Welcome! You can call me A! Pretty much just going back to my 15yo self's interests at 25 years old. Clearly that bitch knew what she was about. •Marvel• •Dan and Phil• •MUSIC SO MUCH MUSIC• •Amy Winehouse I love you• •Writing• •Being bad at arts and crafts• I'm Queer as the name implies so don't like it then fuck off. This blog is 18+
Steve "I have two two left feet" Rogers and Bucky "I'll die again before I give up on teaching you how to dance" Barnes. It's a battle of two stubborn idiots
It's a random day on a random week when Bucky takes Steve's hands, not even giving him a chance to protest before starting
"If I was going to hit you right here, where would you put your feet to dodge?"
Confused but demonstrating regardless, Steve is left to follow instructions
"I'm hit, I'm falling this way, where are you going to put your hand to hold me up?"
Steve holding Bucky by the waist and shoulder to sway him to the side
"A bullet is coming this way, hold my had get me out of the way."
Steve holding Bucky's hand and pulling him close while Bucky twirls and wraps Steve arm around himself. By then Steve's confusion is giving way to a smile as he holds Bucky
"The floor is filled with traps and they're going to come out of here, here, here, and here. Dodge them in order."
"We're holding hands but something is gonna hit. Step back to let it shoot through between us, then pull me back in."
"I'm pulling a knife on you, take my hand to stop me and redirect it this way."
"Pull your legs like you're going to kick here. Yeah, like that."
"Dip back, then step forward like you're avoiding falling off the edge."
"Okay, hold my waist ike I'm fainting and you're keeping me up. Yeah, yeah, dipping."
And before Steve knows it, in the course of a week and a half, he's dancing like he's born to do it and having an UNBELIEVABLE amount of fun doing it
And now Steve is the one putting the music on and pulling Bucky up to dance in the middle of the living room while both of them laugh like they haven't had in the last 80 years
Bucky: We have a problem. A recent survey showed the morale has dropped from low, which we were okay with, to I’d like to burn this place down... which, frankly, I’m surprised was one of the options.
Okay so um... It was a bit more than 10 hours, but in my defence I fell asleep.
✨Anyway✨
Bucky Barnes V Halter Necks
Part 1
Warnings:
Very light smut, dirty thoughts, light dirty talk, Bucky is a boob man.
Very much un-beta'd
I am still new to writing, so be nice. Likes are cool, comments are amazing!
Thanks for reading!
Bucky Barnes was anything but a simple man.
He'd lived through a world war. Had been brainwashed and turned into a killing machine. Was given a metal arm and an ocean of trauma, that he waded through more often than not.
He's over 100 years old and looks in his thirties, for Christs sake. That's anything but simple!
So yeah, he was not a simple man.
No way.
Well...
That was true...
Until his eyes landed on your dress.
Well not quite the dress.... The halter top.
Bucky became a very simple man once his eyes laid upon that.
His cheeks tinged the lightest of pinks.
His throat became dry.
His heart almost stopped beating altogether.
It wasn't his fault really, when you think about it.
You just looked so fucking hot.
Your curves, which he had never seen outlined before, were hugged nicely. Very nicely. (And other things were on display more than he'd ever seen).
Bucky was starting to feel something of his own being hugged nicely, by his jeans.
Shit.
He needed to stop looking before he came in his pants like a damn teenager.
But he just couldn't pull his eyes away.
Not from how the straps -tucked so neatly behind your neck- framed your chest perfectly.
How the A-line showed the tops of your soft tits.
How they bounced as you laughed....
He throbbed.
Bucky had to stop looking. Now.
Impossible.
Illegal probably.
But then—
"Bucky, thank god!" A voice called to him,
His eyes peeled away from your tits and to the source of the voice. He didn't need to move his eyes far.
Bucky managed to croak out a weak,
"Hey, Dolly."
His eyes moved down again then back to your face.
Your tits were coming closer, oh god,
Danger
Danger
Danger
His brain exclaimed.
But Bucky was not thinking with his brain.
"I've been waiting for you, where've you been?" You ask him, relief making you more relaxed. More settled.
Bucky noticed how your breathing slowed, deeper breaths lasting longer now. Don't ask him how.
He also noticed his pants getting tighter.
You looked at him expectantly.
His brain fumbled.
Shit. Your question!
"I, um, I—what? Oh! Yeah, uh, Sam told me I was dressed like a hobo and made me change about three times." Bucky chuckled, distress still covert enough to get him by.
"Aw man, I missed hobo Bucky? Worst night of my life!" You joked, mock stomping your foot.
"Tell me about it" Bucky murmured, eyes roaming whilst he had the chance, his hand nonchalantly moved downwards, trying to fix his not so little problem.
His jeans were still tight. Tighter maybe.
He held back the groan that almost slipped past his teeth.
Buckys eyes roamed for a moment too long, up and down. Lingering happily in all the places they could.
When he looked up, he caught your eyes.
You'd caught him.
Staring.
At you.
Shit.
Bucky looked like a deer caught in headlights. A kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, almost disbelief at his own stupidity.
His heart raced. He was ready for you to slap him in the face, pour your drink on him as you called him a perv. Anything.
But you didn't.
You looked away. Your shoulders drawing forwards. Head tilted down. Face flat.
Disappointment.
Even worse.
"Dolly, 'm sorry, I didn't mean any—" he began
"It's fine," You huffed out, "Everybody's been staring. Think they forgot there's a girl under the tactical suit."
Oh.
You hadn't been disappointed at him looking at your perfect tits. Hadn't even noticed.
You'd seen him scanning your dress... And had felt judged.
He had to fix this, whilst not looking at your tits. Your perfect, beautiful tits he could just smoosh his face into and kiss all over and—
Focus Barnes!
Bucky took a deep breath, trying to centre his attention on anything but his own thoughts.
"Hey," Bucky stepped closer, trying to catch your eyeline, "'m not shocked and I definitely didn't forget about the woman under the tactical suit," .
You look up at him, eyes watering just slightly. Cheeks tinged the same shade of pink, but blotchier.
The thoughts he has, he needs to go to a confession booth. No. They might send him to hell where his sinful thoughts belong.
But the way you looked at him?
Made him throb even more.
He tried his best to hold in a groan.
"...I mean— Why does everybody keep staring?" You say, eyes still watery. Your face looks exhausted.
Bucky makes a mental note to kick himself for not listening, for not noticing you even started talking to him.
But the question makes him smirk.
Why is everybody staring?
Because you're fucking hot.
Because you look like my midnight snack.
Because they all want to take you home.
That's what he wants to say.
His smirk only grows.
Your brow furrows, "What? Is there something wrong?"
Buckys still in his thoughts (or thots). Ears now decoration only.
Even your frown is hot.
Your hands on your hips, leaning forward slightly.
Perfect view.
Were you doing this on purpose?
"James!" You were getting agitated now, ready to rip Bucky a new asshole if he didn't tell you what was wro—
Bucky made a sound.
Did he... Just... Moan?
No. No!
But...
Yes?
Your eyes widened.
"Ja— Bucky!" You whisper yelled, your cheeks now red instead of pink.
Buckys cheeks were the same colour.
You looked him up and down, trying to figure out just what was going on. And then you saw it. The tent in his pants.
"Oh." You breathed.
Buckys cheeks had turned an even darker shade of red. Scarlet. His face could be a mood ring from all the colours it was turning.
Finally buckys brain caught up to him. (The blood had to start rushing somewhere else at some point, right?)
