhaled sharply as you inspected the marks that remained.
“Magic.” You whispered, quickly swinging your legs to the side of your bed, sitting upright as you studied the light coursing through your hands.
A power unfamiliar to you, almost alive, flared from the tips of your fingers to your wrist. A bright green rope-like illumination emanated from your upturned palms.
The magic throbbed, as if fueled by someone else’s spark. Your hands ached as the heat ripped through your skin, sinking deeper into your flesh. In the silence of the night, the foreign magic coursed through your veins, the power pulsing in a heartbeat that was not your own.
You willed your own frost-blue glow to spill from your fingertips. Shimmering wisps curled around each digit, delicately twisting around the emerald that had been etched onto your body. Instinctively, you closed your eyes and willed your own strands of magic to reach out to the power that had called to you in your sleep.
Then you sensed him. A stranger's soul, ethereal, almost faint. With forceful intention, you strengthened the bond to his magic. His presence was a distant echo, lingering in the air around you, but veiled in the mist of time and space. The presence was elusive and fleeting, barely detectable in your mind and senses. Persisting, you extended your power, finally reaching the source you had been searching for.
A smoldering silence lingered in the air for a moment. You felt the unmistakable weight of eyes upon you. With a swift motion, you spread your hands, lighting the room, your gaze searching for the shadowed figure watching you.
“I know you’re here,” You cautiously broke silence, your words bouncing off of the walls in the empty room. “Physically or not.”
Another empty moment passed.
“Please, say something…” Your words brushed against the air like a feather, soft and pleading, a hushed request that somehow seemed to carry more weight than any shout ever could.
Rippling through the silence, his voice reached you. Soft, low, coming from nowhere yet surrounding you everywhere at once. Time stood still as a hum so low and delicate found you.
“I... am not supposed to be here..."
“Please, don’t leave...” you pleaded gently, your voice laced with a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to say a word… just stay, if only for a moment.”
The silence was suffocating, thick enough to feel, as if the air itself had frozen in place. It pressed against your ears, louder than any noise, almost deafening in its stillness.
“You don’t understand what this means…”
The voice pressed through the hushed air. Your heart ached at the way his voice cracked with desperation. His emotion was raw, the mix of regret and longing, the weight of the forbidden moments spilling in a tremble from his lips like honey.
“For either of us.”
The room grew colder, yet your blood coursed with a fierce heat through your veins at the intensity of the unspoken warning. Whatever this connection was, you knew it was not meant to exist. But now... it did.
And there was no turning back.
Taggies as requested : @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl
Divider Credit : cafekitsune
Xoxo - L 🖤
Masterlist
Aww our sweet lonely touch starved God!!
I just want to wrap him in my arms and tell him he doesn’t have to be alone!
All of us to Loki right now 💚 @soulpiercing
Unbound - Chapter 1: The Keeper's Bond
(Loki x Magic Female Reader)
(A/N) : Hi my lovelies! Apologies for my absence, I appreciate your patience with me...
*The last month has been particularly challenging. I continue to recover from surgery, I turned a year older, and I ended a near decade long relationship. As I continue navigating these emotions, I find comfort here, among you all, my friends 💚*
(I am hesitant to post this fic, it has lived in my drafts for quite some time. As a new writer, I'm scared to take on a multi-chapter fic! But - I hope that you enjoy where I'm going with it!) (It's not as elegantly written as I'd like, but indulge me...) & I am happy to be back! You all inspire me so much!
I appreciate your support and comfort now more than ever. Please have grace with any errors - I forgot how to write amidst the chaos and heartbreak...
Please feel free to drop me a message about anything/a pic of Loki or David Bowie (I'm currently chokeheld by Jareth)
Summary: Loki has been watching over you from his new throne... With his feelings on the line, he makes a bold decision to bond to your mind.
Word Count : 2.5k
Warnings: Slight touch of NSFW/Voyeurism in Ch 1
Happy Reading my Loves! 🖤
A throne, buried in the infinite void of space and time, was not what Loki had expected for his life’s purpose. Never truly wanting the throne, yet in a twist of fate, finding himself tethered to it for eternity, was an irony that laughed at him in an endless echo throughout the multiverses.
Exploring realities in the palms of his hands was a delicate craft. The responsibility, accepting the intricacies of overseeing an incalculable amount of timelines without interference or interjection was no small task. Observation had become a makeshift game to Loki, honing in on a multitude of lifeforms, seeking out what connection he could from afar, cherishing emotions of plenty in the vast cosmos which thrummed through his hands.
A new desolate reality, ever flowing, impalpable, washed through Loki. A sobering wave crashed into him over and over again, reminding him that this was life now.
In the darkest of hours, he allowed his head to lower and rest, obsidian horns digging deep into his temples, a torment unlike any Loki had endured before. Despite the stillness around him, an unrelenting gravitational pressure crawled around his head, eerily creeping into a chokehold around his neck. A force strong enough to extract tears from a god.
The weight of the crown had proven to be heavy, in more ways than one.
The pull of the timelines forged on, wrapping serpent-like, circling Loki’s wrists; binding him to the seated throne.
The intensity of holding limitless lives extracted a toll on Loki’s physical form. In secret, he wished he could put the weight down - if only for a moment. Knowing he could not, knowing he was destined to this role for eternity - these thoughts spiraled in his mind, plaguing his thoughts like a broken record with every passing second.
Attempting to shake the burden of eternal responsibility, Loki let his eyes fall shut, concentrating on the only thing that brought the god solace in his isolation. Locating you.
Loki had observed millions of souls in his quest to pass time. Asgardians, Midgardians, creatures from planets and realms that in all of his centuries he had never once discovered. He found comfort in busying himself with watching the lives of beings across the galaxies, across time, into the promise of forever.
Yet, in his observation of the entirety of space and time, Loki had never encountered a living soul quite like yours. There was something particularly special about you, a unique aura standing out as a bright star in the atramentous eternal sky. Loki felt an unexplainable pull to your life force - a pulsing chemistry, as though you were two magnets coming together in an unyielding draw.
Curiosity propelled Loki’s focus to you, solely. You were a powerful enchantress, a formidable force to be sure. Intrigue, he decided, was the proper feeling he had for you… at first. It did not go unnoticed, the way you effortlessly wielded your own powers, harmonious with the mysterious magic you possessed. Unlike himself, unlike most everyone in the multiverses, Loki could find no other variants of you. Scanning all of the timelines, he quickly realized you were a one of a kind entity - a rare anomaly that captured the attention of the God of Stories.
Loki shifted in the throne, straining his forearms as he found you within the malachite cordage that resided in his grasp. Using all of his might, he concentrated on your energy, barely able to locate you through a thick veil of unfamiliar magic. Adjusting his grip on the timeline, the veins in his arm thrummed, focusing deeply, eyes finally landing upon your form.
For the first time, he could see your face clearly as you walked alone, your breath puffing into a small cloud of moisture as you exhaled into the cold night. Your hair softly fell around your face, bouncing delicately in tandem with each footstep. The clang of your black leather boots echoed with each hurried stride as you made your way across the damp cobblestone street. Your beauty was so effortless & charming, Loki found it hard to pull his gaze from you. Though out of reach, you were absolutely enchanting.
To be near you - Loki imagined, slowly drawing in deep breath, inhaling at the sudden fluttering that had manifested in his core.
Abruptly, a frigid gust of wind commanded the hair on the back of your neck to raise, causing you to fuss with the herringbone scarf that stylishly looped around your collar. You took a moment to peer up at the night sky as you raised the hood of your coat to rest upon the crown of your head. The dazzling beauty of the stars twinkling above forced you to stop and appreciate the divine display. A brilliant wave of emerald light appeared overhead, dancing elegantly in a private show, eliciting a shy smile from your lips.
Your eyes creased, squinting at a particularly bright star. Your gaze lingered on it with a subconscious level of expectancy.
“I’m not sure I’ve seen you before”, you remarked at the unfamiliar celestial orb, as if it would answer back if you asked it their name.
Loki stilled as you tilted your head in wonderment, imagining you could somehow see him through the vastness of space, somehow sense his presence. He wanted to believe you could.
“Stunning” you whispered quietly, letting out a contented sigh as you continued on your path into the darkness.
As time went on, your voice became a symphony in the silence. Your expressions became their own motion pictures that played in an endless loop within Loki’s mind. Watching you cast your spells as deliberately and cautiously as a painter stroking a canvas, Loki never tired of watching you. He admired your skill, your intelligence, as you worked with magic that was foreign to him. Somehow, these stolen glances and sacred moments seemed like a secret kept between the two of you.
Loki let out a disgruntled sigh, reminding himself once more that you did not, and you would not ever know him. He silently cursed, knowing he could never interfere. Yet, perhaps…
It had started as a simple trial, a test spell easily woven and rooted to your mind. A small magical connection tethering his mind to yours. Nothing more than to ensure your protection, to ensure your safety.
The moment that Loki had cast this spell upon you, practicing his illusionary craft became somewhat of a game, hiding himself from your mind, blending in with the shadows of your thoughts.
Ilusion - an art form that Loki had mastered over centuries. Invisibility he found easy, but ignoring the intoxicating pull of the spellbound bond he had formed…This was much more difficult.
He had not intended for the bond to grow so strong. At first, it was a fleeting trick, a slow dancing flame, a soft whisper that lived on the edge of his consciousness. Only a way to ensure your safety, a way to pass time.
