Greetings, Loki enthusiast. Assume all writing is 18+. Individual warnings are labelled at the top of each post.
Collections
The Rite 🕯️
To secure his place in Asgard's succession, Loki must perform an ancient ceremonial rite. But it's harder to stick to the rules in the lead-up than anticipated. Much harder.
The Lakes 🍁
Based out of a tiny and remote cottage, your reluctant role as the resident 'outdoors expert' is put to the test by the frustrations and temptations of your recent ex-, Loki
The Brother Collection
Thor and Loki being ridiculous together in a collection of silly oneshots.
Hostile F*cks Collection
Loki forever finds new ways to irritate and infuriate you in a selection of erotic outfits. Why is that so goddam irresistible?
Clandestine F*cks Collection
A secret relationship in Avenger's Tower is not an easy task, but with the insatiable Loki as your lover...is it an impossible one?
Fluff Library
A collection of pure fluff drabbles.
One-Shots
The Jump (w/c 3.1k)
Two Gods, One Heart (w/c 2.4k)
The Spare (Alt version👆) (w/c 1.5k)
Only For You (w/c 1k)
Kneeling Ovation (w/c 1.4k)
Breaking Fast (w/c 1.6k)
Liberties (w/c 3.1k)
In the Bleak Midwinter (w/c 3.4k)
Mine, Utterly (w/c 2.1k)
Lies Like Liquid (w/c 2.5k)
In Your Hands (w/c 2.4k)
Clean (1.6k)
Metal & Leather (w/c 1.2k)
Delicate (w/c 1.4k)
Like A Queen (w/c 1.2k)
Distractions (w/c 1.6k)
No Mercy (1.8k)
Teenage Dream (w/c 1.9k)
Open Skies (w/c 2.2k)
Supply Closet (w/c 1.7k)
Be Mine (w.c 2.8k)
A Quiet Storm (w/c 1.2k)
Five Times (w/c 1.6k)
Believe Me (w/c 1.4k)
Peace (w/c 1.2k)
My Girl (w/c 1.8k)
Awful Things (w/c 2.8k)
A Prince's Release (1.9k)
A Lot of Boning (2.5k)
All I Need (w/c 2.1k)
An Offering (w/c 2.7k)
Slower (w/c 1.9k)
Third Date (w/c 2.4k)
Stiff (w/c 2.4k)
Husband (w/c 1.8k)
Come After Dark (w/c 3.1k)
The Quickie (w/c 2.1k)
Heirs (w/c 1.9k)
A Long Shower (w/c 2.2k)
A Gentlemen's Agreement (w/c 3.2k)
A Gentlemen's Bond (w/c 3.7k)
A Battle of Wills (w/c 1.8k)
The Prince is Dead (w/c 1.9k)
Sundress Season (w/c 3.3k)
The Urge (w/c 1.8k)
Don't Be Shy (w/c 1.9k)
Delayed Gratification (w/c 2.3k)
Deeper (w/c 2.3k)
Hail, Commander (w/c 1.6k)
The Feast (w/c 1.7k)
Size Queen (w/c 1.4k)
The Legend of Long-Dong Laufeyson (4.8k)
Drabbles
Almost Dawn (w/c 600)
Choke (w/c 350)
Deep in the Forest (w/c 750)
Throne (w/c 750)
Make me Melt (w/c 500)
Cooldown (w/c 400)
Some filth (w/c 200)
Ride Me (w/c 200)
I don't take requests, but always feel free to say hello. Reblogs, comments and shameless thirst is appreciated and encouraged😊Looking for an old favourite/collection? It will be on my
PREVIOUS MASTERLIST (2022)
Heyyyy🤗 Just a heads up that I'm alive! I wasn't planning on taking a break from tumblrland, but life had other plans😆 All is well, just stretched a bit thin at the moment and need a proper switch off in my downtime for a while.
Looking forward to catching up on all the shenanigans! See you soon ❤️ xx
A Link to my Masterlist is HERE
Summary: Captain Rogers insists you master skydiving for...reasons. His choice of teacher is unfortunate.
Warnings: Mild language. Self delulu. Mutual pining. Descriptions of skydiving. Loki being a mischievous SOB. Fluff. (w/c 3.1k)
The harness loosened in your hand, excitement forgotten.
“Steve. No. Is this a joke?”
You grabbed the Captain’s arm and yanked him away from prying ears, and those sharp, cruel, inconveniently smouldering eyes.
“Someone better be about to jump out with a camera because if this isn’t a set up I fucking quit.”
Steve’s eyebrows slanted. “Oh jeez, don’t quit! You’re the only new Agent who’s made it through the—”
“You said I’d be jumping with Natasha.”