"Dolly, I'm— I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to— it's just that, Well, your dress is— Shit. It's not your fault. I'm just— I'm so fucking sorry Dolly." Bucky rambled.
You on the other hand, were eerily quiet.
Is this why everybody kept staring?
Because you were.... Hot?
"...It'll never happen again, I swear it.." Bucky continues, panicking clearly
Hot enough that a super soldier was moaning at you for chastising at him?
This was an unexpected turn of events.
You smirked.
Turned your head.
Innocent look on your face.
Bucky stopped talking five seconds ago. Clearly scared for himself.
"Well, now I know why everybody was staring at me, I suppose. Right James?" You say, looking devilishly sweet.
Okay so um... It was a bit more than 10 hours, but in my defence I fell asleep.
✨Anyway✨
Bucky Barnes V Halter Necks
Part 1
Warnings:
Very light smut, dirty thoughts, light dirty talk, Bucky is a boob man.
Very much un-beta'd
I am still new to writing, so be nice. Likes are cool, comments are amazing!
Thanks for reading!
Bucky Barnes was anything but a simple man.
He'd lived through a world war. Had been brainwashed and turned into a killing machine. Was given a metal arm and an ocean of trauma, that he waded through more often than not.
He's over 100 years old and looks in his thirties, for Christs sake. That's anything but simple!
So yeah, he was not a simple man.
No way.
Well...
That was true...
Until his eyes landed on your dress.
Well not quite the dress.... The halter top.
Bucky became a very simple man once his eyes laid upon that.
His cheeks tinged the lightest of pinks.
His throat became dry.
His heart almost stopped beating altogether.
It wasn't his fault really, when you think about it.
You just looked so fucking hot.
Your curves, which he had never seen outlined before, were hugged nicely. Very nicely. (And other things were on display more than he'd ever seen).
Bucky was starting to feel something of his own being hugged nicely, by his jeans.
Shit.
He needed to stop looking before he came in his pants like a damn teenager.
But he just couldn't pull his eyes away.
Not from how the straps -tucked so neatly behind your neck- framed your chest perfectly.
How the A-line showed the tops of your soft tits.
How they bounced as you laughed....
He throbbed.
Bucky had to stop looking. Now.
Impossible.
Illegal probably.
But then—
"Bucky, thank god!" A voice called to him,
His eyes peeled away from your tits and to the source of the voice. He didn't need to move his eyes far.
Bucky managed to croak out a weak,
"Hey, Dolly."
His eyes moved down again then back to your face.
Your tits were coming closer, oh god,
Danger
Danger
Danger
His brain exclaimed.
But Bucky was not thinking with his brain.
"I've been waiting for you, where've you been?" You ask him, relief making you more relaxed. More settled.
Bucky noticed how your breathing slowed, deeper breaths lasting longer now. Don't ask him how.
He also noticed his pants getting tighter.
You looked at him expectantly.
His brain fumbled.
Shit. Your question!
"I, um, I—what? Oh! Yeah, uh, Sam told me I was dressed like a hobo and made me change about three times." Bucky chuckled, distress still covert enough to get him by.
"Aw man, I missed hobo Bucky? Worst night of my life!" You joked, mock stomping your foot.
"Tell me about it" Bucky murmured, eyes roaming whilst he had the chance, his hand nonchalantly moved downwards, trying to fix his not so little problem.
His jeans were still tight. Tighter maybe.
He held back the groan that almost slipped past his teeth.
Buckys eyes roamed for a moment too long, up and down. Lingering happily in all the places they could.
When he looked up, he caught your eyes.
You'd caught him.
Staring.
At you.
Shit.
Bucky looked like a deer caught in headlights. A kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, almost disbelief at his own stupidity.
His heart raced. He was ready for you to slap him in the face, pour your drink on him as you called him a perv. Anything.
But you didn't.
You looked away. Your shoulders drawing forwards. Head tilted down. Face flat.
Disappointment.
Even worse.
"Dolly, 'm sorry, I didn't mean any—" he began
"It's fine," You huffed out, "Everybody's been staring. Think they forgot there's a girl under the tactical suit."
Oh.
You hadn't been disappointed at him looking at your perfect tits. Hadn't even noticed.
You'd seen him scanning your dress... And had felt judged.
He had to fix this, whilst not looking at your tits. Your perfect, beautiful tits he could just smoosh his face into and kiss all over and—
Focus Barnes!
Bucky took a deep breath, trying to centre his attention on anything but his own thoughts.
"Hey," Bucky stepped closer, trying to catch your eyeline, "'m not shocked and I definitely didn't forget about the woman under the tactical suit," .
You look up at him, eyes watering just slightly. Cheeks tinged the same shade of pink, but blotchier.
The thoughts he has, he needs to go to a confession booth. No. They might send him to hell where his sinful thoughts belong.
But the way you looked at him?
Made him throb even more.
He tried his best to hold in a groan.
"...I mean— Why does everybody keep staring?" You say, eyes still watery. Your face looks exhausted.
Bucky makes a mental note to kick himself for not listening, for not noticing you even started talking to him.
But the question makes him smirk.
Why is everybody staring?
Because you're fucking hot.
Because you look like my midnight snack.
Because they all want to take you home.
That's what he wants to say.
His smirk only grows.
Your brow furrows, "What? Is there something wrong?"
Buckys still in his thoughts (or thots). Ears now decoration only.
Even your frown is hot.
Your hands on your hips, leaning forward slightly.
Perfect view.
Were you doing this on purpose?
"James!" You were getting agitated now, ready to rip Bucky a new asshole if he didn't tell you what was wro—
Bucky made a sound.
Did he... Just... Moan?
No. No!
But...
Yes?
Your eyes widened.
"Ja— Bucky!" You whisper yelled, your cheeks now red instead of pink.
Buckys cheeks were the same colour.
You looked him up and down, trying to figure out just what was going on. And then you saw it. The tent in his pants.
"Oh." You breathed.
Buckys cheeks had turned an even darker shade of red. Scarlet. His face could be a mood ring from all the colours it was turning.
Finally buckys brain caught up to him. (The blood had to start rushing somewhere else at some point, right?)
"Dolly, I'm— I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to— it's just that, Well, your dress is— Shit. It's not your fault. I'm just— I'm so fucking sorry Dolly." Bucky rambled.
You on the other hand, were eerily quiet.
Is this why everybody kept staring?
Because you were.... Hot?
"...It'll never happen again, I swear it.." Bucky continues, panicking clearly
Hot enough that a super soldier was moaning at you for chastising at him?
This was an unexpected turn of events.
You smirked.
Turned your head.
Innocent look on your face.
Bucky stopped talking five seconds ago. Clearly scared for himself.
"Well, now I know why everybody was staring at me, I suppose. Right James?" You say, looking devilishly sweet.
Tags/warnings: SMUT, DARK, non-con/cnc/dub con, masks, dark!Winter Soldier/ Dark!Bucky, rough sex, p-in-v (wrap it!!!), creampie, hair pulling, fingers in mouth, big dick (bc of course), crying, pleading, zip tied hands, spit, basement wife vibes at the end
Not beta'd and that's a warning. I try to tag everything but sometimes things get missed. I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. And as always, MDNI!
This fic has DARK elements as tagged above. Please read at your own risk - I do not control the content you consume but I have warned you.
Summary: When a stranger breaks in to your apartment, you get a whole lot more than you bargain for.
