#loki x reader smut

[mischiefmaker615]

[theleavesofwesteros]

hot spell.

➳ Loki Laufeyson x F!Reader

➳ Fluff, Smutty

➳ CW: no mention of y/n, not betaed (so potential for mistakes as always), Loki is just very very horny for his wife (just how we like him), Loki is kind of a slut, Reader kind of jokingly making Loki jealous for one minute, Loki being a little shit, Loki being turned on way too easily, dirty talk.

➳ A/N: fully inspired by the humid heatwave hell I have been in for 2 days now. Also I missed husband!loki very very badly. Parts of this being unrealistic? Well yes! But Loki's horniness defies all logic <3 I had sooooo much fun writing the dialogue here I haven't felt that in a while :) hope you enjoy!!

➳ (1.8k words)

➳ Link to my Loki masterlist

(gif by @sakura-haruka !!) (HAD to use this one bc my thirsting for Loki is back)

The heat was unbearable. It was quite rare for Asgard to be dealing with heat this bad this early on in the season. It was a few weeks too early, all because of a storm that had been steadily building for days above the Realm, decidedly fearsome, and yet hesitating to unleash itself onto the people, leaving the air feeling positively stagnant and sticky on everyone’s skin.

Summers in Asgard came with the expectation of a coolness come every nightfall, no matter how hot the day had left the earth, due to the waters surrounding the city. Tonight seemed to be the first exception of this in what felt like centuries. Even now, in the earliest hours of a new, hopefully cooler, day, Loki could not sleep from the incessant humidity leaking into his pores.

With how much his wife was shifting around on her side of the bed, she was feeling similarly. Yes, ever since he had begun calling her his, Loki had stopped believing in ridiculous notions such as there being ‘sides’ to a bed. When he was with her, all that mattered to him was keeping it that way. She could sleep below the bed if she so wished. He would be there, too. But this heat had prevented him from holding her, too. It was torture. He could not hold her close, nor dream of doing so. Another blasted reason to hate this warm weather, and he had quite a long list already.

“My love, are you awake?”

The answering grunt told him enough.

Her back was to him, and she was on her side, in one of her lovely, enchanting silk nightgowns. White silk, as if the colour itself would make the heat more bearable for her. His every instinct had been screaming at him to ravish her from the moment she had put it on earlier in the evening. She tended to remain in her day dress for a while longer upon retiring to their chambers for the evening, but she had not managed to hold out this night. With her first step into the privacy of their rooms, she had asked him to help rid her of her dress. He’d had to hold back his insatiable adoration for her so as to leave only her wishes fulfilled. His were much lewder (and unacceptable in such weather).

Even now, hours later, he craved her. But he knew she would hit him, or worse, berate him, if he tried anything now. It is why he had spent the past few minutes earnestly praying to the Norns for a reprieve from this heat. All in the name of the sanctity of marriage, he’d assured them in his silent prayers.

He heard more than saw one of her hands reaching back blindly for him, smacking their sheets a few times before making contact with the bare skin of his torso. She, and this offended Loki very much, made a displeased sound once she felt him.

“You are not cold.” She said, turning onto her other side, finally granting him a look at her beautiful (currently sour) face.

“No,” He grinned despite his previous offense, he could not help his smiles around her. “I believe that is impossible with the current state of affairs, my darling.”

“You are a Jötunn, husband.”

“Yes, beloved, I am. However, just as any other creature currently rendered to a pathetic state in this weather, my heritage does not seem to matter, as we seem to be suffering together.”

“Should you not be exempt from the effects of the heat?” She continued to riposte with him, propped up on her forearm.

Loki chuckled, truly endeared at how the heat seemed to make his wife even more fiery than her usual.

“Perhaps in my true form, beloved. Or, perhaps, I might tolerate it even less. I could not say.”

“We should try.” She poked the middle of his chest with her index.