“Laufeyson’s the best of any of us…really took to it.” He brushed the back of his hair, eyeing Loki warily.
The god was standing at the other side of the hanger, his black flysuit tight and buckled. He gave the front of his harness a decisive yank, posturing, and Steve sighed.
“Look, he dropped tandem with Bruce the first few times. And Wanda. He's good at it. More than good. The best, as much as I hate to admit it.”
“Fucking...Wanda?!” You hissed. “She can levitate, Steve. Bruce can hulk himself and survive a fall from ten thousand feet…I can’t. It doesn’t even make sense that they need to learn to skydive—”
“New regulations,” Steve said, serious. “Everyone has to—”
“Are we doing this or not?” Loki drawled across the hanger.
You took a deep breath, grip tight on the harness dangling from your fist. “Please jump with me Steve. I don’t trust him..."
You opened your eyes to the sight of Captain America with one of those smug, saccharine looks that told you this really was a set up after all. Just without the TV crew.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“I trust Laufeyson. He’s proved himself to all of us, and we know how far he’d go to keep his teammates safe.”
Steve shifted you abruptly to face Loki who was now draped over a plastic chair on the far side of the hanger, long legs languishing. “If you’re going to be a part of our team, there’s no room for doubt,'" Steve said. "You gotta trust him, Agent. You gotta trust yourself.”
It would be so easy to knee him in the balls.
You turned fractionally over your shoulder. “I’m reporting this to HR,” you mouthed, but Steve only chuckled and nudged you forward. Loki rolled his eyes and unfurled from the chair.
“Step in,” he ordered, gesturing to the harness in your white-knuckled hand. “Unless you’d like me to hold you to my chest all the way down. Your choice.” He released a dazzling—fake—smile.
You grimaced, threw the harness on the floor, kicked the thigh loops wider, and pulled it roughly over your arms.
Loki’s voice curled into your ear. “Allow me,” he purred. You hadn't even seen him move behind you.
It was followed by a yank as he tightened the straps on your shoulders, your back, your thighs. Loki’s hair was gathered back from his face in a low knot exposing the sharp lines of his face. Fading sunlight leaked over the hanger floor in long shadows, licking up the length of his legs like tar.
He straightened, and an ugly leather cap manifested in his hands.
“No,” you said. He jammed it over your ears and his long fingers made quick work of the fastening.
“For your protection, Agent.” His palm glowed green again and a pair of heinous goggles appeared.
You snatched them. “Where are your goggles?”
“I am a god. I need no goggles. Besides, they're hideous. You’re far more…perishable.”
You sighed, grabbing the long strap running across your chest. It was suffocating. “Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, and Loki gestured to the tiny plane waiting outside with a smirk. Your stomach dropped. “Where’s the pilot?”
“We don’t need a pilot.” He waved his fingers and the propellor at the nose of the aircraft whirred to life in a haze of emerald mist.
“I’m going to die,” you muttered, resigned.
Steve whistled from somewhere above. You glanced at him, America’s golden boy with a heart of coal, leaning over the balcony of the adjoining building. He gave you both a cheery salute. You began to unfold a middle finger before Loki grabbed your elbow and manoeuvred you towards the plane.
He climbed inside and stretched himself across the back of the tiny, vertical cabin.
“Where am I supposed to sit?” Despite the bite of encroaching sunset, your cheeks began to heat. You knew exactly where you were supposed to sit.
One of Loki’s brows twitched upward, and he gave his thighs two, short, slaps.
The world slowed, and the hum of the propeller seemed very far away. Loki’s other brow rose to join the first. “Let’s—what was the parlance?—get it over with, shall we?”
You cursed under your breath, ignoring the syrupy thump of your pulse, and crawled into the back of the plane. After a brief, humiliating fumble, you settled on top of the god’s thighs and tried not to think about how hard they were and how good he smelled. How his breath felt on your neck. How you wanted him to graze his teeth over the slash of exposed skin beneath your ear under the ugly leather cap.
With a flick of his hand, the plane door slammed.
“Loki…”
But his fingers clenched, and you watched in horror as the dashboard lit up. The airfield began to slide past the window.
“Don’t be nervous, Agent,” Loki said as the engine roared and your stomach lurched. His thighs shifted beneath you.
There was something different in his voice, or rather, absent: snark.
“We’ll be rising to ten thousand feet, which I can measure on this watch.” He moved his wrist in front of your face. “I can, of course, sense such things. But Satchel’s frigid regulations state I must wear this contraption.”
“Why do you call him Satchel?”
A small puff of amusement erupted against your neck. “It’s a long story. And not one he’d thank me for telling you.”
You shifted, hyper-aware of the slip between your thighs beneath the jumpsuit. “What happens when we get to the right height?”