Word count: 1.4k
Banners by @/cafekitsune
A/N: This is my first time writing an official dark fic! I have tried my best at all the warnings but please read with caution (third warning's always the charm!) - Love, Grem x
Prev | Next | Kinktober 2024 | Navigation
You were filling a glass of water when a sound startled you. You didn't turn immediately, thinking it was just the old pipes but when the unmistakable sound of a combat boot thudding against the wooden floor echoed through your apartment, you whipped around to see a large masked man in all black halfway through your window.
"Take what you want and please leave." You blurt hurriedly. There's no chance in hell you could take him on in a fight. You caught sight of glimmering metal on his right arm and briefly thought he was wearing armour but when your eyes followed his fingers, you were terrified to realise they were metal too. Without thinking, you hurl your glass at him not wasting a moment to linger on the smash of crystal as you make a blind, panicked dash to your room.
You slam the door shut and bolt it, throwing yourself towards your bed breathing heavily. Your heart is struggling to keep pace as you hear the thud of boots echoing through your apartment after you at an almost tauntingly slow pace, stopping outside your door.
There's no time to scream when the door crumples inward, splintering wood chips all over the floor and creaking on its hinges as the terrifying masked man stands in the threshold for mere seconds before he's on top of you. Dragging you by the ankle as you try to squirm away up your bed, he positions you beneath him as your bed groans under his added weight. Too scared to move, you watch yourself in the reflection of his goggles, small and terrified.
You go to scream but his thick metal fingers shove into your mouth making you choke around them instead. His fingers were ice cold against your tongue and you didn't want to think about whether the metallic flavour you tasted was just the metal of his fingers or someone else's blood.
His other, warmer, flesh hand was busy making quick work of your pjs; pushing the thin material of the top upwards to expose your breasts, which he squeezed roughly with a gloved hand and grazed a hardened nipple with his thumb. You wriggled, writhed and whimpered in protest to no avail, clawing at the metal arm to try and halt his efforts. Frustration, fear and arousal building with each passing moment.
When the warmth of his gloved hand begins to tug down your pyjama shorts and panties in one, you finally do something. You rear back your left arm, holding his metal wrist with your right as you breathe around his fingers, and punch his jaw with all of the force you can muster.
Which is apparently very little.
Your fist connects to his jaw with an audible crack but his face barely moves. Even though you can't see his face, it's almost like you can see him blink in shock. However, it's short lived when his metal hand removes itself from your mouth and grips both of your wrists hard; your bones crying in agony. He reaches for something in his back pocket and it takes you a few moments to realise it's a zip tie.
"'M sorry! 'M sorry!" You chant desperately as he starts to tie your wrists together tightly. You begin to sob uncontrollably and attempt to kick at him when he goes back to his previous task, removing what little clothing you had on. The masked intruder doesn't even flinch at your flailing legs, easily pushing them aside as your shorts and panties are tugged down your legs.
"Please don't." You sob quietly when he bares your cunt to the stale room air, slotted between your thighs with a tight grip on your hips. You hate how you're even just a little bit turned on by this; how he's manhandled you, how he began to pleasure you with an almost primal need. So you can't help but feel a little rush of arousal when his hands go to his pants and begins to unzip his fly. You suck in a breath when he tugs his cock free of his boxers. He's big. Bigger than you'd ever had, for sure. A new wave of terrified arousal washes over you; how would he fit?
Your question is soon answered when he nudges at your hole, gathering what little slick he can be bothered to before breaching you slowly. Your mouth falls open, allowing him to stuff his fingers back down your throat to silence your scream as he fills you inch by inch. Your pussy quivers with a burning ache and you smack your zip tied wrists at his metal arm but he's unperturbed, continuing his path until his cock bottoms out and his hips are flush against yours. The tip of his cock pokes at your cervix and you can feel the twitch of excitement in his cock, like he knows how deep he is. If you could see his face, you'd think he'd look a little smug.
All that stares back at you in the reflection of his goggles is you. You're stuck beneath him, tear stained face panting for breath around his fingers, your body betraying you as your cunt squeezes his cock, fighting back a whimper at the fullness he's provided.
It takes a full minute for the burning sensation to subside. The entire time you're enveloped in silence, waiting for your assailant to move or say something as your cunt adjusts to him. You sniff and whimper pathetically but after the minute adjustment period is up, he begins to move and on autopilot you wiggle your hips to get comfortable in preparation for whatever he's about to give you.
Slow, deep thrusts is how he starts, removing his fingers from your mouth and grasping your chin, smearing your own saliva over your lips. The tightness of his grip makes you wince and you're forced to keep your eyes open, too terrified to close them or look away in case you're punished again. Once it's clear you're watching him and have surrendered yourself, he begins to speed up his thrusts.
He moves his metal hand around your throat, anchoring you to the bed as his hips snap against yours, no less deep but much harder than before. Your eyes widen as you try to gulp for air, forced to watch yourself get that fucked-out flush across your cheeks in the reflection of his goggles, and forced to hear his animalistic grunts of pleasure through the mask.
You can feel an orgasm building and tears spill as you claw at his hand around your throat, your pussy clamping down like a vice around his cock, happily strangling him as you fight for breath.
"Please." You rasp out, clutching his metal forearm as your vision begins to blur, effectively anchoring yourself to him as you cum with a voiceless scream around his cock. Hot tears spill down your cheeks as your muscles relax, the hand around your neck loosens slightly to let you heave a half-choked sob and to let you hear the wet slapping of his balls against your cunt in place of the blood pumping in your ears.
His thrusts slow but don't stop. His metal hand moves from your neck to knot in your hair, pulling you roughly upward and forward so you can watch him drive his cock in and out of you. Your pussy flutters at the sight; his thick cock stretching you so well that you're almost fucked senseless and want to cum all over him again. The whimper of need you try to subdue doesn't go unnoticed and, with a growl, his gloved thumb is grazing over your swollen clit wringing another orgasm from you while your tits bounce in time with his thrusts.
After a few moments his thrusts speed up and he pulls out of you, covering your tits, tummy and quivering pussy with hot, white ropes of cum with a contented sigh. His hand doesn't leave your hair as he looks down at you, once again your teary face is visible in the black reflection of his goggles. He seems to regard you for a moment, from your pouty red face down to your puffy, abused folds and nods wordlessly, as if agreeing to something.
He releases your hair before finally speaking in a monotonous voice behind his mask. "Pack a bag. You're coming with me."
Tags/Warnings: SMUT, compromising situations, spreader bar, dubcon (barely), mutual pining/lusting, vaginal fingering, creampie, p-in-v (wrap it!!!), dirty talk, pet names (doll/sweetheart/dirty girl/babydoll), roomates to lovers
Not beta read
Summary: You get stuck in a compromising position but thankfully your very helpful roomie is able to "help".
Word count: 2.6 k
As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.
I hope you enjoy; comments, likes and reblogs are always welcome! Banners : @/cafekitsune
A/N: Originally, this was going to be roommate! Steve but I really liked his softness ... so duh had to make it Bucky Boy instead. This one is going to also be a drabble series probably, but not as sweet as Steve's (at first) - Love, Grem x
Prev | Next | Masterlist
You weren’t too sure what possessed you to open your new toy as soon as it arrived nor do you know why you thought it would be a good idea to try it out alone. But you did. And now here you are, in your new favourite lingerie, made up to the nines, legs spread and so very, utterly stuck.
You had been feeling rather blue since your break up a few months ago. Your roommate, Bucky, had been a godsend throughout it but you just had felt like shit. But when your favourite online sex shop had a flash sale the week before, you hadn’t cared how much you spent, it was the first time you had felt something other than numb or fleeting happiness in a while. And when it arrived this afternoon, you were practically ripping the box from the delivery driver.