Yet each time he sensed your own mind within his, something inside of him tightened, even yearned for you. An undeniable ache that he refused to put a name to.
As months time passed, the bond strengthened greatly. The lie that he told himself - of safety and precaution - seemingly dissolved, transforming into something…more. The sense of nobility, of being your protector from afar, alarmingly shifted to a forbidding feeling. Longing.
The forged connection had become an addiction. Each night, Loki would find himself utterly intoxicated in your mind; voyeuristically watching you in your realm. Inhaling a breath of your conciousness and warmth. He let his eyes flutter shut, mesmerised by the comfort of your dreams. He would allow the sensation - of your joy and laughter - to quell a pain deeply buried inside of him.
While the burdened promise of protecting the timelines echoed throughout his mind, his focus was no longer entirely occupied by the task at hand - by the mission of being on the throne - but by you. Stolen glances into your reality, physical proximity cradled if only by illusion in his dreams and waking fantasies, lit a wick in his core - promising an explosion in his heart if he did not start to take precautions with his feelings. But... with your presence in front of him, his mind could rest, and he could be at ease.
Loki often found himself wondering what it would feel like to hear your soothing voice call his name. He longed to be seen, not just by anyone—by you. It was a laborious struggle, this mix of euphoria and sorrow - wanting nothing but happiness for you, no matter which timeline you were in… yet.. still, in his quietest moments, he would let himself dream, selfishly wishing it was him you’d say goodnight to, if only just once.
When hope slipped away, time and time again, he would lower his gaze, seeking refuge from the relentless thoughts. But…he knew he would always come back to you.
‘How could I not?’...
This particular night, when the weight of your own day had been laid to rest, Loki sought out your mind in the dark. An intense wave of sensual indulgence erupted through his body as he allowed himself to siphon the sensation of your solitary pleasure. Pleasure. A feeling that had been lost in the spacial abyss for quite some time. He would not turn his gaze upon you, as you allowed yourself to be consumed by self gratification... your most intimate moments. Closing his eyes, as if to give you privacy, he tried to remember how long it had been since he himself had had an intimate moment. He could only imagine the pleasure of being able to truly hold you, gently kissing your lips, moving together in perfect harmony. A passionate embrace, bodies gently entwining in the most sacred of acts, whispering promises of love to you between soft moans.
Love. Love?
Loki suddenly froze, eyes snapping open at the realization of the emotion he had nonverbally named. He slowly straightened his posture against the back of the cold seat, timelines clawing heavily at the lines in his palms. Feeling a heated dagger in his heart, ignoring the way his anatomy had betrayed him having been lost in the forbidden sensation of your reality, he scolded himself for imagining something so real. His throat bobbed as he inhaled a breath of the emptiness surrounding him, immediately reprimanding himself once more for indulging in your pleasure, and crossing the boundary he swore he would not.
Love.
Loki scoffed defensively, bringing himself back to reality. No longer did he get the privilege of feeling love, care, companionship. Sacrifice - a heavier toll than he ever would have imagined. A familiar sadness wrapped around his throat, threatening to extract tears.
The reality was, no matter what realm you were in, no matter what he felt, how much he wished he could speak to you, just once - it was impossible now - given his choice and commitment to guard the timelines, for freedom.
For them. For you.
Loki repeated this mantra to himself, a reminder of his motives, remembering the god he wanted to be.
The chokehold of grief elicited a small sob from the deepest shadows of his soul, in part from the guilt of using his own power to feel companionship, to feel love, under the guise of protection, and in part from the sorrow of never being able to return back to life in the timelines. Never getting a chance to be near you, even if only as a stranger passing by in the bustle of your daily life.
Purpose. A heavier burden than he ever knew to be possible.
On a particularly quiet night, lost in a deep slumber, you dreamt of a distant soul, calling to you in a soft, fleeting whisper. The stranger seemed gentle, but their voice was heavily laced with pain and agony as they cried out to you, calling your name, in a desperate plea to be heard.
You were abruptly jolted awake by a searing burn on your skin, branching through your hands like lightning, leaving a scorching imprint in the flesh of your trembling palms. You inhaled sharply as you inspected the marks that remained.
“Magic.” You whispered, quickly swinging your legs to the side of your bed, sitting upright as you studied the light coursing through your hands.
A power unfamiliar to you, almost alive, flared from the tips of your fingers to your wrist. A bright green rope-like illumination emanated from your upturned palms.
The magic throbbed, as if fueled by someone else’s spark. Your hands ached as the heat ripped through your skin, sinking deeper into your flesh. In the silence of the night, the foreign magic coursed through your veins, the power pulsing in a heartbeat that was not your own.
You willed your own frost-blue glow to spill from your fingertips. Shimmering wisps curled around each digit, delicately twisting around the emerald that had been etched onto your body. Instinctively, you closed your eyes and willed your own strands of magic to reach out to the power that had called to you in your sleep.
Then you sensed him. A stranger's soul, ethereal, almost faint. With forceful intention, you strengthened the bond to his magic. His presence was a distant echo, lingering in the air around you, but veiled in the mist of time and space. The presence was elusive and fleeting, barely detectable in your mind and senses. Persisting, you extended your power, finally reaching the source you had been searching for.
A smoldering silence lingered in the air for a moment. You felt the unmistakable weight of eyes upon you. With a swift motion, you spread your hands, lighting the room, your gaze searching for the shadowed figure watching you.
“I know you’re here,” You cautiously broke silence, your words bouncing off of the walls in the empty room. “Physically or not.”
Another empty moment passed.
“Please, say something…” Your words brushed against the air like a feather, soft and pleading, a hushed request that somehow seemed to carry more weight than any shout ever could.
Rippling through the silence, his voice reached you. Soft, low, coming from nowhere yet surrounding you everywhere at once. Time stood still as a hum so low and delicate found you.
“I... am not supposed to be here..."
“Please, don’t leave...” you pleaded gently, your voice laced with a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to say a word… just stay, if only for a moment.”
The silence was suffocating, thick enough to feel, as if the air itself had frozen in place. It pressed against your ears, louder than any noise, almost deafening in its stillness.
“You don’t understand what this means…”
The voice pressed through the hushed air. Your heart ached at the way his voice cracked with desperation. His emotion was raw, the mix of regret and longing, the weight of the forbidden moments spilling in a tremble from his lips like honey.
“For either of us.”
The room grew colder, yet your blood coursed with a fierce heat through your veins at the intensity of the unspoken warning. Whatever this connection was, you knew it was not meant to exist. But now... it did.
And there was no turning back.
Taggies as requested : @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl
Divider Credit : cafekitsune
Xoxo - L 🖤
Masterlist
This was INSANELY good and I’m so extremely excited! I had thought of a similar concept SO many times and you’re doing it such justice!
Thank you for blessing us with wonderful writing and a wonderful setting 🙇♀️
MY HEART. I am so touched by your kind words, my goodness!
Comments like this are what inspire me to keep writing 🖤💚 You made my day, friend.
Thank you for being here. 😌
Liberties [Loki x Reader]
A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After ruining the biggest night of your career, Loki ruins you, too. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Dickish Avenger!Loki. Language. Workplace romance. Rough(ish) smut. (w/c 3.1k)
Folds of your expensive black dress swished as you stormed down the corridor of the forty-sixth floor. Everyone was still at the event. Or, The Shitstorm as it would now be known. Shame. Shouting at someone would really help right now.
You tore out the earpiece and slammed it on the nearest desk, shoving a pile of papers off the side for good measure. Laufeyson.
You’d spent months concocting the perfect debut for that greasy-haired, peacocking, gangly-limbed motherfucker. Did he say ‘thank you’? Did he smile and mind his P’s and Q’s and pose with the New York glitterati like he was supposed to for one night?
Nails sank into the soft flesh of your palm. Course he fucking didn’t.
After he’d gone off script during his speech, stating he could fix the woeful state of Earth’s political spectrum in thirty-seven minutes, it had all gone downhill. Insulting politicians, flirting egregiously with their wives…with their husbands.
The cool glass met your forehead as your rested against the door with your name on it. Director, it said. It didn’t feel like it. Fucking Laufeyson. He was unmanageable—just like his hair. He didn’t even comb it—bastard. You’d specifically requested it.
There was a bottle of whisky hidden in the bookcase behind a doorstop project management manual. You glanced down the empty corridor a final time and slipped inside the dark office, making straight for the bookcase. Pulling out the book concealing your beautiful, impending numbness, you frowned. The bottle was—
"I’m afraid I took the liberty," someone said.
You screamed, lobbing the book in the direction of the voice. It hit the flat, black back of your office chair with a pathetic thump.
The chair swivelled: glacial, infuriating. But you already knew. It was that voice; the one that made it impossible not to imagine him making snide remarks while he fucked you from behind with a fist knotted at your scalp. And besides, you could see the wavy, rumpled crown of his greasy fucking hair over the rim of the chair.
"How did you…What the hell are you doing in here? This is restricted—"
"Restricted?" Laufeyson barked out a weak laugh of reprimand. "Please."
He raised a hand, gaze fixed on the ornate glass of amber liquid cupped in his palm. It had been a present from Stark for your promotion, and the sting of your nails on your palm burned new. "This is really rather good, considering."
"Considering what?" "That it was produced on this planet." His eyes slid to yours, upper lip twitching as he said, "Another thing to add to its sparse list of accomplishments."