“You know what happens. You’ve done everything but the act itself.”
“I know…I want to hear you say it.”
“Do you think I’ll abandon you and summon Heimdall to suck me through the Bifrost?”
Your stomach lurched higher. “I do now…”
Loki laughed again—but it was softer, sweeter. “At the risk of sounding cliché, Agent, you’ll just have to take my word I won’t.”
His word. His word was turning your cereal into sawdust. His word was positioning it so that in every paparazzi shot taken of your leaving Avengers training over the past six months it looked like he was grabbing your ass. His word was the thinly veiled jibes that made you feel like you might explode; the way his dimples flashed at the most inopportune times, and the way you were desperate to feel the texture of his black curls with your fingertips.
Focus.
There was a clunk as Loki fastened one of his harness buckles to yours.
“Seven thousand,” he murmured after several minutes, and cleared his throat. He shifted beneath you, hips lifting. It made a lance of arousal flash through your insides.
“The door will open at ten thousand feet, and you will shuffle ever-so-elegantly towards it.” You turned fractionally, catching the back end of his smirk. “Hang your legs over the side, cross your arms, arch your back, press your feet to the underside of the plane. You’ll feel my hand press against your forehead. And remember, Agent, keep your eyes open.”
“Why?”
“So you can take one last look at my impossibly handsome face before plummeting to your death, of course.”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t.” The words were velvet dipped in wine, and you didn’t correct him. If this was one of your last moments, you didn’t want to spend it with Loki knowing he was right.
“Nine thousand,” Loki said quietly.
“Why did you agree to this? What happened to Natasha?”
“Agree? Agent, I volunteered.”
Despite the sweetness in his voice, your nerves flared. “Uh—why?”
“Because you don’t trust me. And nothing irks me more than that.”
You twisted to catch his eyes; buckles on your conjoined harnesses straining. “No, it doesn’t. You love that shit.”
Loki’s brows slanted. “Do I?” he asked, the picture of innocence. “Goodness. Well… who knows why I’m doing it, then. Put those heinous goggles on. Ten thousand.”
“Loki, I swear to—”
The plane door snapped open, and you screamed.
“Goggles. Time to go.”
You fumbled with the goggles. “Loki…”
“Go. Now. Shuffle that lovely arse out of this plane, Agent, or so help me—”
“Fine!”
You scraped yourself over the small section of floor and stared out at the cloudless amber sky. It was a beautiful evening. It would be your last. You could barely breathe against the frigid air as your legs fell over the side and all other thoughts blurred.
“I have you, Agent,” Loki murmured behind you, barely audible over the thick roar of air, and out of the corner of your eye you saw his long fingers tighten around the doorframe. “Now get into position for me…that’s it.”
Your stomach dropped; heart hammering and pulse crawling in your throat like it was alive. You did as he asked, and in seconds, the flat of your feet were pressed to the underside of the plane.
I’m going to die, you thought. And then another in the backwind. I’m going to die with Loki holding me. That wasn’t quite so bad.
Not ideal, sure.
But not as bad.
Any second now, you’d be in freefall. Moments dragged past as Loki’s hard body pressed against your back, his thighs slotted at your sides, his hand cupping your forehead, pulling it back, and then….
All the breath left your lungs in one desperate gasp.
The world spun in shades of orange and fading blue and white and shards of Loki’s dark hair falling across your vision. And then, you were facing down and screaming, and screaming.
One, two, three…
Virginian fields stretching around the complex for miles stared back at you. They didn’t appear to be getting any closer as pressure forced up against your cheeks, your stomach, your soul.
Seven, eight, nine….
The compound was a dot.
Loki’s touch jabbed into your shoulder and you spread your arms; hurtling further into the vast everything below. It tasted like salt, and winter frosted mornings, and somehow the unmistakeable hint of Loki’s custom cologne bit through the brittle air.
Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…
Something inside you thrashed.
The parachute should have deployed by now.
You grasped for Loki’s hand to check if he was still there—that the Bifrost hadn’t taken him—but he was, and over the howl of hurtling air, you could swear he was laughing.
Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…
The parachute should have opened at eleven.
Twenty-one…
“Lo—” you howled against the weight of wind as the compound grew closer, and bigger. And then, you were yanked upwards.
His name strangled in your throat, and his lips brushed the tip of your ear.
“I always knew you’d be a screamer,” he said, and wrenched the parachute handle to the side. The world lurched to the right, the horizon spinning. “You can’t blame me for wanting to enjoy it a little longer.”
You kicked backward and hit his shin. “Ow,” he said, but you could hear the smile in his voice.
“You think I’m going to trust you after this? You absolute wanker.”
“Wanker? That’s a new one. I must add it to my growing litany.”