You had planned it expertly. Bucky was out for the day so you could try out plenty of angles, positions and rooms with your phone in private. You had showered, done your hair and make up to match the new lingerie you had bought and felt so unbelievably hot and confident – it would be a waste not to snap some pics. Then it occurred to you to snap some with the leg spreader bar. Why not go all out?
But you’d bent too far over the back of the sofa, trying to get that perfect angle that would show off your plump ass and the bar, and now your feet couldn’t touch the floor and you’d slid too far forward but not far enough for you to reach the floor with your arms and push yourself up. Even if you did, you risked injuring yourself somehow.
And what would happen if Bucky came home with Steve and-or Sam in tow? A cold , icy tingle ran down your spine. Uh oh. You’d never live this down – it’s embarrassing enough your crushing on your hot roommate without him seeing you like this, least of all his friends. Thankfully, your phone was still clutched in your hands and you huffed as you attempted to find Bucky's name in your contacts to warn him what he’d be walking into and to please, please, please not bring any guests home.
You: Hey, so this is gonna sound weird but I’m kinda stuck right now so if you could stay out a while longer that would be grand! X
You: and please don’t bring anyone around until I am unstuck!!!
You: Sorry x
Your face flushes with embarrassment and you mutter to yourself. You’re only snapped out of your thoughts when Bucky messages back.
Bucky: Stuck? Are you okay, doll?
Bucky: I’m on my way back. I can help.
You scream into the sofa pillow. God this couldn’t get any worse.
You: No, it’s really alright. It’s pretty embarrassing, actually.
The response is immediate.
Bucky: it’s alright. I’m happy to help and I won’t judge. Promise doll :-)
Curse Bucky and his kindness and curse him for being a big, dumb, helpful idiot.
You: Fine but you need to close your eyes when you come in!!!
Bucky only responds with a thumbs up emoji and you sigh. Whatever he’s expecting to find, you didn’t know if your current position would be better or worse. You hoped better because you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about Bucky in that way. More than once. And the thought of him finding you like this would have had you pressing your thighs together – if you could do that right now.
It took about ten minutes for Bucky to arrive home and you were wriggling wildly and yelling at him to close his eyes when you heard his keys rattle in the lock.
“Alright, alright doll. My eyes are closed.” He chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Where are you?”
“On the sofa.” You reply meekly, heating flooding to your cheeks.
“The sofa?” You can hear the confusion in his voice as he comes closer. “How are you stuck on the sofa?”
“I- uhh...” You trail, realising there isn’t much of an explanation to your predicament other than the truth. “I was trying out something and... look it’s not important just please help and keep your eyes closed.”
Bucky shook his head in disbelief even though you couldn’t see it, you knew he was smiling. “Fine. Fine.”
“I’m in the mid- oh!”
in Bucky's blind attempt to reach you with his eyes closed, he’d managed to bump right into you hitting his shins painfully against the spreader bar with a muffled clang.
“Ow!” he yelped, eyes flaring open to see what he’d hit only to be graced with your ass covered in lace. His eyes trailed down your stocking-clad legs, eyes widening as they spread apart to make a perfect triangle with the metal bar secured at your ankles. “Oh.”
The sound was breathless, his mind blank and jeans suddenly too tight at the sight before him. He’d dreamed of you like this before but this was almost too comical to be real. It was like you were being served to him.
“Bucky?” You asked shyly, shaking him from his stupor. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He says thickly. “Tell me what you need.”
Your heart beats at a break neck pace. He hasn't opened his eyes has he? Even so, his helpful comment has almost rendered your brain, and legs, to mush.
“I - um - just so my feet touch the floor,” You explain, wishing you were literally anywhere else. “Then I’ll die of embarrassment in my room.”
“What were you doing?” Bucky asked, shamelessly gazing at your ass whilst you still thought (hoped) his eyes were closed. He wasn't sure if he'd get an opportunity like this again. It was much better than seeing you in a towel or pyjamas and better yet than his own imagination. He could feel his fingers twitch, itching to reach out and grip your hips, but resisted; trying to remember you were his roommate and friend.
You face burns hotter and there’s a slight tingle in a place you know shouldn’t be tingling when Bucky is being so kind to help you through this embarrassing time. But explaining to him that you were taking boudoir photos is possibly your newest low.
“I was taking photos,” You admit sheepishly, grateful he can’t see your face right now. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire and you don't know if it's in a good way or a bad way.
“Photos?” Bucky's mouth dries out. Photos for whom? He wished he could see them. Wished they were for him. Hell, he wished he could take them. Especially taking ones that captured the very moment you came, preferably over his cock, so he could keep it close by when either of you were away - just in case he had to rely on his imagination and needed a prompt.
You swallow thickly, the embarrassment seemingly never ending. “For me. They... God, this is so embarrassing. They were to make me feel sexy.”
“Ah, right.” Bucky says absently, his mind only full of thoughts of pulling you against him. He pushed the thoughts away. You were his roommate. You trusted him to help. “But you are sexy.”
“Thanks,” you chuckle awkwardly. “Um, if you just grab my hips and pull me back I...” you swallow, mind racing to the gutter but before you can finish, Bucky's large hands are on your hips; half on skin half on lace. His flesh fingertips are rough and hot against your skin but the metal fingertips are surprisingly soft but cool and, coincidentally unbeknownst to you both, you and Bucky both stifle sounds of pleasure. You shiver as you feel yourself being pulled slowly backward, heat and an uncomfortable damp settling between your legs as Bucky effortlessly, though slowly, pulls you back to standing position.
As Bucky gives one final tug, there’s the click of your heels on the floor. Unfortunately, your heels rock back and you lose your balance and to stop yourself from falling you stick your ass out on instinct, grabbing the back of the sofa to steady yourself.
Which would have been fine had Bucky not been stood behind you with a hard on. Your ass brushed past the tent in his jeans and you gasped.
That’s what broke Bucky.
“Fuck, doll, you look so good. All spread out for me.” He said gruffly, making you whine quietly.
“Buck.” You turn your head to look up at him, face flushed and wide eyed but God you look so perfect laced up, legs spread and bent double in front of him. You’re not sure what to say – what to ask – all you know is that you’ve been crushing on your roomie and he’s probably just said one of the hottest things you’ve ever heard in your life. Maybe that’s why you say possibly the dumbest thing that comes to mind.
“You were supposed to keep your eyes closed.”
A blush creeps up Bucky's neck as he looks down at you, hands still on your hips and intent on not letting go. His chest rises and falls with heavy pants and he grips your hips a little tighter. “Sorry doll, I just- shit. You look so good. I -Sorry.”
“It's not a bad thing,” you say quickly, feeling your own breathing become laboured. “I – I’m glad you like what you see.”
Bucky's eyes close and he stifles a groan. “Doll, don’t look at me like that.”
“Don’t look at you like what?”
“Like you want me to fuck you right here, like this.” He growls, eyes glowering down at you with heat so intense your body lights up. “Like you want to have me balls deep inside of you.”
Your mouth opens slightly as you stare up at him. You’d heard him curse before but not like that. You never thought that your roomie would say something like that to you. Your legs shuffle as you try once again to squeeze your thighs together, the needy ache between them becoming to difficult to ignore.
“Maybe I do.” You respond hoarsely. “Maybe I've thought about it.”
Bucky's grip on your hips becomes ever so slightly painful. “You have?”
You only nod and Bucky curses loudly.