You pulled another book from the shelf and threw it at his face. It missed.
Loki didn’t flinch. He just sat there wearing his favourite smirk; one foot resting on his knee and his shadowed eyes glinting with curious observation. He’d removed the suit jacket—the one specifically tailored for this event—in his requested colour, a lush emerald green with gold trim.
Dickhead. You’d run yourself ragged for his petty demands. And then he’d fucked it all up anyway.
Realising your eyes were lingering on the suspenders stretched against the wall chest muscle, you tore them up to his face and forced coldness into your voice. "I literally left the event to get away from you, before I punched you in the face; you realise that?"
"I do."
You threw up your hands and turned towards the window, arms folded; watching the flash of traffic on the street below like luminous ants. Spotlights flashed across the night sky, crossing and weaving against each other in celebration of the biggest night of the year. "Stark will fire me for what you did."
Loki’s laugh was accompanied by a splutter of liquid. You shot a glare over your shoulder, catching him press the back of a hand against his mouth and shaking with mirth.
"I think not. Stark cares only for publicity—and…" He extended a hand with a self-congratulatory flourish before resting an elbow on the armrest, brushing a finger to his lips. "He knows what I’m like," he added with a coy brush of a smile.
Heat exploded beneath your skin.
Before you could think it through you were towering over Loki, a hand spread against his sternum. You pushed against muscle, letting the chair tilt ominously backwards. Loki’s eyes widened fractionally, dark eyebrows peaking in genuine surprise. "If you've ruined my career I will hunt you down and I will—"
"Hunt me down?" Loki purred. His eyes dropped to your hand pressed to his chest and rose slowly to your face. "I’m right here, as you can plainly see. No hunting necessary." His rumble caught on the T. "Being accosted, no less."
You released him with a grunt.
"Couldn’t you just behave? This was your big night…your official launch in the team, your new start. Why couldn’t you just be good for once?"
"Good?" Loki’s voice hardened. A green, glowing rectangle unfurled in the empty air beside his shoulder, and a shot from the ad campaign you’d organised several weeks ago filled the space.
Emblazoned in Stark Industries font across the image of Loki looking like a sexual apocalypse in a skin tight leather combat suit were the flickering words, ‘God of Mischief.’ And then, Loki said, "It’s in the name, darling. The one you selected—a new start was never part of the agreement, nor was it suggested. I believe the phrase was, ‘refreshed branding'…Was it not?"
He shifted, and somehow the muscles in his legs were outlined in the soft glow of a thousand skyscraper windows. "Same package, different wrapping, as it were."
Your brows rose, trying to keep the brittle defeat from your eyes. "Your behaviour tonight was unacceptable. You can’t go around comparing global foreign policy to Thanos’s bowel movements."
Loki waved a hand, sliding the glass over the desk with a scoff.
"My behaviour is always unacceptable; it’s part of the allure. The populous long for something raw, something unexpected. Something unmarred by inane pleasantries and fakery." His eyes slid upwards, nailing you like gas lamps in darkness. "Take you, for instance."
It was your turn to scoff. "I don’t see what I have to do with this."
Loki leant back in the chair, eyelids drooping. His tongue nipped over his lips in a flash of pink. "You very much want to have me; I can see it. I can smell it."
Your jaw loosened, mortification prickling over your skin as he added, "Carnally," as if it required explanation.
"You’re out of your fucking mind. I can’t stand you."
Loki’s lips curled, and you hated how much you wanted to suck the smirk off his goddam mouth. "Correct on both counts, I’m sure. It doesn’t change the inescapable reality that you want to know what I taste like."
Your tongue shaped words, and then you choked on them as Loki unfurled from the chair: all long limbs, slutty curls and slimfit tailoring. Oh Christ.
Your bare shoulder-blades met the window as he meandered across the floor without a care in the world; bladed cheekbones casting shadows across his skin; assassins emerging from the dark.
"You want to know what I fuck like," he said, words stirring like treacle. "Whether I’m generous, whether I’m as good as they say, whether I’m as brutish and punishing as part of you hopes I would be."
He stood in front of you, hands clasped behind his back, and leant forwards until his breath was hot on your forehead and the expensive cologne wafting from the open buttons of his shirt drifted up your nostrils. A short puff of mirth exhaled against your skin before he added, piercing, "But most of all, you want to know what I sound like when I cum."
He was awful: conceited, rude, imperious. But, fuck, he was right.
Your sweaty palms slid against the glass as he straightened and waited for a response. He sighed, and you found yourself staring at the strain of the buttons down the front of his shirt as he did.
"As I thought," said Loki, bored. "Paralysed by your desires—wasting away in a pit of indecision and regret as so many of your ilk." He shrugged, arms wide. "So be it."
Your hand shot out, yanking the nearest suspender and pulling his mouth to yours. Loki’s hand flew to the surface behind your head, and the wall of glass trembled.
His warrior body pressed firm against your chest, crushing you in the scent of desire and the primal heat radiating from his skin while your hands fisted in his hair and the god groaned into your throat.
He pulled back, frowning as your hand grasped at the erection pressing against his trousers. "Let me be clear," he growled. ‘I am no one’s pet. I will not be tamed. Is that understood?"
"Oh, will you shut up?" You tore at the buttons of his shirt, regretting the lack of nuance, before adding, "but, like, keep talking though."
Loki’s chuckle vibrated against your palms as the shirt slid over the curve of his biceps and then you were raking at his perfect skin, pulling his mouth to yours in a hateful mess of tongues and need and fire that ripped through your body.
Nimble fingers made quick work of his buckle, and Loki’s hands ran up the curve of your thighs, pushing the folds of your dress around your hips. "I've been longing to break you in..." he muttered, eyes shining in the light from New York’s glittering skyline.
You yanked his hair, and Loki hissed with pleasure. "I’m not a virgin; weirdo," you gasped, grasping his thick, perfect cock in a punishing fist.
His lips spread with a wolfish grin. "Ah, but you’ve never been fucked by me."
One of his hands slipped between your legs and trailed through the wetness it found. He moaned softly, massaging your clit like oil. Your head fell against the window as he slipped a long, elegant finger inside you. It was disgusting how much you wanted him, and you’d let yourself feel every, traitorous moment.
His digits curled, stoking the same, exquisite spot again, and again— "such a pretty, warm cunt," he whispered, filthy—as whines slid from your lips. "And to think, you’ve been denying yourself."
Loki tsk’d, his free hand playing at your exposed neck. He sucked a bruising kiss into your throat as hot cum welled around his fingers, holding you upright, balanced against the thigh shoved between your legs.
"Fuck me," you gasped, grappling at his shoulders. He said nothing. You met his eyes; slivers of blue visible on the rim of wide, black pools. "Like…fuck me, fuck me."
"I knew you’d want me rough," he said quietly, drawing his knuckles down your cheek. The hand fell to the neckline of your dress and before you could even inhale, a mighty rip sent your dress scattering across the floor.
Loki’s covetous eyes roamed your chest, your body; his chin dipped, his eyes glazed with lust. "Over there." He motioned with his head.
You followed the order and gripped the back of one of the two chairs positioned by the window. Leather slid under the sheen clinging to your palms. Loki’s touch cupped your hips, his hands grazing appreciatively over bare skin.
"I knew it would be tonight," he murmured, pressing his cock into the base of your spine. His breath was hot on your throat. "As soon as I saw the utter loathing in your eyes; I knew it would be the one."
He twisted your hair back, biting the curve of your shoulder with unbearable erotic restraint. You pressed your ass into his crotch, moaning his name under your breath as he traced a finger down your spine until he reached the cock leaking precum over your skin.
Positioning between your legs, he rubbed the column twice through your slick lips before sheathing himself on the third.
The two of you gasped in unison; the guttural growl of Loki’s voice making your knees tremble before he delivered the first, devastating thrust. The force of it sent the chair screeching over the floor.
"G-gods…you’re tight," he choked, withdrawing and circling the crown at the tip of your channel. "I knew you would be perfect…but…but…"
Another thrust and the chair hit the window, but you didn’t care. Loki filled every part of you; you’d never felt so exposed, so free, with every fluid buck of his hips which made stars burst behind your eyelids. He bottomed out with a grunt of your name, balls slapping against your clit, one hand flying to the glass above your head and making a messy streak as it fell.
"Not enough," he said, breathless. The god pulled you upright and kissed you with the force of a storm, gathering you in his arms. The next thing you felt was the cool desk on your ass, Loki spreading your thighs and the utter joy of him breaching the empty space inside you he’d ruined for all other men.
One hand roughly palmed at your breasts, the other cradling your skull as every trinket you’d every owned rattled on the desk. Somewhere, something cracked. He went harder, pounding deeper with each snap of his hips that slapped against your skin.
There was a clink, a melodic roll, and then a smash. The sharp scent of whisky filled the air. You began to look but Loki pulled your chin to face him.
"On me," he ordered, eyes narrowed. There was a faint flush in his cheeks. "On me. Always."
Your legs wound around Loki’s hips. One kiss slid into another, his bucks becoming frantic as climax burst inside you with a rattle of his name. He lowered you to the desk, sliding his glistening cock from your cunt and kissing down your abdomen.
As you craned up, slack-jawed, the god delivered a single, earth-trembling lick up the centre of your pussy; gathering himself on his tongue. He swallowed, pacing behind you and seating himself on your chair.