“My dearest, I adore you, I truly do, but I shall not risk immolation for the sake of your greater comfort.”

“Then you do not truly love me.” She huffed, flopping onto her back just as he began to laugh at her outburst.

“The heat has rendered you insolent, my love. And forgetful, it seems.”

She turned her head just enough to glare at him, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

“You seem to have forgotten my very being, dearest. I live to love and pleasure you.” He purred lowly, one of his hands lightly tracing her silk-clad side. “Which is why I could not risk dying, even if to refresh you. Who would please you once I am gone?”

“One of the guards, maybe. They do so love to ogle my figure.” She could not hide her amusement at her own words, smirk pulling at her mouth.

“Do not jest, wife. I am in no mood.” Loki leaned over her, his hair falling like curtains around her head.

“And yet when you do it, the Realms must endure it-”

Loki quieted her with a kiss, her tongue gladly meeting his despite her previous complaints of being too close to him to bear. When she got like this, Loki found her both irritating and enticing. Mostly enticing.

She broke the kiss after a few more moments of bliss, and granted him reprieve by letting him lavish her neck with kisses and bites.

“Could we not have Thor force the storm?” She thought aloud, staring up at the ceiling.

The idea had Loki pausing, pulling away from her neck to look at her.

“… I shall discuss with him in the morn, my love.”

“Could we not wake him now? Break his doors down. For the good of Asgard, surely.”

“Nothing could wake him, my love. You know this. The oaf rises when he is ready to.”

She groaned, running her palms down her face in frustration before pushing him off her rather abruptly. Loki could not help but pout slightly, watching her as she stood from their bed and walked to the windows. The curtains were barely moving. Even the usual breeze seemed to have been suffocated by the heat.

“I must go.”

“Go? Dearest, we should not jump to rash decisions such as seeking asylum in another realm from a few days of hotter weather.”

He watched her fan herself with her nightgown, pulling the fabric away from her chest repeatedly in order to create a light breeze for herself.

“Even your unending wisdom seems to have been subdued by the heat, husband.”

Loki watched her. Admired her, really, though it was becoming harder to the more she continued to poke at him with increasingly barbed words.

“I will strongly consider a visit to Jotunheim with you tomorrow, darling, if it means having my wife returned to me. She seems to have been replaced by a cruel woman, whose powers lie in sharpened words.”

She turned back to look at him (maybe glaring was a better description of what she was doing). Loki still found her deeply, impossibly irresistible. “Will you join me for a walk in the gardens, or shall I go it alone?”

It is how they found themselves in the gardens minutes later. Despite her usual affinity for maintaining a good impression in court, she had not bothered to change at all, to put an outer robe on, or even to put a cloak on. Her daring had caused him to harden in his breeches, though he’d been somewhat hard from the moment she’d begun to admonish him in their bed.

Loki himself had remained shirtless, only his leather trousers on. He had some dignity, after all. And an affinity for style. He could not very well go out in his sleep breeches. He wasn’t Thor.

The breeze seemed to have found them now that they were down in the gardens, seemingly eager for some company. His darling seemed plenty happy to be that company. After a few minutes of traipsing through the outer gardens under the hazy moonlight, she linked her arm with his and Loki felt his heart soar.

“My darling… I have missed you.” He cooed, looking down at their arms, touching again after what had felt like an eternity even to him.

“You simply have a flair for the dramatics, my love.”

He grinned, hearing her call him a sweeter name once more.

“You must stop seducing me, my heart. I can only take so much from my perfect temptress.”

“I do not aim to seduce you, husband.” She spoke the words as if she were, funnily enough, recounting the weather, but he could see her amusement plainly on her face.

“No? Then you’ve a natural talent for it, my love.” His body moved of its own accord, stepping in front of her and pulling her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her middle.

“You are incessant, Loki…” Even still, he could see the smile on her lips. The moon seemed to be on his side, its rays illuminating her smile further.