You heard the click and clang of his belt coming undone, followed swiftly by the zipper his jeans behind you and God did it make you soaked just knowing he was about to have you. Your panties were tugged to your knees in one quick motion and before you could react to the sudden lack of clothing two of Bucky's cool, metal fingers sank inside your pussy without warning, making you moan loudly.
“That’s my dirty girl,” he praises, working your already slick cunt with his fingers with a smirk. “You’re already so wet for me, aren’t you? Feel good?”
“Yes, Bucky, yes!” You moan out eagerly, jutting your hips backwards even further into him. The metal fingers curl and scissor inside of you, stretching you open in front of Bucky, whose flesh hand squeezes the cheek of your ass roughly.
"Shit babydoll," He murmurs, moving his fingers out of you slowly, teasingly dragging them along your folds to make you whine. He looks at his glistening fingers with a satisfied smirk. "I think you're ready for my cock already."
Bucky doesn't even take the time to undress fully, his jeans hanging low on his hips as he frees his cock, tapping it against your ass cheek tauntingly. You wiggle your hips, trying to angle your legs so you could feel the thickness and heat of his cock against your skin again, but Bucky's flesh hand holds you firmly in place. You huff in frustration and can feel his tip on the curve of your ass again, this time trailing cool, sticky pre-cum.
"Excited are we?" Bucky watches you shift again, your ass looking even better covered in his pre-cum than the lace. He guides his length through your folds, sighing with delight at the silky warmth around his cock, and chuckling his tip nudges your clit making you moan his name.
"Please, Bucky." Your groan is muffled into a couch cushion. The slow torture was killing you in the best way possible and you were already desperate to have him fuck you.
"Please what, doll?" Bucky asks, repeating the motion with his cock again.
You curse loudly before gasping out, "Please fuck me."
Bucky grins triumphantly. "Oh, with pleasure, doll."
He draws his cock back up along your folds and sinks into you, hard and fast, filling you to the brim and bottoming out in one thrust. Your hands dart out in front of you to steady yourself as you make a silent oh. Bucky's metal arm circles your waist, pulling you to stand a little straighter as he waits for you to adjust.
There's a kiss to your shoulder blade. Then another. You swallow thickly, trying to regain the ability to breathe as you relax onto Bucky's cock with a long, drawn out fuuuuck. Once you relax into him, leaning further back into him, Bucky begins to thrust upwards erratically. The slapping noises of skin-on-skin are drowned by the sounds of Bucky kissing your neck and murmuring filth that makes your eyes roll in ecstasy.
“I used to hear you and your boyfriend fucking – he never could fill you up like I can, could he?” Bucky murmurs lowly, taking a moment to pull put of you slowly and back in again, appreciating how your pussy grips his cock and sucks him back in. His words make you groan out and this time you answer before you get to lost in the pleasure to respond.
"No, he c-couldn't."
Your body jerks when Bucky slams into your pussy again and this time you're sure you're seeing stars. Your orgasm isn't far and from the way Bucky's thrusts are getting sloppier, you know his isn't far either.
"Your pussy feels fucking amazing, doll." Bucky huffs, his metal hand retreating from your waist and back to your hip. "I could fuck you all day."
Your eyes roll and you can feel your pussy grip his cock tighter; on the precipice of your orgasm and desperate to take all Bucky can give. Your face flushes at his words even though they barely register in your fucked out state.
"Please," You keen at him. "I'd love you to fuck me all day."
Bucky pulls your hips to meet his roughly, making you squeak before speeding up his thrusts again. "Yeah, doll? You would?"
You barely manage out an mmhmm through your moans, your pussy throbbing greedily around his cock. "Yes, please - fuck. I'm - I'm gonna cum."
Your arms reach blindly behind you, grasping at Bucky's hips to hoist yourself just a little bit higher; letting Bucky's cock reach a new depth in your sopping cunt. You cum almost immediately with a loud, shuddering gasp and struggle to find your breath as Bucky continues to milk his cock for a few more seconds until he spills inside of you with a moan of his own.
Then the apartment is all but silent apart from your breathing.
The weight of what happened between you both setting in as you stand joined together, sweating and panting, in the living room. You think you'd laugh if you didn't think it would be so awkward. Bucky's the first to speak, clearing his throat.
"So..." He slips his softening cock from you and your eyes flutter slightly. "You needed help getting this bar off your feet?"
Tags/warnings: SMUT, macrophilia (bc he's still a giant), overstimulation, vaginal fingering, p in v, creampie, breeding kink, no beta, Loki (he's a warning), slight dub con, praise (good girl), Spitting, monster fucking (ig), monster cock, stomach bulge, multiple orgasm,
My warnings are non-exhaustive and likely I've missed some, please read at your own risk. And Minors do not interact!!
Summary: Following the night of your husband’s return, Loki finds your notes on the Jotun language and introduces you to a new way of studying.
Word count: 1.9k
A/N: did I only have 5 hours sleep and got back from work two hours ago? Yes. Did my phone post a fic I'm working on before it was ready again? Also yes. I'm very tired... so the mistakes are aplenty (probably). I'll fix them later (probably).
Translations are at the end! I used this little website so I apologise in advance if there are mistakes!
Banners by @/cafekitsune
Part 1 | Part 2 (you're here!)
Prev | Next | Masterlist
Loki was awake before sunrise. The memories of the night before flitted in and out of his brain as he held your small form in his arms. You looked peaceful in this state; a welcome change from the worried, fearful or angry looks you usually sported.
Loki did consider pulling you tighter to him but didn't want to risk stirring you from your slumber, knowing you would likely be in a foul mood after the events of last night. His ruby eyes flitted to the corset in tatters next to the bed, making a mental note to get another that would fit a little better and look as equally beautiful.
After half an hour, he removed himself from you with a sigh, careful to keep from waking you. He'd not had chance to investigate you what you'd been working on and, after setting the fire alight, he reached for the nearest notebook you had left strewn on the floor, flicking through the pages.
Some of the script is random notes but other parts are words and phrases in Jotun, with colourful translations in Asgardian next time them. An unfamiliar warmth blossoms in Loki’s chest as he looks between your dreaming form and your notes, but a wicked smirk quickly appears as his plans for the morning change.
Loki treads back to the bed, re-taking his place next to you, discarding your notebook lazily to drape his arm over your waist.
“Wife,” Loki punctuates the word with a nuzzle into your neck, making you stir. Your eyes flutter and then you blink a few times, brows furrowing as you wake. Memories of the previous night crash through your brain and your eyes fly open fully, face flushing as you look over to your husband lying beside you with a mischevious gleam in his red eyes.
“Wife," He says again, voice low. "Have you been trying to learn Jotun?"
You attempt to gather the bed sheets around you, swamping yourself in warmth amd protection, but Loki’s giant cold arm prevents it. He instead looks down at you, waiting patiently for your response. Slowly, you nod your head.
"You know I can help teach you.” Loki murmurs into your ear. "And I can make it fun."
Your head tilts back slightly, eyes wide and Loki drinks in the sight. Your chest is heaving under the covers and your face is bright red at the thought of what fun Loki could possibly have in mind for you.
"Loki," You breathe. "Last night-"
"You were exquisite, wife." Loki’s eyes bore into yours and you feel as if you're shrinking, however, your body betrays you by making heat pool between your thighs at his praise. "And I want more. Especially now, knowing you've been learning my tongue."