You sat up, observing him over your shoulder. His shirt was completely unbuttoned, thanks to you, pale skin shimmering pearl in the honeyed gloom. He looked up beneath his lashes—smouldering—slender fingers wrapped around the cock protruding from splayed fabric; pumping in fluid strokes.
He cocked an eyebrow, and it was as good as a beckon from one of those slender fingers.
Shifting from the desk, you sank to your knees, and Loki’s legs widened. The fabric of his trousers creased maddeningly over the meat of his thighs.
"Tell me you haven’t thought about this," he said, baiting. He could smell lies as keenly as sulphur. "That you haven’t wanted to choke on my cock."
It wasn’t a question.
You fixed your eyes on his as you settled a hand around the root and swallowed the tip.
Loki’s eyes rolled back, head falling to the back of the chair. Black waves dripped down his shoulders like spilled ink, every thrust of his hips into your mouth making new combinations of filthy curses rattle from his chest.
A hand settled on your head, following the motion as your mouth worked back and forth along the length of him: sucking, licking, grazing the sensitive tip with your teeth. Loki hissed, fingers tightening in your hair.
"Fucking Norns, you are a slut," he muttered appreciatively.
You doubled down, and soon Loki’s balls tightened. Something shifted as he stiffened, the hand in your hair flying to the armrest. His breaths were short, moans brief and ragged as he fought himself. "Finish me," he growled, tapered to a whine. One, calculated suck was all it took. Loki’s climax trembled down his body, spurting into your mouth like a tide of warm, smooth butter. Your tongue circled the tip, massaging him through the throes as his body shuddered a final time and a staggered sigh rocked the air.
A finger slipped beneath your chin, tilting up to meet his expectant smirk. "Well?" Loki asked, eyes glinting. "Was I everything you dreamt of?"
The lazy smile on your face evaporated. You brushed the hand aside, covering your breasts. Loki frowned.
"There’s no need for that, believe me." He guided your hands into his and pulled you to his lap. "Do you recall when I mentioned this realm’s sparse list of accomplishments?" You grunted reluctant confirmation. Loki sucked your earlobe between his teeth, releasing a contented sigh. "Your body is most definitely on that list." He paused, breath catching. "All of you, truth be told," he added quietly.
Before you had time to process what he'd said, you were standing.
Loki’s fingers fastened the buttons of his shirt with unnatural speed as you stared forlornly at the ripped dress on the floor. Fuck. There was a sweatsuit hanging in the small wardrobe stashed in the corner. That would have to do—you could slip out the side entrance, no need to…
"I’ll see you downstairs?" Loki asked, all business. He looked at you expectantly as the bespoke forest green suit jacket melted over his torso like paint. You’d forgotten how good he looked in it and resolved never to forget it ever again.
The god carded a hand through his hair, letting in fall in wild waves. The outline of his erection was still visible through the tight trousers. Did I really just fuck…Loki Laufeyson? A sick pride sprouted in your belly.
You crouched and picked up the tattered, black fabric. "I don’t think so, I mean—" Loki’s kiss cut you off. He sucked your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away.
"I’ll see you downstairs," he repeated softly. "Someone has to make sure I’m behaving myself, after all."
You rolled your eyes, trying not to stare as he swaggered to the door and shot a grin through the glass panels as he passed.
He has a point, though. You couldn’t let him go unattended. What if he gets one of the senators’ wives alone? What if he sexes them up...like me?
The thought, however ridiculous it would have been an hour ago, was like a knife between your ribs.
You scurried to the wardrobe concealed in the corner and opened it, cursing the fact you didn’t keep a spare office dress like the slinky bitches on TV.
You stared, blinking several times.
Hanging in the wardrobe was an identical dress to the one lying shredded on the floor. Almost identical. You pulled it out, holding the hanger up. In the glow of the midnight skyline, green jewels glittered around the neckline, woven in intricate patterns that melted into the folds of skirt. A note was pinned to the bodice. I can be good, it said. Our secret.
Tags in comments 💖🥰 Come say hi!
Catching up…. I can’t take all of these amazing fics omg
🤤
Breaking Fast [Loki x Reader]
A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki breaks a self-imposed sexual fast with you, of course. (w/c 1.6k) Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Language. Asgardian Loki x Female Reader.
Loki was acutely aware of each thud of his boots against stone, each swish of the leather cape which brushed his knuckles as he ignored the hungry eyes following him.
He had one goal; one objective which would consume him with black, maddening fire if he didn't sate it before the need reached crescendo.
'A sexual fast', he'd told his brother loftily. 'To counteract the tolerance from centuries of overindulgence.' And his brother had laughed. But the scepticism had only made him more determined, and Loki had kept the promise to himself not to break until it was a necessity. And now, you'd left him no choice.
As the ache in his hips tightened, he couldn't recall why he'd tried to resist the coy glances for so long; the calculated shift of your body against his during feast days and court balls. Desire ran hot and hard in his veins. It was decided. He would have you—and his fast would be broken.
He wanted to feel your gasps of pleasure fresh and needy on his face, the moans of surprise as he knocked the air from your lungs with his legendary cock. He wanted to own you; mark himself on your supple thighs between wet, indecent pleasures and wring the tantalising lilt from your voice until it was rasped and rusted with his name.
He would fuck you like another never had, and like another never would. Until your dying breath, it would be his prowess that made your cunt glisten in the dying of the light.
Loki's leathers tightened furiously.
The messenger would have arrived to your quarters one hour ago, bringing his command. You would be waiting in his expansive wing used exclusively for entertainment. His nest of debauchery and hedonism, such as it was; dust gathering on its silks and scattered pillows.
Not for long.
He smiled as the bronze doors bearing his emblem drew closer. He could see it now: your naked body spread on the furs, draped out for him, driven half mad by anticipation. A dizzying pulse of excitement soared in his chest. Two guards stationed outside rose their spears in salute and brought them sharply to the marble floor. Loki waved a hand, and the doors spread as smoothly as he would part your legs.
"Open it to no one."
The guards exchanged a worried glance.
One of them cleared his throat. "Not even....her...Prince Loki?"
Loki's eyes narrowed as he spun slowly towards the one who'd spoken. The fear in his eyes made Loki's cock throb despite the swoop of irritation forcing up his throat. "Do you mean to tell me she isn't here yet?"
"N-No, my—"
"And miss your theatrical approach?"
Loki's gaze snapped in the direction he'd come, heat flushing immediately through his chest. You stood straight and regal, delicate hands clasped in front of you and your chin tilted up with an air of imperiousness that made his scalp tingle. Silk chiffon, barely opaque, fluttered in outrageously alluring folds down to your ankles.
"It's foreplay, watching you storm around like a conqueror. I thought that was the intention."
Loki opened his mouth and closed it again as you passed, shooting a last warning glare at the guards.
The doors slammed behind him.
Loki watched with uncharacteristic silence as you wandered to the window, casting a cursory glance over the sprawl of Asgard’s golden turrets glittering in afternoon sun. "Everyone has been so invested in your sexual fast, Loki." His name teasing on your lips made his manhood twitch riotously against leather. Norns, he'd never wanted anyone more. And yet he couldn't move. The silhouette of your body was outlined against a halo of thin, pale fabric. "Although I must confess, your public have been rooting for its end. The gossip well is positively dry without you."
"Is that why your temptations have been so flagrant?" His voice was forced; strained. You glanced over your shoulder with a wicked smile.
"It's a game we play. Me and my Ladies."
"I only saw you playing it."
"As intended. On my part, at least. I can assure you it was quite competitive."
Loki's feet moved of their own accord, crossing the sun-slatted room in several long strides. And then your hands were in his hair, fiddling at the clasps of his cape, tangling your bodies and feet and mouths in a liquid rush of desire. He slipped the material from your shoulders, fine as spider web, devouring kisses rushing down the long column of your neck. You smelled like crushed florals, spices: tingling inside his nostrils and making his hips snap against your abdomen.
"I want you to ruin me, Loki Odinson..." Your smile grew against his ear. "All the depraved, filthy fantasies you've run through your mind as you fucked yourself like an animal in your lonely bed. I want them all."
Loki's mind folded in on itself as lips crushed together, bodies moving to the nearest pile of furs as his tunic was shed, belts skittered across the floor and tangling in the dress discarded beside it.
He crawled on top of you: naked, resplendent, his pale cock flushed with raging, animal anticipation. "I will not be gentle," he murmured, it tenderness shifting to a savage purr as he grazed his nose up yours and punctuating it with a hungry nip of your bottom lip.
"Neither will I."
He brushed a thumb slowly over your lips, teasing the bottom one down, parting willing beneath his touch, and pushing his thumb further inside that hot, sweet mouth.
He felt a flicker of tongue against it, and then, you began to suck, your head tilting back ever-so-slightly; eyes fixed on him. His thigh pressed up between your legs and a brief grin dawned on his lips at the gasp that followed.
Your fingers fastened around the meat of his length, guiding it inside you. Loki's ragged groan would be heard in Muselheim. But he didn't care. All he cared about was the tight, hot grip of your pussy as it absolved him of any doubt, lighting up the deep, dark, dormant pockets of his mind.
His biceps tensed as he fell to his forearms, caging your impossibly perfect face. He bottomed out, dragging himself back, and the hideously primal ripple of pleasure that coursed across your features made him want to burn the world for you.