Despite yourself, you laughed. “I hate you.” Your heartrate slowed, and the countryside was bathed in shades of molten gold.
“You don’t,” Loki said, and tipped the parachute towards the compound’s inner fields.
The two of you slid to the grass and scraped to a halt in a heap with Loki’s legs spread on either side of your body. You unfastened the leather cap and goggles, and tossed them to the ground. He was smiling, one brow cocked.
“I’m waiting,” he said, and unclasped his harness from yours.
Your cheeks burned as you sat up from his chest. “Thank you, I guess.”
“For?”
“Keeping me alive.”
Loki’s smile widened. “A pleasure, Agent. You were never in any danger. And if it makes you feel any better, should disaster have struck, I would have ensured Heimdall took you too.”
He looked so beautiful like this: propped up on his elbows as the emerald green parachute swirled and settled behind him, his milky skin bathed in pink and gold, and the rumpled waves of black surrounding his perfect face like a wreath.
Oh no.
The truth smacked you in the face with sudden, pummelling clarity.
It wasn’t Loki you didn’t trust.
You didn’t trust yourself with Loki.
It wasn’t until a finger curled beneath your chin and nudged it up that you’d realised you’d been staring at his thighs. “Agent…” he murmured, like the ripple of grass.
Your breath caught as you asked, “Why did you really volunteer?”
Loki frowned faintly, his hand falling to his side and his gaze dropping momentarily to your lips. “Because,” he said, measuring himself. “I didn’t trust anyone else to keep you safe.”
You opened your mouth and closed it again, stunned.
“Oh look…” Loki observed bitterly, “Here comes Satchel.” He gave the meaty dot which was Steve jogging from the compound a cheerless wave.
And then a hand was hooked under Loki’s harness. A hand which looked very much like yours but couldn’t possibly be.
His eyes widened for a moment before your lips crushed together and he fell backwards to the grass with a muted sigh of surprise. The kiss slid into urgency; one breathless murmur to the next. Your fingers slid into his tangled hair, memorising the texture of each strand, memorising the taste of his tongue and the warmth of his need.
“Agent…” he murmured into your mouth, before nudging you upright just as Steve crested the hill.
“Golly—that was a tight drop, Laufeyson. Great for stealth ops, but I sure imagine your partner didn’t appreciate it, huh?” He eyed you nervously, forcing a chuckle.
Loki’s saliva was still wet on your lips.
“I trusted him,” you said, meeting Loki’s smile with your own. And beside him, Steve beamed. He extended a hand and helped you up from between Loki’s legs with a wobble. “I’ll stay and help with the chute,” you added, brushing yourself off. “It’s fine, honestly.”
Steve looked dubious.
As he disappeared down the hill towards the compound, Loki rose.
“Audacious, Agent. You must truly trust me after all—how do you know I won’t ravish you under the gathering dark?”
His eyes were spreading pools of mischievous darkness; only slim sapphire rings on the edge of black.
“I’m counting on it,” you said, before the two of your stumbled backwards into a sea of rippling green.
A link to my Masterlist is HERE
Summary: Loki tries to sneak into bed. Short, sweet, smutty.
Warnings: 18+ only. Established relationship. Minors DNI. w/c 630
“Are you awake, love?”
You nestle deeper into the pillow, and a smile creeps over your lips like the dawn.
“Kinda…” you say, muffled.
The mattress dips as he slips between the sheets and a large, cool hand travels over your waist to the centre of your stomach. He presses his chest to your back. “I missed you.”
You twist your head and find his lips in the dark. “Did everything go alright?”
“Mmm.” Loki presses a kiss to the curve of your neck and your whole body tingles. “I came straight from the bifrost. I may be a little cold, I’m sorry.”
“I’ll warm you up.” You push your ass against his crotch.
“Don’t tempt me, Mortal.”
You bite your lip, stifling a laugh as Loki’s cock hardens beneath the press of your flesh.
“I heard that,” he whispers, and drags himself through the gap of your ass cheeks. “But fortunately for you, retribution for your mischief will be merciful, tonight.”
You frown, and crane back. “You’re too tired?”
Unthinkable.
Only the faintest outline of Loki is visible: hair tied up in a knot, the angular lines of his face cutting though the darkness.
“A little.” But he thrusts gently against your ass all the same. “I wouldn’t be providing the worship you’re accustomed to—and that simply isn’t acceptable. It's almost dawn. Go back to sleep.”
You draw your lips over his, relishing the heat of his breath despite the chill of his skin and the metallic scorch of magic which clings to it.
“I just want to be near you.” You reach between your bodies and grip his cock, pumping the crown gently. Loki groans. “Please?”