“I am a man in love.” He corrected. “It cannot be helped. I need you. I ache for you. Even this heat was not enough to stop my mind from straying to thoughts of your ambrosial cunt, darling. To thoughts of it around me, wanting me deeper inside it.” He was whispering the words against her temple, feeling her breath on his neck as it quickened.

 “You always take me exquisitely well, my darling. Could we not see if that is also the case in the royal gardens?” His grin was saccharine, framing him as an innocent as if he wasn’t a starving, salivating wolf.

“I should have left you in our bed.”

“I would have crawled after you, my love. See what you have made of me? The God of Mischief, happy to be on his knees for someone else.”

“I would have tied you up to prevent you from following after me.” She could act unaffected by his words all she wanted, but he could feel her hands sliding up his chest slowly whilst she spoke her biting words.

“I would welcome any sensation if it came from you, dearest, no matter how restrictive.”

She huffed, turning her head away from him to hide her smirk, Loki using that moment as an excuse to lean in and kiss her jaw.

She tilted her head and looked behind his head.

“That tree.” She said softly.

Loki hummed lazily in reply, senses attuned to her proximity and nothing else.

“Take me against that tree.” She whispered. Loki found himself glad of the heat for the first time in his life because the gardens were completely theirs for the night, no guards to hear her sound of glee when he picked her up and carried her to the tree she’d chosen.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Almost Dawn [Loki x Reader]

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.

Come say hi! Tell me what you're up to!❤️

[cleo-fox]

Safehouse

Summary: This mission wasn't supposed to go as badly as it has. There wasn't supposed to be a blizzard, you weren't supposed to get snowed in at a remote cabin, and there certainly was supposed to be more than one bed. And none of this would be a problem were it not for your completely irrational, ill-advised crush on Loki.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, p in v sex, fingering, workplace crushes, There Was Only One Bed.

A/N: I didn't think this was going to be the next fic I posted, but this has been 95% finished for over a year and I just figured out the final 5% in the last 72 hours. Don't ask me how my brain works because I truly don't know sometimes. Also, perhaps after you read this, you will think "hey, I would like to read another fic that involves railing Loki in the middle of a blizzard." Well, my friend, then you should read Some Things Are Easier to Say in the Dark by the great @loki-cees-all because not only is there a blizzard and one bed, it is also beautifully written.

You didn’t expect this mission to go as badly as it has.

It was supposed to be quick, one of those tidy in and out things that almost feels routine—or at least as routine as things ever get in this line of work.

No one counted on a fucking blizzard, though.

It comes upon you suddenly enough to feel suspicious—one moment, it’s slate grey skies and barely a puff of wind and the next thing you know, the wind is howling and whipping at your coat and you can barely see three feet ahead of you.

“What the fuck is this?” you shout at Loki, who looks just as perplexed as you feel. “I thought you said the radar was clear.”

“It was,” he says, frowning. He taps at the screen of the device, an overly complicated piece of tech that you’d delegated to him because Tony’s brief training sessions had made your eyes glaze over. Still, though, you know enough to tell that you’re looking at a weather map and there’s absolutely no sign of the storm that’s howling around you.

An uneasy feeling is bubbling in the pit of your stomach and prickling up the back of your neck. Everything about this feels wrong.

“We need to find shelter,” says Loki. You know him well enough to tell that he’s pretending to be really calm and unbothered because he doesn’t want you to know that something’s wrong. Normally, you’d call him out on that bullshit, but the creepy crawly feeling running up your spine coupled with the storm that doesn’t seem to exist has you itching to get inside as soon as possible.

“There’s a safehouse just west of this hill,” he continues, tapping at the screen.

“Let’s go, then.”

The trek to the safehouse is fairly demanding, even though the distance is short. You’re walking straight into the wind, which seems to grow stronger and more biting by the minute. The snow under your feet grows slick with ice and your pace slows to a crawl, though even that doesn’t stop you from slipping.