Words were lost in the slap of skin and the tight smack of his balls as he plunged deeper. Your hand fisted in his hair, edging him on with each slam of your hips.
Orgasm exploded like magma, searing from his belly and coating his limbs in electric, juddering ecstasy. He slid down the furs, dripping as he went, and burying his face between your legs.
The taste of cunt was heaven. Gods, how he'd missed it. What was I thinking? As Loki's fingers tightened around your hips, reacting to each rise and fall of each breathless moan, he resolved never to deny himself again.
The taste of your sweetness arrived like sunrise through the tang of his cum. He dove deeper, careful to keep the methodical lap of his tongue away from your swollen clit. Too soon. He wanted to feel the madness in your twists against the sheets; to feel you come undone like boneless prey. He wanted to hear you beg. He wanted—
"Loki," you pleaded, and he met your eyes over the swell of your stomach. There was more than lust in them—it was devotion— and the god groaned deep in his throat as he suckled your clit.
Your back arched, and his hands slid up your spread thighs, tips sinking into soft flesh.
He made you come four more times—each leaving you with more sweat glistening on the spill of your breasts. As the fourth ebbed, as he massaged his jaw, you flipped upward and slid onto his lap.
He fucked you like that: slow, intimate, benevolent, for as long as he could bear.
The careful scratch of nails on his shoulders, the soft caresses of your pretty moans in his ear. His hands slid to your waist before raising and twisting your body in one fluid motion to all-fours.
"Do you know you are honoured?" he asked with all the imperiousness he could muster. He had a sudden, blinding need to cover every inch of your body with his seed. Your profile appeared, locking eyes with a rabid determination he’d only ever seen reflected in the mirrors above his bed.
The words from your lips were ambrosia: low and smooth. "Honour me, God of Mischief," you commanded; and so he did.
Loki slid inside your wet slit with a guttural choke.
His large hands grasped at your hips, fucking you like a dog, the slap of his skin against your flesh filling the air like hail. He was conqueror and king; ruler of every pitched whine of pleasure from your lips as your fists tightened against the furs and you panted his name like it was the only word rattling around your skull.
Fresh, milky cum welled at your sex, spreading up the thick of his cock as he slowed and pulled out, dipping the tip leisurely before slamming to the hilt like the starving dog he was. "Turn around," he ordered against your spine, acutely aware of something shifting urgently inside him; the urge to fuck, and fuck, and fuck.
You complied, eyes sparkling. He watched them track from his spread thighs, cum glistening; the flushed cock in his hand, the tight, taut nip of his waist. Your gaze rested on his ropes of tense shoulder muscle, the shift of his right bicep as his fingers toyed with the leaking crown of his manhood.
Shameless.
He loved it.
Your hands cupped your breasts, massaging gently. Loki couldn’t look away. His hand moved faster, jolting at the scratch of your nails on the underside of his balls. They tightened.
"F-Fuck," he rasped, head falling back and curls of damp hair sticking across his forehead.
He groaned a final time, cum forcing up so fiercely it might rip him in two. His neck snapped forwards at the moment it exploded, landing at the hollow of your neck, dripping in thick, white tendrils over the sweat-pearled gleam of your skin.
He panted, mouth open, dazed as you drew a finger up the mess and sucked it clean. You rose to your knees, kissing him deeply, one tilt sliding into another; the taste of him strong in your mouth. "Welcome back, Prince Loki," you whispered. And between the flush of your bodies, Loki’s cock twitched.
Tags in comments! ❤️Come say hiii (please) 🤭 x
PROGRESSIVELY GOT STEAMIER AND STEAMIER I WAS UNPREPARED Going to live with the imagery of the thumb forever tysm this gave me a reawakening
Unbound - Chapter 1: The Keeper's Bond
(Loki x Magic Female Reader)
(A/N) : Hi my lovelies! Apologies for my absence, I appreciate your patience with me...
*The last month has been particularly challenging. I continue to recover from surgery, I turned a year older, and I ended a near decade long relationship. As I continue navigating these emotions, I find comfort here, among you all, my friends 💚*
(I am hesitant to post this fic, it has lived in my drafts for quite some time. As a new writer, I'm scared to take on a multi-chapter fic! But - I hope that you enjoy where I'm going with it!) (It's not as elegantly written as I'd like, but indulge me...) & I am happy to be back! You all inspire me so much!
I appreciate your support and comfort now more than ever. Please have grace with any errors - I forgot how to write amidst the chaos and heartbreak...
Please feel free to drop me a message about anything/a pic of Loki or David Bowie (I'm currently chokeheld by Jareth)
Summary: Loki has been watching over you from his new throne... With his feelings on the line, he makes a bold decision to bond to your mind.
Word Count : 2.5k
Warnings: Slight touch of NSFW/Voyeurism in Ch 1
Happy Reading my Loves! 🖤
A throne, buried in the infinite void of space and time, was not what Loki had expected for his life’s purpose. Never truly wanting the throne, yet in a twist of fate, finding himself tethered to it for eternity, was an irony that laughed at him in an endless echo throughout the multiverses.
Exploring realities in the palms of his hands was a delicate craft. The responsibility, accepting the intricacies of overseeing an incalculable amount of timelines without interference or interjection was no small task. Observation had become a makeshift game to Loki, honing in on a multitude of lifeforms, seeking out what connection he could from afar, cherishing emotions of plenty in the vast cosmos which thrummed through his hands.
A new desolate reality, ever flowing, impalpable, washed through Loki. A sobering wave crashed into him over and over again, reminding him that this was life now.
In the darkest of hours, he allowed his head to lower and rest, obsidian horns digging deep into his temples, a torment unlike any Loki had endured before. Despite the stillness around him, an unrelenting gravitational pressure crawled around his head, eerily creeping into a chokehold around his neck. A force strong enough to extract tears from a god.
The weight of the crown had proven to be heavy, in more ways than one.
The pull of the timelines forged on, wrapping serpent-like, circling Loki’s wrists; binding him to the seated throne.
The intensity of holding limitless lives extracted a toll on Loki’s physical form. In secret, he wished he could put the weight down - if only for a moment. Knowing he could not, knowing he was destined to this role for eternity - these thoughts spiraled in his mind, plaguing his thoughts like a broken record with every passing second.
Attempting to shake the burden of eternal responsibility, Loki let his eyes fall shut, concentrating on the only thing that brought the god solace in his isolation. Locating you.
Loki had observed millions of souls in his quest to pass time. Asgardians, Midgardians, creatures from planets and realms that in all of his centuries he had never once discovered. He found comfort in busying himself with watching the lives of beings across the galaxies, across time, into the promise of forever.
Yet, in his observation of the entirety of space and time, Loki had never encountered a living soul quite like yours. There was something particularly special about you, a unique aura standing out as a bright star in the atramentous eternal sky. Loki felt an unexplainable pull to your life force - a pulsing chemistry, as though you were two magnets coming together in an unyielding draw.
Curiosity propelled Loki’s focus to you, solely. You were a powerful enchantress, a formidable force to be sure. Intrigue, he decided, was the proper feeling he had for you… at first. It did not go unnoticed, the way you effortlessly wielded your own powers, harmonious with the mysterious magic you possessed. Unlike himself, unlike most everyone in the multiverses, Loki could find no other variants of you. Scanning all of the timelines, he quickly realized you were a one of a kind entity - a rare anomaly that captured the attention of the God of Stories.
Loki shifted in the throne, straining his forearms as he found you within the malachite cordage that resided in his grasp. Using all of his might, he concentrated on your energy, barely able to locate you through a thick veil of unfamiliar magic. Adjusting his grip on the timeline, the veins in his arm thrummed, focusing deeply, eyes finally landing upon your form.
For the first time, he could see your face clearly as you walked alone, your breath puffing into a small cloud of moisture as you exhaled into the cold night. Your hair softly fell around your face, bouncing delicately in tandem with each footstep. The clang of your black leather boots echoed with each hurried stride as you made your way across the damp cobblestone street. Your beauty was so effortless & charming, Loki found it hard to pull his gaze from you. Though out of reach, you were absolutely enchanting.
To be near you - Loki imagined, slowly drawing in deep breath, inhaling at the sudden fluttering that had manifested in his core.
Abruptly, a frigid gust of wind commanded the hair on the back of your neck to raise, causing you to fuss with the herringbone scarf that stylishly looped around your collar. You took a moment to peer up at the night sky as you raised the hood of your coat to rest upon the crown of your head. The dazzling beauty of the stars twinkling above forced you to stop and appreciate the divine display. A brilliant wave of emerald light appeared overhead, dancing elegantly in a private show, eliciting a shy smile from your lips.
Your eyes creased, squinting at a particularly bright star. Your gaze lingered on it with a subconscious level of expectancy.
“I’m not sure I’ve seen you before”, you remarked at the unfamiliar celestial orb, as if it would answer back if you asked it their name.
Loki stilled as you tilted your head in wonderment, imagining you could somehow see him through the vastness of space, somehow sense his presence. He wanted to believe you could.
“Stunning” you whispered quietly, letting out a contented sigh as you continued on your path into the darkness.
As time went on, your voice became a symphony in the silence. Your expressions became their own motion pictures that played in an endless loop within Loki’s mind. Watching you cast your spells as deliberately and cautiously as a painter stroking a canvas, Loki never tired of watching you. He admired your skill, your intelligence, as you worked with magic that was foreign to him. Somehow, these stolen glances and sacred moments seemed like a secret kept between the two of you.