Loki’s mouth latches to the curve of your neck and you fall back to the pillow. His cock rubs over the slip of your sex, the long column of flesh skating through your folds and rubbing over your clit. The pretty moans Loki adores flutter from your lips as he draws his manhood back, lingers, and then slides it inside you. You gasp his name as he stills.
“Clench…” he murmurs into your neck, and you do. A groan catches in his throat. It makes you squirm against him, but Loki holds you still. “You wanted to be near me. Is this not close enough?”
His hand cups your breast, and a thread of desire flares directly to your cunt as he brushes a fingertip over the nipple. “Clench,” he orders softly. The purr is waves scraping shells. “Good. Circle.”
“Loki…” you whimper, circling your hips tightly against the flat of his stomach.
Ordinarily he would be plunging himself into you like a symphony: calculated highs and lows which flow to the rhythm of your need. But there’s something impossibly erotic about his woozy breaths —about the god’s lazy sigh as you bring the crown of his perfect cock to the lip of your channel and dip it, before pushing back once more. His contentment is a chorus of praise, beautiful in its filth, and as his thighs tense, you slow—an attempt to edge him.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls.
Loki curls to your back and slips his hand between your legs. The skilful fingers tug at your clit—once, twice, and on the third, you explode. The force of your tense spills Loki over the edge, and heavy breaths filling the bedroom as the two of you tumble through climax.
You turn your head as the panting subsides, kissing the soft skin beneath his eye.
“I missed you,” you whisper, but as you try to slid his cock free from your body, he pulls you closer.
“Don’t let me go,” he says. “Not yet.”
“Never.”
His smile grows against your skin as the first chink of dawn spills through the crack in the curtains. He catches your lips with a final, tender thrust inside you, his body radiating the same warmth as the beat of the heart thumping between your shoulder-blades.
I read this Loki x reader fic or drabble a while ago, in which Loki is giving the reader head in the avengers kitchen and tells her he won't stop when if Tony Stark walks in, or something along those lines... But I can not for the life of me remember the name of it. I feel like it could have been yours, but I can't find it 😭 I feel like I'm going mad ,maybe I imagined it. But if it does happen to be a writing of yours and you remember the titles, please tell me, thanks so much!! Sorry for the rant 🤣
Oh lord 😂 the only thing I can think of at the moment is this which is a very old drabble.
The whole Stark thing does ring a bell though....but I could be mixing it up with the many, many times reader has been in that situation in various locations in CF/HF😆 sorry anon!
Professor Laufeyson’s words– something about ancient Asgardian customs– floated past her ears without registering, her mind too occupied with the red F blazing like a brand on the paper she couldn’t stop looking at. She’d never gotten an F before. Never. A swell of emotion began to build in her throat, a threat of tears brewing.
Charlotte forced her gaze upward. Professor Laufeyson stood at the front of the room engrossed in his own story, explaining rules of the Asgardian court, a reverent smile on his gorgeous face. Charlotte felt the anger building.
The F was a mistake. It had to be. She’d spent too many hours on that paper, combing through every resource she could find. She’d even managed to cite two obscure dissertations she’d found buried in the library database.
After he had returned their papers, the remainder of the class felt like forever. Charlotte gave up any pretense of taking notes, as an internal war began to build around how to speak to him about this after class. She desperately wanted to rage and scream at him. Conceding to the reality of the situation– that she needed to get this conversation right, and not risk her future– she swallowed the rage and tears.
Instead, she began mentally rehearsing what she would say to Professor Laufeyson after class. She’d be calm. Professional. She’d appeal to his sense of fairness and academic integrity. Surely he would see reason.
The lecture concluded and her teacher dismissed the class with a thoughtful smile and sat at his desk, gathering his work. A loose curl fell slightly over his forehead in an effortlessly elegant disarray. Damn him, why did he always have to look so amazing? Couldn’t he have an “off day” so she wouldn’t be distracted while she confronted him?
“What’s the matter with you?,” Ryan whispered, looking at Charlotte with concern as he pointed to her leg, which she had been bouncing anxiously.
“Huh?,” she realized, surprised by her own fidgeting. She forced her leg to still, though her fingers began their own dance, tapping out a silent melody of anxiety upon her desk.
“Oh… um… so I’m going to talk to Professor Laufeyson about this ‘F’ after class,” she murmured, noting the professor’s fleeting glance in their direction.
“Are you nuts?,” he asked, shaking his head as he stuffed his laptop into his expensive leather bag.
“What do you mean?”
“Seriously? He’s an asshole,” Ryan said, his voice gaining volume as more students filtered out of the room. “And do you want ‘F’s for the rest of the semester? It’ll totally bring down your GPA!”
Charlotte winced at his increasing volume, glancing nervously toward the front of the room as she gathered her things. “Keep your voice down,” she hissed.