The safehouse turns out to be an unassuming cabin that’s a little too shabby to be rustic; in the biting wind and dim light of the storm, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You make it to the door and a few minutes later, you’re inside. 

The cabin has been unoccupied long enough to put a light layer of dust on some of the furniture, but not enough to render anything musty or moth-ridden. It is charming in a way that you don’t normally see with S.H.I.E.L.D. safehouses—handcrafted furniture that’s a little rough around the edges, pine board floors, a squat wood burning stove in the center of the room that makes you want to curl up and read a book. It’s…homey and maybe even comfortable, two qualities that S.H.I.E.L.D. is decidedly not known for. It’s a welcome surprise, given how this mission has gone so far.

Loki bolts the door the moment you’re both inside and quickly turns his attention to the windows. 

“I’m putting up wards,” he says. There’s a grim set to his jaw that you don’t particularly like, largely because you only see it when something is wrong.

The back of your neck prickles.

The wood burning stove is not merely decorative—it’s the cabin’s only heat source. There are a few places that are intended to blend in no matter what—you suspect this is one of them. You manage to get a fire going and you settle yourself in front of it while Loki works. You know enough to not interrupt him, even though you feel like you’re about to bubble over with questions.

It takes him a while to finish warding all the windows and you notice he shuts the curtains for each one once he’s finished, which sends another chill up your spine. When he finally joins you by the fire, he looks a little tired.

“So, I take it you can’t just magic that storm away or something,” you say, with a casual sort of tone that sounds strained even to you.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he says, which you sort of expected. The set of his jaw is still tight. “And even if it did, this isn’t an ordinary storm. Someone is doing this.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that impression.” You pause, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. “Any idea who?”

He shakes his head. “Someone very ancient. Angry.”

You exhale. “Great. Do I want to know what the deal is with the curtains?”

“We should not look outside after the sun sets.”

The skin on the back of your neck prickles. “Why?”

There’s a reason that they call Loki “Silvertongue:” he is a compelling, eloquent speaker. And the somewhat irritating part is that he can do this extemporaneously and effortlessly—he doesn’t need to think about it at all.

So the fact that he pauses for a moment to think scares you a lot. His gaze drifts to the fire, quiet and thoughtful, as though he might find his answers written in the embers.

“Imagine every ghost story you heard as a child coming true,” he says finally.

You don’t like how spare he is on the details, but an icy chill works its way up your spine and you get the eerie sense that someone is listening. Suddenly, you don’t feel like asking any more questions.

“Okay,” you say softly.

*

Being in close quarters with Loki is…something.

There was a time early on, back when you first started working together when you thought something could maybe happen between the two of you. It was hard not to—Loki is attractive, certainly, but he has a particular magnetic quality that can make a stadium full of people think that he’s talking just to them (incidentally, this is also one of the qualities that gets red flags and warnings added to his file at S.H.I.E.L.D.) When you experience that up close, well…it’s intense, to say the least. It becomes easy to believe that his smiles mean something more, that he sees something intriguing in you.

Your feelings for Loki aren’t exactly a crush, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Crushes are silly infatuations that make people do incredibly stupid things and entertain incredibly stupid hopes. You are a professional with a good head on your shoulders: you know better. You’re attracted to him, but it doesn’t matter because nothing is going to happen.

Perhaps more importantly: Loki is a god and you are not. You have a good relationship—your banter comes easily and he seems to enjoy talking to you more than he likes talking to the average person—but it’s strictly professional and that’s all it ever will be. The fact that you’ve been working closely together for three years without a hint of anything romantic only confirms your theory. He’s your colleague, nothing more.

Except…being trapped in a small cabin with him is dredging up a whole swarm of feelings that you would have sworn you had gotten over.

And the storm is showing no signs of stopping.

And there’s only one bed.