Loki let out a disgruntled sigh, reminding himself once more that you did not, and you would not ever know him. He silently cursed, knowing he could never interfere. Yet, perhaps…
It had started as a simple trial, a test spell easily woven and rooted to your mind. A small magical connection tethering his mind to yours. Nothing more than to ensure your protection, to ensure your safety.
The moment that Loki had cast this spell upon you, practicing his illusionary craft became somewhat of a game, hiding himself from your mind, blending in with the shadows of your thoughts.
Ilusion - an art form that Loki had mastered over centuries. Invisibility he found easy, but ignoring the intoxicating pull of the spellbound bond he had formed…This was much more difficult.
He had not intended for the bond to grow so strong. At first, it was a fleeting trick, a slow dancing flame, a soft whisper that lived on the edge of his consciousness. Only a way to ensure your safety, a way to pass time.
Yet each time he sensed your own mind within his, something inside of him tightened, even yearned for you. An undeniable ache that he refused to put a name to.
As months time passed, the bond strengthened greatly. The lie that he told himself - of safety and precaution - seemingly dissolved, transforming into something…more. The sense of nobility, of being your protector from afar, alarmingly shifted to a forbidding feeling. Longing.
The forged connection had become an addiction. Each night, Loki would find himself utterly intoxicated in your mind; voyeuristically watching you in your realm. Inhaling a breath of your conciousness and warmth. He let his eyes flutter shut, mesmerised by the comfort of your dreams. He would allow the sensation - of your joy and laughter - to quell a pain deeply buried inside of him.
While the burdened promise of protecting the timelines echoed throughout his mind, his focus was no longer entirely occupied by the task at hand - by the mission of being on the throne - but by you. Stolen glances into your reality, physical proximity cradled if only by illusion in his dreams and waking fantasies, lit a wick in his core - promising an explosion in his heart if he did not start to take precautions with his feelings. But... with your presence in front of him, his mind could rest, and he could be at ease.
Loki often found himself wondering what it would feel like to hear your soothing voice call his name. He longed to be seen, not just by anyone—by you. It was a laborious struggle, this mix of euphoria and sorrow - wanting nothing but happiness for you, no matter which timeline you were in… yet.. still, in his quietest moments, he would let himself dream, selfishly wishing it was him you’d say goodnight to, if only just once.
When hope slipped away, time and time again, he would lower his gaze, seeking refuge from the relentless thoughts. But…he knew he would always come back to you.
‘How could I not?’...
This particular night, when the weight of your own day had been laid to rest, Loki sought out your mind in the dark. An intense wave of sensual indulgence erupted through his body as he allowed himself to siphon the sensation of your solitary pleasure. Pleasure. A feeling that had been lost in the spacial abyss for quite some time. He would not turn his gaze upon you, as you allowed yourself to be consumed by self gratification... your most intimate moments. Closing his eyes, as if to give you privacy, he tried to remember how long it had been since he himself had had an intimate moment. He could only imagine the pleasure of being able to truly hold you, gently kissing your lips, moving together in perfect harmony. A passionate embrace, bodies gently entwining in the most sacred of acts, whispering promises of love to you between soft moans.
Love. Love?
Loki suddenly froze, eyes snapping open at the realization of the emotion he had nonverbally named. He slowly straightened his posture against the back of the cold seat, timelines clawing heavily at the lines in his palms. Feeling a heated dagger in his heart, ignoring the way his anatomy had betrayed him having been lost in the forbidden sensation of your reality, he scolded himself for imagining something so real. His throat bobbed as he inhaled a breath of the emptiness surrounding him, immediately reprimanding himself once more for indulging in your pleasure, and crossing the boundary he swore he would not.
Love.
Loki scoffed defensively, bringing himself back to reality. No longer did he get the privilege of feeling love, care, companionship. Sacrifice - a heavier toll than he ever would have imagined. A familiar sadness wrapped around his throat, threatening to extract tears.
The reality was, no matter what realm you were in, no matter what he felt, how much he wished he could speak to you, just once - it was impossible now - given his choice and commitment to guard the timelines, for freedom.
For them. For you.
Loki repeated this mantra to himself, a reminder of his motives, remembering the god he wanted to be.
The chokehold of grief elicited a small sob from the deepest shadows of his soul, in part from the guilt of using his own power to feel companionship, to feel love, under the guise of protection, and in part from the sorrow of never being able to return back to life in the timelines. Never getting a chance to be near you, even if only as a stranger passing by in the bustle of your daily life.
Purpose. A heavier burden than he ever knew to be possible.
On a particularly quiet night, lost in a deep slumber, you dreamt of a distant soul, calling to you in a soft, fleeting whisper. The stranger seemed gentle, but their voice was heavily laced with pain and agony as they cried out to you, calling your name, in a desperate plea to be heard.
You were abruptly jolted awake by a searing burn on your skin, branching through your hands like lightning, leaving a scorching imprint in the flesh of your trembling palms. You inhaled sharply as you inspected the marks that remained.
“Magic.” You whispered, quickly swinging your legs to the side of your bed, sitting upright as you studied the light coursing through your hands.
A power unfamiliar to you, almost alive, flared from the tips of your fingers to your wrist. A bright green rope-like illumination emanated from your upturned palms.
The magic throbbed, as if fueled by someone else’s spark. Your hands ached as the heat ripped through your skin, sinking deeper into your flesh. In the silence of the night, the foreign magic coursed through your veins, the power pulsing in a heartbeat that was not your own.
You willed your own frost-blue glow to spill from your fingertips. Shimmering wisps curled around each digit, delicately twisting around the emerald that had been etched onto your body. Instinctively, you closed your eyes and willed your own strands of magic to reach out to the power that had called to you in your sleep.
Then you sensed him. A stranger's soul, ethereal, almost faint. With forceful intention, you strengthened the bond to his magic. His presence was a distant echo, lingering in the air around you, but veiled in the mist of time and space. The presence was elusive and fleeting, barely detectable in your mind and senses. Persisting, you extended your power, finally reaching the source you had been searching for.
A smoldering silence lingered in the air for a moment. You felt the unmistakable weight of eyes upon you. With a swift motion, you spread your hands, lighting the room, your gaze searching for the shadowed figure watching you.
“I know you’re here,” You cautiously broke silence, your words bouncing off of the walls in the empty room. “Physically or not.”
Another empty moment passed.
“Please, say something…” Your words brushed against the air like a feather, soft and pleading, a hushed request that somehow seemed to carry more weight than any shout ever could.
Rippling through the silence, his voice reached you. Soft, low, coming from nowhere yet surrounding you everywhere at once. Time stood still as a hum so low and delicate found you.
“I... am not supposed to be here..."
“Please, don’t leave...” you pleaded gently, your voice laced with a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to say a word… just stay, if only for a moment.”
The silence was suffocating, thick enough to feel, as if the air itself had frozen in place. It pressed against your ears, louder than any noise, almost deafening in its stillness.
“You don’t understand what this means…”
The voice pressed through the hushed air. Your heart ached at the way his voice cracked with desperation. His emotion was raw, the mix of regret and longing, the weight of the forbidden moments spilling in a tremble from his lips like honey.
“For either of us.”
The room grew colder, yet your blood coursed with a fierce heat through your veins at the intensity of the unspoken warning. Whatever this connection was, you knew it was not meant to exist. But now... it did.
And there was no turning back.
Taggies as requested : @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl
Divider Credit : cafekitsune
Xoxo - L 🖤
Masterlist
CRIMSON PEAK (2015)
Whewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
Mine, Utterly [Loki x Reader]
A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After making Prince Loki a little jealous, he lays down the law on the eve of an important occasion. (w/c 2.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Minors DNI. Dirty talk, language.
Your hands hit the mattress and grasped at the silken sheets, as if that would save you.
“My Prince,” you gasped, breaths scorching against your lungs as he ripped the chiffon around your thighs.
All you’d done was smile at the guard. Okay, maybe flirt a little…just enough to rouse the jealousy Loki had suggested with a mischievous shine in his eyes before taking his place on the Royal banqueting dais.
A palm landed on your exposed ass cheek. Crying out, you shot a glance over your shoulder. Prince Loki stood, storms in his darkened eyes, the leather belt that had been slung across his chest now dangling from a fist. "You dare to make a god jealous?"
Your stomach dropped. What if it was a test; what if he was joking? But for all his antics, the Prince wasn’t known for his humour when it came to matters of the heart—or the flesh. He didn’t share, and as that thought sank in, the knuckles on the fist whitened. You inhaled sharply, grip tightening on the sheets.
Something struck your ass again, but this time it gripped. Loki’s back was pressed to yours. The emeralds studded into the intricately constructed doublet pinched through the thin fabric of your bodice as he whispered, “Perhaps I wasn’t clear that when you are mine, you are mine; utterly.”
His knuckles trailed down your bicep, those fingers that had been wet with your cum too many times to count in palace corridors and dark corners dancing across your skin. Those digits had fastened around your wrist and torn you away from the feasting hall, his obligations forgotten, and whisked you in an explosion of green light to the candlelit expanse of your own bedroom.
Now, Loki’s cock pressed through the layers of leather and velvet covering it right into the swell of your ass. It was a familiar feeling—but he’d always resisted. Only his fingers, his tongue, his words—that was the only relief he gave you over past months since your arrival at court. Never his pleasure—never his cock.