“You’re so busy – I couldn’t ask you to-“
“We can start right now,” he purrs, his large hand tugging away the covers, exposing your naked form. Loki's tongue drags across his lips, and you remember just how well he'd teased you with it the night before and you shiver. "I'd forgo any amount of royal duties if it meant being buried in your sweet cunt."
You can't stop the short gasp that bubbles out of your throat and your eyes widen. You heart is running circuits, blood rushing heat everywhere. Loki’s words leave you skin like gooseflesh, your nipples pebbling at the thought despite your thoughts of him. You didn't even want to think of the way your pussy throbbed.
Loki seems to enjoy the sight before him, knowing you want more of last night's activities and knowing the effect his words have on your delicate Asgardian body. He runs his hand upwards to cup at one of your breasts rolling and tweaking at your nipple gently and you fight back moans.
"Does my wife like that idea?" He taunts in a whisper. "Being split open by your husband? You already wear my mark."
His chilled thumb runs over the love bite he'd left on the top of your breast the night before and he eyes it proudly. His eyes flicker to yours for a moment before he presses his face against yours, the heat of your skin warming his own.
Your own small hands inch up his strong arm that's holding you down, eyes quietly pleading but for what you weren't sure.
"Loki." You murmur to him as he nips at the sensitive skin on your neck.
“I’m going to say things to you in your Asgardian tongue and you will repeat it in Jotun for me.” Loki’s tone doesn't leave any room for argument and your chest heaves with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "Each correct answer will be rewarded.”
You press your legs together as another wave of heat flushes through you and try to look anywhere but at Loki as your cheeks redden with sudden shyness. Loki smirks and trails kisses along your shoulder and chest.
"Isn't that a good idea?" Loki lips gently kiss over your breasts, his cold tongue licking playfully at your pebbled nipples. “Don’t worry, we will start easy.”
Easy was numbers. Loki held you close to his side to murmur numbers to you in Asgardian, ensuring you couldn’t move away. His free hand trailed over your body softly, at first. After each answer he would shower you with praises, often giving piece of soft, warm flesh a squeeze before continuing to trail your sides again. Each time he’d squeeze, you found yourself making small noises, and by the time you had reached the number ten, you found yourself agreeing that this was a far better way to learn than through children's books and notes.
When you reached fifteen, Loki’s fingers trailed down to your sex and tapped your clit, making you jolt in his arms. He continued to draw small, tight circles around the bundle of nerves to ensure you continued to whimper and grow more and more pliant.
“Good girl,” he cooed, kissing the top of your hair. “Isn’t this nice? Being rewarded for your good behaviour? Smart little wife.”
You can feel the dampness leaking from your core as Loki works his ministrations on your clit and you mewl into his shoulder, gripping his arm so hard your fingers ached. The brashness of your own sounds make you flood with shyness and shame. You were loving all of this newfound attention from Loki, even if you knew you shouldn't be.
When you reached twenty you were red faced and panting into Loki’s chest. He'd been horrifically slow saying the numbers, prolonging his torture of your clit. He knew exactly how to draw you to the edge and keep you there, before giving you moments of respite before bringing you right back to that edge. You were beginning to see stars and your pussy ached around nothing. You'd considered begging for his fingers, begging for some relief, but when your half-lidded, lust-glistened eyes met his you knew you'd get something far better than his fingers.
"You've done so well for me, smăr einn." Loki says shifting to cage you against the mattress with his arms. His knees push your legs apart with ease and you gasp loudly when you feel the tip of his cock brush along your inner thigh. "Are you ready for your reward?"
When you nod Loki says dramatically. "Words, wife. Use your words." He sits back on his haunches and your eyes grow wide at the massive length standing tall between his legs. You swallow thickly, wondering how he'd manage to squeeze in to you... and your cunt flutters at the thought. Loki smirks down at you, pumping his cock a few times and then spitting onto your sensitive clit. "You know how much I like to hear you beg. Let me hear you say how much you want your husband."
Your voice dies in your throat when Loki runs the head of his thick cock from your spit covered clit, all the way down to your wet hole. He nudges it testingly with a curious look and you squeak a gasp. Your pussy flutters again and you can't think of anything else other than him being inside you.
"Come on wife," Loki teases with an edge of impatience. He taps his cock against your clit, watching you writhe beneath him in pleasure. "Imagaine how good it'll feel being full of my cum."
"Líka!" You cry out in Jotun, surprising both you and Loki; whose heart thuds harder in his chest. "Líka maðr!"
"Fast, wif." Loki huffs, rolling his hips slowly into yours. Your mouth is an open scream as Loki pushes into your tight hole, your pussy immediately constricting around his cock. Loki sighs, reaching a hand to toy with your clit again. You jerk at the sensation, his cool skin against your scorching heat never ceases to make your pussy wet.
You whimper as Loki’s cock finally reaches its hilt and Loki makes a loud, gravelly groan.
"Look at how well you take me," Loki urges, his voice breathless. His other hand goes to knead your breasts and your eyes flutter, glancing down. Loki’s hips are slotted between yours, his cock buried inside you as promised, but above where his hand rolls your clit, there's an obvious bulge.
Your pussy spasms at the sight, and Loki grins down at you, slowly moving his hips backwards and then forwards, allowing you to adjust to his size.
"Loki." You keen, heaving breaths beneath him. "I- fuck."
Loki huffs a chuckle, dragging his cock out before plunging back into your pussy. He'd been correct before, he'd gladly avoid royal duties to have you splayed out like this on his cock. You curse louder than before, almost screaming and gripping the covers beside you; Loki would have been concerned if your legs didn't spread wider and your cunt didn't gush the way it did over his cock. Spurred on to move faster, Loki picks up the pace, continuing to lavish your breasts and clit with attention that makes your eyes roll.
"You're doing so well," Loki pants. "Such a good girl for your husband. I can't wait to see my seed drip from your pretty little cunt."
Your walls clench down around Loki and he curses. He moves his arms forwards, interlacing his fingers with yours before leaning down, pressing you into the bed as he fucks into you.
"My wife," Loki growls into your neck. You're a moaning mess under him, but you manage to turn your face towards his; your lips kissing haphazardly until you find his lips. Loki’s hips stutter and his moan is smothered by your lips - the first true kiss you'd given him unprompted, unlike the forced kisses he'd managed to manipulate from you at your wedding or for social aspect but a real, genuine kiss.
"My husband," you whisper hoarsely back, breath hitching three octaves as another orgasm crashes through your body. "Loki!"
Loki grunts, his fingers almost crushing yours as your pussy to squeeze him tight and he pumps you full of his cream.
You're completely fucked out and breathless, your eyes flutter when you feel a cool hand against your flushed cheek turn your head and your heart stammers when Loki presses a sweet kiss against your lips.
"You were amazing," he whispers, brushing away hair that's stuck to your sweat-sheened face. "I think we should study a few times each day."
You give him a lopsided, cock-drunk grin; the first genuine smile you'd ever given him. "That sounds good to me."
Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, macrophilia, temperature play (Frost Giant skin), descriptions of violence (not toward reader), arranged/forced marriage, dubcon, mean!Loki (he should just be a warning anyway), knife play (brief), corset, struggling to breathe (bc of the corset), nipple/breast play, thigh riding, teasing, biting/marking, pet names (see below author's note), squirting, vaginal fingering
No beta - and we're ignoring that I posted this 1 minute past midnight xoxo
Word Count: 3.1k
Summary: Your Husband, the Frost Giant Prince Loki, has come back from battle and expects to see his bride.
As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.