It’s a fucking cliché, the kind of thing you’d roll your eyes at if you saw it in a movie or read it in a book, but you’re a professional and you’re also not sleeping on the floor. Besides, you’ve both got sleeping bags and it’s a double bed—it’s not like you’ve got to curl up together or anything.

Not that you’d complain if you had to.

Which, again, is another feeling you thought you were over.

The wood burning stove is doing its best to keep up, but it’s still no match for the storm outside, even though Loki’s done something to the logs to keep them regenerating as they burn. You dig out an extra pair of woolen socks from your pack and pull on your fleece over your sweater and long sleeved thermal. You pile your coat on top of your sleeping bag, along with your share of the scratchy wool blankets you’d pulled out of the cedar chest by the foot of the bed.

Loki watches you with the lightly amused look that always feels like he must be quietly making fun of you.

“What?” you say as you settle yourself under the blankets. “Some of us are delicate mortals who find the cold a little uncomfortable.”

“I said absolutely nothing,” he says, though the glimmer in his eyes undercuts his point.

“You were thinking it.”

“Oh, the things I think of would turn your head, darling.”

You know that there’s no innuendo specific to you in that statement, but your body reacts like there is: your heart and stomach do a complicated series of flips that would put trapeze artists to shame and a heavy, familiar heat stirs hopefully in your hips. Outwardly, you roll your eyes at him and focus on arranging the blankets over your legs. 

“I’m well aware that your mind is a kaleidoscope of horrors,” you say. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t say it’s horrors so much as—”

You recognize that look in his eye: it is the herald of something wildly inappropriate. And while you’re no prude, the reality is that you’re about to share a bed with him and you will have no outlet for whatever feelings of lust this will inevitably provoke. Time to change the subject to something as far away from sex as possible, which happens to be whatever creepy fuckery is happening outside. 

“Speaking of horrors: why are you being so cagey about what’s going on out there?” you say.

You almost feel a little guilty as the teasing expression disappears from his face and settles into something grimmer. “It’s safer this way,” he says as he sets about preparing his own sleeping bag and blankets.

“That doesn’t really answer my question,” you say.

“I know.”

It occurs to you that this is a perfect example of the cryptic bullshit that makes his intentions so hard to read. Is he saying this because he cares about you? Is he trying to prevent problems down the road? All of the above or something else entirely? Nobody fucking knows, least of all you.

You scowl at him and he looks completely unbothered, which is typical.

“I hate it when you do this, you know,” you say.

There’s a slight twitch to his lips that could be a hint of a smile and you’re embarrassed by how giddy that makes you feel. 

“I know,” he says.

“It makes me feel like you don’t trust me or something.”

He stops what he’s doing and looks at you and his face is so honest and open that it makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Of course I trust you,” he says.

There’s something unsaid in his expression and you’re not quite sure what it is, but it leaves you with a warm glow in your chest.

“Okay,” you say softly.

For the briefest of moments, the difference between god and human doesn’t feel so impossibly vast.

But it’s only a moment.

*

You fall asleep quickly, even with Loki lying so close by that you could count his breaths if you wanted to.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. The wind is still howling outside. Your mouth is dry and you fumble on the nightstand for your water bottle. Your fingers close around empty space and it occurs to you that you’d left it over by the fire.

You lie still, staring at the ceiling. The blankets have warmed up with your body heat and you’re not keen to brave the chill of the cabin. You could wake Loki up, maybe ask him to summon your water bottle to you. You nearly snort with laughter at the thought. That would go over well.

After a moment, you muster up all of your strength and willpower and haul yourself out of bed.

It’s not as bad as you thought it would be, in the end. You pad over to the fire and take a long drink from your water bottle, which turns out to be almost empty. You go to the little kitchen to refill it, idly listening to the wind howl outside.

You wonder if it’s still snowing, if the snow is piling up in drifts against the doors and windows, freezing you in. The thought of being stranded here with Loki is admittedly appealing.