“I’m just saying,” Ryan continued, only marginally quieter, “the guy has a reputation. Three complaints to the department head last semester alone. He made my friend’s sister cry during an office hours appointment.”
“Well, it was a great paper and I think if I approach this maturely-”
“Oh, and tell him he’s wrong?” Ryan snorted, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The classroom had nearly emptied now.
“No, just…” Charlotte hesitated, a flicker of doubt clouding her judgement for just a moment. But Charlotte was not one to back down– not when it came to her passion, her future. “...I don’t know, plead my case or something. Prove to him I really care– maybe he won’t be such an asshole?”
Ryan’s laugh was sharp and disbelieving. “Right, because the god of mischief is known for his compassion and understanding.”
“This is important to me, Ryan,” Charlotte insisted, her voice quieter but firm. “I’ve never gotten an F in my entire college career. Not once. And I’m not about to start now, especially not when I know this paper deserved at least a B.”
“Well, that’s a dumb idea, but you do you, I guess,” Ryan shrugged as he stood up from his desk. His expression softened slightly as he looked down at her, his brown eyes warm despite his dismissive words. “Good luck!” he added with a playful salute before walking out of the room.
Charlotte stood, feeling wobbly as she mentally prepared to confront Professor Laufesyson. “An entitled prince,” she reminded herself, trying to strip the man before her of the power he wielded with a stroke of his pen. And former god. An incredibly sexy former god.
Stop that.
Charlotte took a deep breath. It was now or never. She needed to be firm yet fair, to present her case with clarity and conviction.
Just be calm, collected– and don’t show that he’s getting to me.
Loki watched Charlotte approach his desk, noting the tension in her shoulders, the determined set of her jaw. Her normal cheerful demeanour had been replaced by something else, and he felt a small thrill of anticipation.
“Professor Laufeyson,” Charlotte said, her voice firm but obviously nervous. “I need to speak with you about my grade.”
“Miss Baker,” he replied, allowing a small smile to play at the corners of his mouth. “I had a feeling I'd be seeing you today.” He leaned back in his chair, curious to see how this was going to play out.
“I don’t deserve to fail, and I think you know that.” She placed the paper down on the desk in front of him, her hand betraying a slight tremor despite the strength in her voice. “This was a good– no, great– paper.”
Loki regarded her with calculated indifference, allowing the silence to stretch between them for a moment. Power, after all, often resided in the spaces between words. “Hmm,” he finally murmured, glancing at the paper without picking it up, “and why do you think this paper does not deserve a failing grade?”
The question hung in the air, deceptively simple yet layered with challenge. He watched the emotions play across her face– indignation, frustration, determination. A charge of energy propelled through his veins, anticipating a battle.
“You know my paper was better than everyone else’s!,” Charlotte asserted, her voice rising slightly.
Loki raised an eyebrow, his interest genuinely piqued now. “And why do you think that?” he asked, his voice cooling several degrees. “Do you think you’re special? Better than everyone else in the class?,” he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk as he looked up at her.
“I–no–I just–,” she faltered. “I put everything into that paper.” The admission seemed to cost her something, a vulnerability she hadn’t intended to reveal.
“Next time, do better,” he replied dismissively.
“Is this because of what I said in the coffee shop?” The question burst from her lips, her eyes widening slightly as if surprised by her own boldness.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” Loki lied smoothly, his face a perfect mask of polite confusion covering the fact that he was really enjoying this.
The lie hit its mark. Charlotte’s expression transformed, indignation flaring into something hotter, more dangerous. “Oh, I bet you do!!” she exclaimed, her voice raised. “And that’s why you’re being such an asshole! You just can’t stand that I talked to you like a normal human!!”
“Professor, I did extra research and you still failed me!” Charlotte continued, her words tumbling out faster now. “This is bullshit– you are wrong, and you KNOW IT!,” she pointed towards his chest aggressively.
Loki felt a wicked smile begin to curl at his lips. She really had an awful temper. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, marking seconds that stretched like minutes. His eyes narrowed as his gaze sharpened, focused entirely on the flushed, defiant woman before him. He rose from his chair, a slow and deliberate movement that emphasized his height, displaying the way he towered over her smaller frame.
But something unexpected happened as he stood to his full height, looking down at Charlotte with her eyes bright with righteous fury, her chest rising and falling with quickened breath. A surge of arousal, sudden and unwelcome, coursed through his body.
Norns how he wanted to bend her over this desk and fuck her. The conflict within him mounted rapidly, a war between physical desire and professional obligation.
“You are on dangerous ground, Miss Baker,” his voice unwittingly lowered, to his dismay.
“I know this is just a game to you, but this is my career. My livelihood. You can’t do this to people. I studied my ass off, like I’ve done for my entire college career. I work hard, Professor,” her expression changed, sadder now.