Norns, how you wanted to fuck him; wanted to ride him until his own name scattered on the wind like ash, feel him slam into your cunt until his brilliant mind was a blur of lines like wine spilled on parchment. You wondered how your name sounded on his lips when he came: staggered, gasping, choking for mercy.
His nose drew a line up your neck, inhaling at the pulse point like a hound. “You are mine, aren’t you?” he murmured.
In answer, your hand slid up his temple and knotted into Loki’s hair. A growl built in his throat, swelling your confidence in time with the heat throbbing between your legs. “No more, and no less, than you are mine, Loki Odinson.”
His teeth sank into your shoulder, just enough to make you squirm against his cock. He spun you around, tipping your over the edge of the mattress while he towered in a silhouette of black and forest green pulsating in amber flickers.
His fingers made quick work of the laces at his groin and then, his legendary, iron cock was in his hand. It was even more perfect that you’d dreamed. A well of saliva rose indelicately beneath your tongue. Loki stroked it, back and forth, as you watched: hypnotised.
“Tonight, I will show you what it is to be mine,” he said, low and thicker than molasses on a winter’s eve. “After that, I’m afraid you will be ruined for all others…” A devilish smirk lit at the corners of his mouth. Your heart pounded as you sat up on the bed, trying frantically to untangle the dress sprawled around your hips. Loki’s knees hit the mattress.
"Allow me," he said, before ripping the dress from your body in one, swift movement.
Your eyes widened as it fluttered to the floor. Only the corset remained. "My Prince…I," you said, attempting to keep the game fluid; but Loki pressed a finger to your lips with a hush. It was still warm from the friction of his cock.
"We have talked long enough, you and I. I would very much like to fuck you…" His eyebrows rose. "I will, fuck you. I will have you; utterly."
As the final syllable melted, so did his clothes. The emerald encrusted doublet was first, then the sigils of his station, then the boots and—oh, gods—the leather trousers.
Your chest tightened at the sight of him: carved like marble, the tremor of his muscle beneath taut skin as he rested back on his heels, thighs spread, enough to make you howl. Loki’s chin dipped to his chest, unbound hair falling around his milky shoulders like hot tar over battlements. His cheekbones flashed in pulsing candlelight as he said with a touch of malice, "I will not be kept waiting. Not anymore," but his eyes glinted.
You crawled the space between you and hoisted onto his lap. With your arms around his neck, your bare cunt pressed against the throb of his flesh, you couldn’t imagine it ever not being thus. And then, you kissed him; one sliding into the next like spring into summer, like night into day.
Loki’s kisses were a medley of ravenous restraint; morphing like his magic between complete desperation and tenderness. His hands cupped your ass, scooting you further up his lap. The tip of his cock rubbed against your slit.
"I want to consume you," he whispered, lips wet from your kisses. "And you will never be anothers."
"Never." A ragged moan ripped the air as you sank onto his length. Loki’s groan of pleasure was everything you’d dreamt of—a primal flash beneath the regal façade you wanted to tear at with your bare hands. His chin tipped back, nailing you with his dilated stare as his hips pushed up.
"Loki," you gasped, clutching at his back muscle. He was huge. The Prince bottomed out, teeth clenching.
"You’ve no idea how much I craved this little cunt," he panted as your hands fisted in his hair. "How many times I’ve wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until all thoughts of other men were shaken from your mind forever."
The squelch of your pussy jammed with his cock punctuated every word. "How you’ve teased me, played with me; ruined me—all for the want of the Valhalla I knew would be between your legs."
Loki’s head fell back with broken cry of anguish as you clench around the root of his cock, dragging up before slamming down onto the meat of his thighs.
“Fuck, kvinne…now I find myself tricked…” he said, breathless. The god’s head rose, strands of sex damp hair plastered across his brow. "I want you more than ever."
His eyes narrowed, and then his lips collided to yours, tongue demanding entry with the sureness of a tide on the shore. His nails dug into the curve of your waist, guiding your hips. Every gyration made new sparks burst to life, sizzling from your clit to the deepest parts of your body and mind that had never been so alive.
“I will never be sated,” Loki growled, thrusting faster, “Never…never.” With a rumble, he flipped you onto your back. Loki’s lips worked down the hard sinews of your neck, sucking against supple skin, palming your breasts upward. He was possessed. Loki’s name was a chant in your throat, the absence of his cock inside you becoming unbearable.
"Fuck me," you whined, and Loki looked up from where he’d been distracted with your nipple between his teeth.
“Ruined for all others,” confirmed Loki, smirking. He crawled over your body, settling his legs on either side and drawing the leaking head of himself through your sopping folds. “Beg for it.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Beg…my pretty, pretty whore.” Loki’s lips grazed across your cheek like wind through barley; a short, trembling sigh flooding your ear.
“Maybe you’re my whore, Odinson. Did you consider that?”
His thick cock twitched against your heat as he stared down at you with your perfectly styled hair mussed, your thighs spread, your lips bitten and stinging, before he whispered, “I consider everything.” Dark curls hung down either side of his jaw, framing the angle of his jawline as he licked his lips and settled into a cage around your head. The muscles of his forearms twitched with the effort of not fucking you into the mattress. The words bubbled in your throat, spilling forth before you could second guess them. “Well, if you’re my whore, then satisfy me.”
“Tell me you’re mine.” Those words shaped his tongue like summer storms. “And you will have everything you desire; always.”
You scraped hair back from his face, the beat of his heat thumping through his skin. His hips dragged against your clit, making your knees tighten around his ribs. “I’m yours,” you whispered, “Utterly.” Loki’s cock squeezed inside, and his face twisted in relief absolute. One of his hands flew to the ornate headboard; whacks of ancient wood against stone sounding with every thrust. His pubic hair dragged against your swollen clit, moans mingling with the fragrance of sweat and sex that clung to your bodies and rose like steam.
The god knew your body like you thought only you did, and every grip of his hands, shift of his hips, work of his mouth—you couldn’t catch your breath. His lust was the chop of waves, drowning you on the undertow of his strength, and scent and the hair brushing your lips as he fucked you. You never had a chance. Need scorched up your skin as climax broke. It flooded through your body, Loki’s name a rattle in your throat as his exhales of pleasure pounded in your ear. He hissed as fingernails dragged down the wide expanse of his back, the slide of his cock primal and wet, balls smacking against cum-slick skin.
The prince’s thrusts slowed, rocking you through the final threads of orgasm stringing you together. You gaped at him, heavy eyed and open mouthed as his torso rose between your legs, his palms splayed on your thighs, his abdomen flexing with every glacial, devastating thrust.
Loki’s head fell back, his black curls a sheet down the faint flush of pale skin.
The veins in his neck hardened, jaw clenched to the ceiling as deep lines settled on his brow. Your breath hitched.
Every glide of his cock was met by the gluttonous squelch of your cum. Loki rocked on his heels, guiding himself over the edge inside your perfect cunt.
“Gods,” he choked to the murals above the bed. And then, he came.
His face screwed up as the wave hit was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Loki’s groan trembled through your skin, beneath your flesh and vibrating your bones. His fingers tightened, and you knew that tomorrow your gown would hide the evidence of obsession marked in blue and purple shadows of devotion.
Devotion, you thought lazily as he gasped out the syllabled of your name and collapsed on your chest; meeting your lips with open mouthed enthusiasm.
Somewhere, a bell tolled. Loki sighed, slipping himself out of you with a mutter of irritation. He clicked his fingers, and the elaborate garb assembled on him like a blossom of ink. His lip curled. “The next time I see you, it will be in white.”
“Mmm…” “And yet they will have no clue what a fantastically depraved wretch for me that my intended is.” “I think they might know that already if the maids who caught you pleasuring me in the kitchens last week weren’t mute—and besides, perhaps they’ll just think my intended is a bad influence.”
“Gods, I hope so,” Loki murmured against your skin before biting your cheek softly, melting into a kiss. “Until tomorrow, then.” Loki drew away, his eyes serious but a small smile playing at his lips. “When you’re my wife, you shall never be rid of me.” “Gods, I hope so,” you echoed, and in the space of a heartbeat, Loki vanished.
Tags in comments! 🤗
MY JAW IS STILL ON THE FLOOR 🥵💦
Eeeee!!! 😂😂I'm so glad! I'm posting something new tonight so needed a lil confidence boost, thank you 😁😁❤️❤️❤️
I literally can’t wait to see what new content you’re about to rock my world with 😂 Pls tag me in it!!! 😍❤️ xx
LOKI AND SIGYN - FAN ART
Art by: “suzys64333“
Mine, Utterly [Loki x Reader]
A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: After making Prince Loki a little jealous, he lays down the law on the eve of an important occasion. (w/c 2.1k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Minors DNI. Dirty talk, language.
Your hands hit the mattress and grasped at the silken sheets, as if that would save you.
“My Prince,” you gasped, breaths scorching against your lungs as he ripped the chiffon around your thighs.
All you’d done was smile at the guard. Okay, maybe flirt a little…just enough to rouse the jealousy Loki had suggested with a mischievous shine in his eyes before taking his place on the Royal banqueting dais.
A palm landed on your exposed ass cheek. Crying out, you shot a glance over your shoulder. Prince Loki stood, storms in his darkened eyes, the leather belt that had been slung across his chest now dangling from a fist. "You dare to make a god jealous?"