Your brain is still a fuzzy from sleep and you’re a little distracted thinking about being snowed in with Loki and for just a moment, you forget what he said about not looking outside. You reach up to the kitchen window and push the fabric of the curtain aside to see how bad the snow is.

You’re not frightened at first because you only see shadows, but after a moment, you realize that the shadows are moving in an unnatural, broken sort of way, like someone had sculpted them into rough facsimiles of people and commanded them to walk, without really explaining what walking was.

Quite suddenly, they all turn and look at you. Or they would be looking at you if they had eyes. There is simply a void where their faces are, though somehow you can tell that their mouths are open, gaping and hungry, showing all of their teeth.

You feel something hook into the thread of your thoughts, tugging and pulling at your mind. The world tilts on its axis and there’s a sharp and white hot burning at the base of your skull that makes you cry out.

In the haze of pain, you think to yourself that it’s like they’re trying to take your soul and the shadows grin at you with too many teeth and a hissing, sibilant chorus of voices says, yes, we are hungry. So very hungry.

You know in that moment that they intend to kill you.

You are leaning closer to the window, your thoughts growing dark and murky as something saws away at the thing that tethers your soul to your body and there is so much pain and all of those horrible spindly hands and grinning mouths are reaching for you—

Someone is grabbing you around the waist and you scream because you think this must be the end, but instead, they’re pulling you away from the window and yanking the curtain closed and you realize it’s Loki.

There is a flash of green light and the connection between you and whatever is outside breaks abruptly and the pain retreats to a dull ache, like your body is carefully starting to repair those shredded, fraying threads that the shadows were tugging on. 

Loki’s eyes are wild and he looks at you like he half expects you to disintegrate or melt into the shadows. You are suddenly shaking so badly that your legs start to buckle.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” you say through chattering teeth. The cold you feel is bone deep and unnatural. “F-f-forgot.”

“Foolish girl.” He says it without malice, almost with affection, though his face is drawn tight with something like worry. Your legs are about to fail you, but he’s right there before they can, scooping you up into his arms like it’s nothing.

You snuggle up against his chest almost automatically, your body instinctively seeking out heat. “S-s-s-sorry, c-c-c-cold,” you manage to squeak out.

“I know,” he says and it almost sounds gentle. He is carrying you across the room and climbing back into bed with you in his arms, drawing the pile of blankets and sleeping bags over the two of you. 

The wind howls and you shudder, realizing for perhaps the first time that it may not be the wind making those noises. Loki stiffens, his grip on you tightening. 

“Did you see their eyes?”

You shake your head.

You feel some of the tension leave him, though not all.

You have so many questions, but that unnatural, bone deep cold is making you sluggish and sleepy and your teeth are chattering so hard you wonder if you’d even be able to speak at all.

“You need to rest,” he says. The cold feels like the sort of thing that could easily claim you while you sleep and he must see that fear reflected in your eyes because his expression softens ever so slightly. “Rest. I’ll keep you safe.”

You don’t like how quickly that line melts you. You tell yourself that it’s only because you’re so cold and tired, but you know that’s not entirely true. 

You allow your head to drop to his chest and he readjusts his grip on you, smoothing one hand against your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head. You try to catalog all of the different senses—the way he smells like snow and pine, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his arms wrapped around you—but sleep is pulling insistently at your eyelids and you find yourself struggling to stay awake.

“Rest,” he says, and this time it sounds like a command.

Your eyes slowly slide shut and sleep finally claims you.

It seems like you sleep for a long time. Your dreams are strange and unsettling and have an odd sort of veneer, like they’re real but not quite. 

The first time you wake up, it’s because of a nightmare. You are back at the window and the things outside are threading their fingers underneath the panes, reaching for you with their spindly hands, clacking their too sharp teeth. You don’t know where Loki is and you’re trying to back away as they reach for you, and one of them is wrapping its fingers around your wrist and you can see its eyes and—

You thrash out in your sleep and gentle hands are soothing you. You wake abruptly, shaking, blearily looking up at Loki’s face.