A weight settled in his chest, cooling the heat of his lust. Behind the anger in Charlotte’s eyes, he saw something that struck an unexpected chord within him– the desperate need to be seen, to be acknowledged. Guilt began to creep into his mind, the reality of the situation in front of him revealing that he’d gone too far.
A regretful sigh escaped, as he slowly walked around the desk towards Charlotte. This was a mistake, he shouldn’t have done this.
“Perhaps I was unjust,” he admitted quietly, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.
Charlotte’s expression changed, clearly startled by his sudden shift. The fire in her eyes didn’t dim, but confusion joined it, her brow furrowing slightly.
“Sit, Miss Baker,” he gestured to the nearest chair in front of him.
Sitting on the edge of his desk, he folded his arms and stretched his legs out in front of himself, ignoring the growing heat inside of him– he needed to be professional, act like the teacher he was expected to be. He caught Charlotte stealing a glance at his poised figure, her eyes tracing the line from his impeccably polished shoes up to his face.
“There are times that I forget that some of you students care, and that these grades may actually be important. I suggest that the two of us move on from how we initially met. It’s not doing either of us any favors. I will review your paper again with a different perspective,” he said calmly.
Charlotte said nothing, only looked into his eyes with an intensity he tried to ignore.
“In the future, I expect you to temper your rage, and attempt a less combative attitude in my classroom. That means no more calling me an asshole,” he smirked with familiarity.
“Yes, Professor,” Charlotte replied, glancing down at the desk top, obviously embarrassed by her behavior.
“Truce?,” she asked playfully as she looked back into his eyes, warmth replacing her rage.
“Truce,” Loki replied, suppressing the carnal feelings that were brewing again.
He stood back up, walking back towards his bag as he prepared to leave. “Good afternoon, Miss Baker,” he dismissed her.
“Good afternoon, Professor. Thank you,” she smiled at him sincerely, and made her way out of the classroom.
Loki swiftly walked through his foyer, and with a practiced flick, his keys spiraled through the air, landing with a clink on the mahogany side table. He had spent his whole drive home thinking about Charlotte. Here she was again, invading his thoughts with her beautiful eyes and that infuriating habit of challenging him when no one else dared. His guilt over their confrontation gnawed at him, but it paled in comparison to the more insistent throbbing in his pants. He was so hard.
The house was silent around him, and he could almost hear the blood pulsing in his veins, each heartbeat punctuating the thoughts of her that danced provocatively through his thoughts.
He quickly made his way to his bedroom, unbuckling his pants as he walked into the shadows. The dim light offered a sanctuary, and he relished in the darkness consuming his view. He laid down on his large bed with determination to relieve this pressure, this lewd ache that was inside of him.
She didn’t back down. She stood up to him and called him names in his classroom. She was fiery, and he liked it. While at first she merely irritated him, he now felt his whole body alight with something new, a flame ignited where only embers had smoldered for far too long. The way she had bent over and pointed her finger at him angrily had caused an involuntary shudder through him, and a wave of arousal he hadn’t expected.
“Once,” he whispered into the darkness, a promise or a plea, he wasn’t certain, as he released his pulsing cock from its confines, the cool air of the room kissing his heated skin. His hand appeared pale against his flushed girth, the head engorged and glistening, begging for attention. His thumb moved in slow, deliberate circles over the swollen tip, causing his hips to buck with each touch, and a moan slipped out as he gave in to his own desperation.
Would it be so bad if he slept with her?
You can’t fuck the students. They explicitly told you that when you were in training.
Loki chuckled to himself as his length throbbed, the rebellion itself an aphrodisiac. Of course he’d be attracted to a student.This was simultaneously the best and worst thing that could happen. A temptation, a change in this monotonous life. The hunger within him stirred, a restless beast prowling the confines of his soul. It was desire, pure and unadulterated, mingled with the tang of danger.
Oh this is bad, he thought to himself as he spit in his hand, smothering his cock in it while he rhythmically pumped himself. His eyes closed as he thought about Charlotte.
She wanted him– he could smell it on her during their confrontation. The heady scent of her arousal that lingered was etched in his memory, driving his urge to fuck.
If they were to get caught, he could be fired. His cock twitched again at the thrill of a secret affair. That could be so fun.
Loki’s mind flashed with images of how he’d make her suck his cock in his office. She’d beg to choke on him while he pulled her hair and cursed above her. The very idea made his heart pound faster with a feral excitement. The vision crystalized in his mind’s eye– Charlotte on her knees, her pouty pink lips wrapped around him…
His breathing grew more labored as his hand worked faster, the wet sounds of his self-pleasure obscenely loud in the quiet bedroom. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, dampening the roots of his silken hair. His body heat was trapped in his Armani suit, the temperature around him seeming to rise every minute.