I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
A/N: I had to edit this fic more than once to cut and splice things from it. I expect I'll have a part 2 (and 3) soon... I don't even wanna talk about how many words this was YEESH. I gotta learn to make a one shot and not stay up to early hours with a 6k storyline. Again, this was supposed to be LONGER 💀
I found this website here that helped with Old Norse translations (but they may be wrong!) I'll link it once I get the chance - Love, Grem x
smăr einn = little one
Part 2
Prev | Next | Masterlist
You had just barely managed to avoid the advances of your husband for the last few weeks. Too busy with the politics between realms to fully focus on you; and you were grateful for it. Your husband was ruthless, cruel and cold. That last adjective quote literally. The prince of Jotunheim was not to be trifled with; as your brother and father had found out rather perilously. Your father had sought to trick Loki and whilst his back was figuratively turned, your brother was sent to kill him.
Loki returned your brother’s mangled corpse back to your home, with a letter promising war unless your father’s prized possession – you – was given as penalty. Marriage with the prince of Jotunheim meant two realms were unified, which was far more prosperous than war. However, that meant being ripped away from your home, your family, your friends, your fiancé and everything you had ever known and being thrust into the cold, unforgiving hands of a barbaric frost giant. You had begged, cried and pleaded with your father but nothing had changed his mind. It was set in stone.
Your new husband took joy in tormenting you on your wedding say, reminding you time and time again that you were lucky to be a negotiation prize rather than one of his spoils of war. The thought had made you shudder with terror and, thankfully, his attentions were lured away to another realm, another battle, another day spent far away from you.
You quickly learned that many of the female frost giants were unimpressed with you as a tiny little thing in comparison to their race as a whole. Your body almost entirely unequipped for Jotunheim weather. Your ladies-in-waiting were no different. They had spoken in their native tongue in front of you, clearly, discussing you and how you probably didnt meet their standards nor their prince’s. You’d stayed quiet and fiddled with your hands, unsure of how to approach them or speak to them. Everything you knew about frost giants was from your culture; which labelled them as blood-thirsty barbarians. Though, the ice fortress you resided in was immaculate and strictly designed – different from your home in Asgard yet no less civilised. That was a good starting point.
over the course of the week’s your husband’s absence, you focused on befriending your ladies-in-waiting. You asked about their culture, their lives and the language they spoke. If you were going to be here until the end of your days, you may as well know what is being said behind your back and, well, to your face.
You picked up words quickly, studying in the silence of the enormous bed chamber. You had borrowed a few children’s books from the library, and one or two on the flora and fauna of Jotunheim, though you could only appreciate the pictures thus far.
The bed chamber was far too big for you, perfect size for your husband, you supposed. Large wooden bookcases adorned the far wall, and there was a small (well small for a giant) fireplace adorned with a fur rug from a creature you couldn’t name, but it was soft. The bed itself was so huge you practically drowned in the covers. It was cosy but you agreed with yourself it was probably cosy because your husband was not there with you.
Yet.
One morning, after waking up relatively late, your ladies-in-waiting were busying about the bedroom.
“What’s going on?” you ask nervously, already anticipating the answer.
Gertrud, the more social of the two giantess’, gave you a smile as she paused her dusting of the bookshelf. “Prince Loki is returning from battle today.”
You suppress a shiver and try to smile, but you’re not confident you look entirely happy. “Wonderful.”
Gertrud continues regardless, her face contorting to an excited, doe eyed look. “He’s sent you a gift ahead of his arrival, my lady.”
“Oh,” you say, trying to sound chipper. In the very short time you had spent in Jotunheim, Loki had only ever taunted you, albeit briefly. A gift was... new. And you didn’t like it one bit. “How thoughtful of him.”
“He left instruction for you to wear it on his return.” Gertrud says wistfully, as if it’s the most romantic thing she could dream of.
“Wear?” You speak before you can process what’s been said, the shock in your tone evident. Your mouth goes dry and heat burns its way to your cheeks. You weren’t stupid. Wearing something for his return only meant one thing. Your stomach becomes a pit and you have to scream at yourself internally to stop from swaying.
Gertrud mistakes the your shock and flushed face as a sign of excitement, not of worry and fear. “I must say the garment – whatever it is – is not from Jotunheim. Your husband must have acquired it for you, my lady.” Gertrud pauses to smile over at you. “I think our prince is quite taken with his bride.”
You flush a deeper shade of pink and clear your throat. “So it would seem.” You murmur carefully. “Where is the garment? What is it?”
Gertrud places the duster down and heads to a dresser on the otherside of the room, picking up a package and handing it over to you. You delicately take the package from her, shivering at the coolness of her skin, and begin to unwrap it. To your surprise, and utter embarrassment, it’s a corset with matching underwear. Gertrud’s eyebrows raise and she gives you a knowing smirk. You bury your face in your hands.
“I do not need to know what that thing is to know it’s intent,” She says smugly. “As I said, our prince is taken with his bride.”
You peek out from your fingers, eyeing the corset. It’s blue – frost giant blue to be exact – with white lace detail across the bust and back, and white ribbon zigzagging up the back. If this was your husband’s idea of a sick joke, it worked. You still couldn’t decide if you were going to vomit from nervousness.
Gertrud pats your shoulder gently, again misreading your embarassment as bashfulness.
“I will run your bath, my lady. I do not know how to help you into that... thing.” She eyed the corset suspiciously. “But I will ensure that you are ready for your husband’s return.”
You only nod, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You should have known this would be inevitable.
You pace fretfully around the large bedroom. You’d wrapped yourself in a robe, hiding your corset and matching underwear, feeling too exposed even for the man who was your husband. You’d attempted to study again, books and notes strewn across the fur rug in front of the crackling fireplace, but the nervousness of your first night with your husband had you too worried to think.
You’d shooed Gertrud away as quickly as you could, after being bathed in the nicest oils and scents imaginable, softening your skin to butter. You’d fiddled with your corset, tightening it possibly too tight, and after one look in the mirror making heat rise where it definitely shouldn’t you’d throat on your robe.
You’d been pacing for an hour, or thereabouts. Word of Loki’s return to Jotunheim had spread like wildfire within the fortress, yet he still hadn’t come to see you. Any other time you would have been grateful but you knew that he was tormenting you; keeping you on edge until he decided to visit. You even contemplated running and hiding but you knew the risk; Loki had whispered as much to you at your wedding banquet, reminding you that if you ran away all out war would ensue. Starting with your father’s head on a spike. You also knew that hiding would only deny the inevitable; you would eventually have to share a bed with your husband and as a wife, you were expected to bear his children. You shuddered again.
The door to the chambers opened. Your head whipped up, hands clutching at your robe tightly without thought, as you watched Loki enter. He towered above you, easily twelve feet high maybe more, but he must have came from one of the bathrooms because his blue skin trickled with water droplets from his long raven’s wing hair, and he held a towel around his waist. You averted your gaze to the fire, face flushing. Despite it all, he was still attractive.
Loki’s chuckle echoes throughout the chamber and the door shuts behind him.
“What? No welcome for your husband?” He sneers. You don’t have to look to know his lips are curled into that cruel smile you’ve grown accustomed to. “And I see you’re not wearing your gift.”
You look over at him as he approaches, too scared to move. “I-I am.” You murmur, regretting the words as they leave your mouth.
Loki sits on the rug in front of you, on leg up the other flush against the rug, the towel leaving little to the imagination. His red eyes stay on you as he smirks, eyebrows rising in surprise.
“Well,” He gestures at your robe. “Let your husband see.”