Your stomach dropped. What if it was a test; what if he was joking? But for all his antics, the Prince wasn’t known for his humour when it came to matters of the heart—or the flesh. He didn’t share, and as that thought sank in, the knuckles on the fist whitened. You inhaled sharply, grip tightening on the sheets.
Something struck your ass again, but this time it gripped. Loki’s back was pressed to yours. The emeralds studded into the intricately constructed doublet pinched through the thin fabric of your bodice as he whispered, “Perhaps I wasn’t clear that when you are mine, you are mine; utterly.”
His knuckles trailed down your bicep, those fingers that had been wet with your cum too many times to count in palace corridors and dark corners dancing across your skin. Those digits had fastened around your wrist and torn you away from the feasting hall, his obligations forgotten, and whisked you in an explosion of green light to the candlelit expanse of your own bedroom.
Now, Loki’s cock pressed through the layers of leather and velvet covering it right into the swell of your ass. It was a familiar feeling—but he’d always resisted. Only his fingers, his tongue, his words—that was the only relief he gave you over past months since your arrival at court. Never his pleasure—never his cock.
Norns, how you wanted to fuck him; wanted to ride him until his own name scattered on the wind like ash, feel him slam into your cunt until his brilliant mind was a blur of lines like wine spilled on parchment. You wondered how your name sounded on his lips when he came: staggered, gasping, choking for mercy.
His nose drew a line up your neck, inhaling at the pulse point like a hound. “You are mine, aren’t you?” he murmured.
In answer, your hand slid up his temple and knotted into Loki’s hair. A growl built in his throat, swelling your confidence in time with the heat throbbing between your legs. “No more, and no less, than you are mine, Loki Odinson.”
His teeth sank into your shoulder, just enough to make you squirm against his cock. He spun you around, tipping your over the edge of the mattress while he towered in a silhouette of black and forest green pulsating in amber flickers.
His fingers made quick work of the laces at his groin and then, his legendary, iron cock was in his hand. It was even more perfect that you’d dreamed. A well of saliva rose indelicately beneath your tongue. Loki stroked it, back and forth, as you watched: hypnotised.
“Tonight, I will show you what it is to be mine,” he said, low and thicker than molasses on a winter’s eve. “After that, I’m afraid you will be ruined for all others…” A devilish smirk lit at the corners of his mouth. Your heart pounded as you sat up on the bed, trying frantically to untangle the dress sprawled around your hips. Loki’s knees hit the mattress.
"Allow me," he said, before ripping the dress from your body in one, swift movement.
Your eyes widened as it fluttered to the floor. Only the corset remained. "My Prince…I," you said, attempting to keep the game fluid; but Loki pressed a finger to your lips with a hush. It was still warm from the friction of his cock.
"We have talked long enough, you and I. I would very much like to fuck you…" His eyebrows rose. "I will, fuck you. I will have you; utterly."
As the final syllable melted, so did his clothes. The emerald encrusted doublet was first, then the sigils of his station, then the boots and—oh, gods—the leather trousers.
Your chest tightened at the sight of him: carved like marble, the tremor of his muscle beneath taut skin as he rested back on his heels, thighs spread, enough to make you howl. Loki’s chin dipped to his chest, unbound hair falling around his milky shoulders like hot tar over battlements. His cheekbones flashed in pulsing candlelight as he said with a touch of malice, "I will not be kept waiting. Not anymore," but his eyes glinted.
You crawled the space between you and hoisted onto his lap. With your arms around his neck, your bare cunt pressed against the throb of his flesh, you couldn’t imagine it ever not being thus. And then, you kissed him; one sliding into the next like spring into summer, like night into day.
Loki’s kisses were a medley of ravenous restraint; morphing like his magic between complete desperation and tenderness. His hands cupped your ass, scooting you further up his lap. The tip of his cock rubbed against your slit.
"I want to consume you," he whispered, lips wet from your kisses. "And you will never be anothers."
"Never." A ragged moan ripped the air as you sank onto his length. Loki’s groan of pleasure was everything you’d dreamt of—a primal flash beneath the regal façade you wanted to tear at with your bare hands. His chin tipped back, nailing you with his dilated stare as his hips pushed up.
"Loki," you gasped, clutching at his back muscle. He was huge. The Prince bottomed out, teeth clenching.
"You’ve no idea how much I craved this little cunt," he panted as your hands fisted in his hair. "How many times I’ve wanted to pin you against the wall and fuck you until all thoughts of other men were shaken from your mind forever."
The squelch of your pussy jammed with his cock punctuated every word. "How you’ve teased me, played with me; ruined me—all for the want of the Valhalla I knew would be between your legs."
Loki’s head fell back with broken cry of anguish as you clench around the root of his cock, dragging up before slamming down onto the meat of his thighs.
“Fuck, kvinne…now I find myself tricked…” he said, breathless. The god’s head rose, strands of sex damp hair plastered across his brow. "I want you more than ever."
His eyes narrowed, and then his lips collided to yours, tongue demanding entry with the sureness of a tide on the shore. His nails dug into the curve of your waist, guiding your hips. Every gyration made new sparks burst to life, sizzling from your clit to the deepest parts of your body and mind that had never been so alive.
“I will never be sated,” Loki growled, thrusting faster, “Never…never.” With a rumble, he flipped you onto your back. Loki’s lips worked down the hard sinews of your neck, sucking against supple skin, palming your breasts upward. He was possessed. Loki’s name was a chant in your throat, the absence of his cock inside you becoming unbearable.
"Fuck me," you whined, and Loki looked up from where he’d been distracted with your nipple between his teeth.
“Ruined for all others,” confirmed Loki, smirking. He crawled over your body, settling his legs on either side and drawing the leaking head of himself through your sopping folds. “Beg for it.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Beg…my pretty, pretty whore.” Loki’s lips grazed across your cheek like wind through barley; a short, trembling sigh flooding your ear.
“Maybe you’re my whore, Odinson. Did you consider that?”
His thick cock twitched against your heat as he stared down at you with your perfectly styled hair mussed, your thighs spread, your lips bitten and stinging, before he whispered, “I consider everything.” Dark curls hung down either side of his jaw, framing the angle of his jawline as he licked his lips and settled into a cage around your head. The muscles of his forearms twitched with the effort of not fucking you into the mattress. The words bubbled in your throat, spilling forth before you could second guess them. “Well, if you’re my whore, then satisfy me.”
“Tell me you’re mine.” Those words shaped his tongue like summer storms. “And you will have everything you desire; always.”
You scraped hair back from his face, the beat of his heat thumping through his skin. His hips dragged against your clit, making your knees tighten around his ribs. “I’m yours,” you whispered, “Utterly.” Loki’s cock squeezed inside, and his face twisted in relief absolute. One of his hands flew to the ornate headboard; whacks of ancient wood against stone sounding with every thrust. His pubic hair dragged against your swollen clit, moans mingling with the fragrance of sweat and sex that clung to your bodies and rose like steam.
The god knew your body like you thought only you did, and every grip of his hands, shift of his hips, work of his mouth—you couldn’t catch your breath. His lust was the chop of waves, drowning you on the undertow of his strength, and scent and the hair brushing your lips as he fucked you. You never had a chance. Need scorched up your skin as climax broke. It flooded through your body, Loki’s name a rattle in your throat as his exhales of pleasure pounded in your ear. He hissed as fingernails dragged down the wide expanse of his back, the slide of his cock primal and wet, balls smacking against cum-slick skin.
The prince’s thrusts slowed, rocking you through the final threads of orgasm stringing you together. You gaped at him, heavy eyed and open mouthed as his torso rose between your legs, his palms splayed on your thighs, his abdomen flexing with every glacial, devastating thrust.
Loki’s head fell back, his black curls a sheet down the faint flush of pale skin.
The veins in his neck hardened, jaw clenched to the ceiling as deep lines settled on his brow. Your breath hitched.
Every glide of his cock was met by the gluttonous squelch of your cum. Loki rocked on his heels, guiding himself over the edge inside your perfect cunt.
“Gods,” he choked to the murals above the bed. And then, he came.
His face screwed up as the wave hit was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Loki’s groan trembled through your skin, beneath your flesh and vibrating your bones. His fingers tightened, and you knew that tomorrow your gown would hide the evidence of obsession marked in blue and purple shadows of devotion.
Devotion, you thought lazily as he gasped out the syllabled of your name and collapsed on your chest; meeting your lips with open mouthed enthusiasm.
Somewhere, a bell tolled. Loki sighed, slipping himself out of you with a mutter of irritation. He clicked his fingers, and the elaborate garb assembled on him like a blossom of ink. His lip curled. “The next time I see you, it will be in white.”
“Mmm…” “And yet they will have no clue what a fantastically depraved wretch for me that my intended is.” “I think they might know that already if the maids who caught you pleasuring me in the kitchens last week weren’t mute—and besides, perhaps they’ll just think my intended is a bad influence.”
“Gods, I hope so,” Loki murmured against your skin before biting your cheek softly, melting into a kiss. “Until tomorrow, then.” Loki drew away, his eyes serious but a small smile playing at his lips. “When you’re my wife, you shall never be rid of me.” “Gods, I hope so,” you echoed, and in the space of a heartbeat, Loki vanished.
Tags in comments! 🤗
MY JAW IS STILL ON THE FLOOR 🥵💦