Loki’s eyes screwed tighter, his mental visions of the ways he’d want to fuck Charlotte vibrant in his mind. Gripping his free hand in his expensive sheets, he lost himself to his lurid fantasy, panting like a wild beast.
He would show his student who’s in charge, and she would comply. She’d beg him to tell her what to do. She could be his secret plaything. No one would know. The power he would have over her aroused Loki in ways that hadn’t been felt in a long time. She was so defiant, and he wanted to fuck that out of her. A challenge.
The idea of her, so strong-willed and resistant, bending to his command stirred something inside of him. “You’ll learn,” he puffed through gritted teeth, “what it means to yield.”
Loki’s hand moved faster now, his control beginning to slip as his pleasure mounted. The tight coil in his abdomen wound even tighter, while his cock throbbed in his hand, hot and heavy and demanding.
Loki thought of fucking her on his office desk, her clothes ripped from her body as he pounded into her from above. She’d cry out in ecstasy as he plunged himself fiercely inside of her. Her legs would wrap around him, pulling him deeper in her tight cunt, craving every hot inch of him as he claimed her with each forceful thrust. She would no longer be just a defiant student who challenged him; she’d be his vessel of pleasure, begging for release, begging for him. She’d scream his name like a little whore just for him.
“You’ll take what I give you…”, he growled to himself in the dark, his thighs tensing. His abs clenched as his hips bucked in time with the pumping of his thick cock, swollen and seeping precum, desperate for release. The pressure began to build as his balls tightened, and he knew he was going to come soon.
Loki’s breath came in short, sharp pants now, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat droplets gathered in the hollow of his throat before sliding down his clothed chest. His hand moved faster, the rhythm becoming erratic as his control slipped away. Every muscle in his body seemed to contract at once, poised for the moment of release as his back arched. His cock throbbed painfully in his hand, so engorged and sensitive that each stroke was both pleasure and torment.
And he would come all over her– coat her in his seed. His warm cum would drip all over her naked body as she panted and begged him for more. She’d be marked as his. Only for him to fuck and take his frustrations out on whenever he wanted.
In the fog of pleasure, he felt every synapse in his body fire at once. Loki’s body went rigid, his hand tightening around his cock in a punishing grip as a sudden eruption of pleasure burst throughout his body. A feral groan ripped through his chest as he felt a powerful orgasm rip through him.
"FUUCK–," he gasped, surprised at how quickly he came.
With each new spasm, another surge of cum burst from him, dripping down his tense hand. He rode the crest of his orgasm with wild abandon, milking the pulses for every last drop until the desire faded to a lingering, throbbing ache.
Loki was left panting, chest heaving as he tried to suck air back into his lungs. For several seconds, he simply laid there– spent, sticky, and gloriously empty, his hand still loosely wrapped around the softening length of his cock.
As his breathing slowed, he looked down at the cum splattered on his finely tailored clothes. He’d made a mess of himself.
His eyes closed as he laid there for a few moments, curious to see if his cravings had been satisfied. Even in his afterglow, he still wanted her. Craved to defile her.
This is definitely not ideal, he thought to himself.
For the first time in what felt like ages, the former god of mischief felt a flutter of a spark. Excitement. Danger. The thrill of the forbidden sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn’t help but entertain the thought: is this what his restlessness craved?
Charlotte stood, feeling wobbly as she mentally prepared to confront Professor Laufesyson. “An entitled prince,” she reminded herself, trying to strip the man before her of the power he wielded with a stroke of his pen. And former god. An incredibly sexy former god.
Like...Charlotte is so relatable to me I can barely breathe 😂
But then
Then
Aaaaa
“Once,” he whispered into the darkness, a promise or a plea, he wasn’t certain, as he released his pulsing cock from its confines, the cool air of the room kissing his heated skin.
😜😜😜😜😜
You know I am a full out binbag hoe for a luxurious, angst ridden wank and by GODDDD you delivered. Fucking fabulous. It is like a bajillion degrees here today and I am DEHYDRATED i want to run around the room but I CANT PEACHY I CANT😂😂😂
After the events in New York in 2012, Loki is banished to Earth and forced to repay society by taking a mortal job. He begins teaching A Study in Asgardian History and Culture at an elite American east coast university. While he tries to walk his "good" path on Earth, his will is challenged when he meets an eager and headstrong student, Charlotte. Will he be able to resist indulging in his innermost desires with her? (Hint: he won't 😂)
Rating: Mature/Explicit
Author's Notes: The majority of this is horny AF. I wanted to write some filthy Professor!Loki smutfics and decided to try writing a whole romance story.