Your face burns, your palms are sweaty against your robe, and you pause. You look at your feet, clearing your throat.
“a-aren’t you going to tell me about your battle?” your attempt for stalling is dismissed immediately.
“Later. Show me. Before I remove it for you.”
You nod quickly and with a shaky breath, you untie your robe and let the garment pool at your feet. You would attempt to cover yourself but you aren’t even naked, which somehow makes it worse as you feel Loki’s crimson eyes rake over you. Your chest his flushed and heaves in the corset, ribbon straining with each breath. Your breasts look like they might spill over at any given moment and You feel a little light headed from the entire situation.
“Come closer, wife.” Loki curls a finger at you and you take a few tentative steps closer until you’re stood between his knees, still staring at your feet. His finger tilts your chin up to look at him. The coolness of his finger makes you shiver but when you meet his eyes, there’s a softness you don’t expect to see. “You look beautiful.”
You don’t quite gasp, but your mouth makes a small ‘o’ in shock. You hadn’t expected something so sincere, let alone nice and it makes heat surge between your thighs.
“Thank you, Loki.” You say softly. Loki shifts his legs, eyes not leaving yours as his lips twitch upwards into a smirk. His gaze flits behind you to your notes and his smirk widens into a grin.
“Ah, my wife has been busy whilst I’ve been gone.” He comments, gaze flicking back to you. “Come into my arms and tell me what you’re working on, smár einn.”
The foreign words tickle at your memory but you can only recognise the word one. You take another few steps forward, squeaking with surprise when Loki’s cold forearm wraps around your waist, guiding you to straddle a large, muscular thigh. The icyness of his skin against the warmth between your thighs makes you audibly gasp, and Loki chuckles.
“Happy I’m home?” He teases, your back meeting his torso as he cages you in around his thigh. Wisps of his hair tickle at your shoulders, and a cool kiss is placed at your nape makes you startle. “Because I’m happy to be back. I thought you wouldn’t wear this for me.”
Your blushing isn’t missed by Loki nor is the throb of your cunt on his thigh. When you don’t answer, Loki’s nose runs along your nape, making you shiver again. You’re breathing harder, your breasts bobbing with each breath, as you try to get as much air into your lungs as possible. You feel like you’re suffocating, even though Loki’s grip loose on your waist.
Loki doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he doesn’t care, he’s too busy being smug about your excitement for him, and continues to tease you about your corset; how you look like the perfect Jotun bride now. You mumble thanks at his teases, trying not to look at him and trying not to think of anything, but Loki start to trail icy kisses up your neck that burn your skin in their wake. You mewl quietly and shift your legs causing more friction against your cunt which in turn makes you squeeze your thighs around his gigantic thigh and you notice that the same raised lines on the tough blue skin of his arms and face are on his legs too. Loki nips gently at you shoulder, eliciting a strangled yelp from you.
“That’s it, warm me up, smăr einn.” He taunts, licking the skin he’d bitten with a luke-warm tongue. “Rutting against me like a bitch in heat, no instruction needed.”
Shame floods you at his taunt but so does a throb of excitement. Loki kisses at your neck a little more hungrily in response, earning another few short gasps from you.
“Go on,” He urges in a low, mocking tone. “You want to – I can feel that you want to.”
You whimper pathetically, rolling your hips forward for more friction. Your lip quivers and you bit down – hard – you’ll be dammed if you let him think he wins by seeing you cry. But your giant husband only sneers down at you. Your clit brushes against one of the raised ridges of his skin; electricity crashing through you as you gasp loudly, falling forward onto your palms. Your nails dig into his tough skin when you hear him chuckle, face flushing with anger as you glare in his direction. Loki only mocks you further, holding a hand up in faux-surrender.
“I’m sorry, wife.” He says smugly, watching your reaction. “Please, continue fucking yourself on my thigh.”
You fluster again, but the light-headedness you felt earlier returns. This time, though, instead of struggling to breathe you feel faint and you sway and swoon atop Loki’s thigh. Loki raises an eyebrow, vexed at your actions, before realising that you aren’t faking. Something akin to concern crosses his face and he gets to his feet, holding you close as he takes you to his large bed.
He places you down somewhat gently, your breathing laboured, the constriction from the corset aching at your ribs. You can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs at they scream at your for it. When you look at your husband you wonder briefly if he’ll leave you to die like this and when he pulls a knife from his bedside table, you think he will be the one to take your life instead. The blade is cold against the heat of your skin. Loki doesn’t rush. He trails the tip of the blade down your sternum, between your breasts, to the lacy frill of your corset.
“I can remove this if you so wish,” he says coolly, pressing the blade into your skin, but not hard enough to draw blood. “But I need to hear you beg.”
You want to kick him for the heat that pools between your legs. He knows you’re struggling to breathe with this God forsaken corset on and somehow he manages to find a way to please himself.
“Please.” You huff, but Loki clicks his tongue.
“No, no.” He chides. “Properly.”
His eyes meet yours, and you can feel the challenge emanating from them. You grit your teeth and take a small breath, trying to avoid crushing your ribs. In a small voice you beg him in the way he’s requested.
“Please, husband.” You mumble. “Please, help me.”
The ripping of the ribbons are swift. Your beautiful but bone-crushingly tight corset falls away and you inhale a deep breath that transforms into a gasp when Loki’s mouth finds your nipples and sucks them almost lovingly. Your hands root into his thick black hair, mind drawing a blank, as a cold hand tweaks the nipple he isn’t paying attention to with his mouth. You couldn’t push him away even if you wanted to, not with a giant’s strength. However at this moment in time, you didn’t want him far from you.
Your gasps and moans fill the chamber and Loki smirks up at you from where he’s latched to your breast. Peppering kisses to every inch of skin he can manage, Loki finally finds a supple piece of skin above your left breast that he deems the perfect space for a mark. A mark to show the world that you are his. Only his.
He bites down onto the skin, feeling the vessels burst between his teeth and growls at you when you tug at his hair with a pained yell. You writhe beneath him as he sucks and kisses the spot he marked, the gesture is almost sweet, loving, but you’re too busy feeling too turned on to care. His hands large hands move down to remove what’s left of your underwear, a long, cool finger teasing at your folds.
“Loki,” you say his name with no air left in your lungs, your body trembling under his touch. You’re no longer fighting the desire you feel, which stirs something within Loki’s icy chest. He looks down at you, head tilted faux-curiously, unable to resist teasing you.
“That’s the first time you’ve used my name.” He comments, watching your face contort in pleasure as his index finger breaches your dripping core. “I believe you deserve a reward for being such a good wife.”
His digit pumps you at a vicious pace that, after the assault on your sensitive breasts, sends you careening over the edge of ecstasy quickly. You coat his finger with your cum, chanting his name desperately, strangling his finger with your pussy as he helps you ride out your high. Your legs twitch as you watch him with half lidded gaze as he remove his finger from you with a smirk. He towers over you and before you can say a word, he’s peppering you with soft, cold kisses.
“My smăr einn,” he says softly. “You did well tonight. I look forward to seeing what tomorrow will bring.”
You don’t think about what he could mean, your brain is too foggy and you feel too wonderful to want to dampen the wonderful elation you’re feeling; something you haven’t felt in weeks. You don’t even complain when Loki curls over you, allowing him to wrap himself around you under the sheets of your bed. Nor do you move away when Loki kisses your head and wishes you goodnight; something he’s never done before.
As you drift to sleep, anxiety of the day and the high provided by your orgasm taking its toll, you wonder if maybe your relationship with Loki could be better than you had expected.