“They—they were coming for me,” you manage to sputter out.

“Shh.” Loki is stroking your back. “You’re safe. I won’t let them harm you.”

Your pounding heartbeat takes a moment to settle, but the gentle pressure of Loki’s hands on your back calms you slightly. There’s a tenderness in his actions that you don’t necessarily expect, but it also feels so right and natural that you wonder how you could have ever been surprised by it.

“What are they?” you ask.

“That’s an answer for daylight, love,” he says. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe.”

You want to protest and push for answers, but you’re so very tired and he’s smoothing your hair again and you can feel exhaustion tugging at your eyelids, ready to pull you back under.

“I’m holding you to that,” you manage to mumble at him. “I’m not going to forget.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Sleep, darling.”

You fall back under.

Your dreams are still wild and strange this time around. You wake again a few hours later, teeth chattering and tears streaming down your face. Loki wraps you even more tightly in his arms, drawing more blankets over the two of you, conjuring an additional pile of furs. You try to tell him to save his magic for the wards and the fire, but he hushes you and mutters something about how that’s not exactly how it works, even though you’re pretty sure it is.

You sleep again.

You have a half memory of him quieting you and pressing his lips against your forehead, but you’re not quite sure if it’s real or wishful thinking.

When you wake again, it’s still dark and the wind is still howling. The cold has retreated somewhat—it’s not as sharp, not as biting, but you still need the warmth of the blankets and Loki’s arms to keep it at bay.

You’re a bit more clearheaded now, so there’s part of you that feels a little embarrassed about what happened. It was a stupid mistake. Rookie level. You know better.

“Are you awake?” Loki’s voice rumbles pleasantly against your ear.

“Sort of.” You hope he continues holding you. You’re not quite ready to give up his warmth or his arms just yet.

“How is one ‘sort of’ awake? Either you aren’t or you are,” he says.

“I’m very talented,” you say. It’s not particularly funny, but he humors you with a soft laugh, more exhalation than anything else.

“How do you feel?” he asks.

“Still cold,” you say. While it is true, you’re also secretly hoping that the more you emphasize this, the more likely he is to continue holding you. “It’s better than it was, but it’s still bad.”

As if to prove a point, a shudder works its way through you. Loki shifts, rolling over so his body covers yours, pulling the blankets up so they cover your shoulders. It helps, but there’s now a degree of intimacy there that makes your heart stumble in your chest and your breath catch in your throat. You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but with his green eyes bright above you, you can’t help but hope he does.

Leave it to him to ruin the moment.

“That was very foolish of you,” he says, his expression becoming serious and his voice taking on that hard edge that you only hear when he’s trying to pick a fight.

You exhale sharply. “Are you seriously trying to do this right now? I told you it was an accident. I was half asleep.”

“I’m not fond of close calls,” he says tightly.

“Oh bullshit,” you snap. “You fucking love chaos, don’t tell—”

“It’s not chaos, it was foolish and dangerous—”

“For fuck’s sake, do you think I’m not aware of that? I’m not—”

“You could have died.” He’s not yelling, but he’s raising his voice and there’s an unexpectedly strained quality to his tone that you don’t know what to do with. “It’s not chaos, it’s not an accident, it’s—”

For a moment, he seems like he might be at a loss for words, and for some reason, this enrages you.

“It’s what, Loki?” you say with more venom than you intend. “Please enlighten me, since you’re such a fucking expert.”

You’re not quite sure what line you’ve crossed, but you think it must be an important one based on how angry he looks.

“You truly are infuriating,” he says. “You nearly get yourself killed and you have the audacity to speak that way to me after I save your life!?”

And before you can say a word, he brings his mouth down on yours in a bruising kiss.

His tongue sweeps past your lips, seeking out yours, demanding and hungry. Your response is reflexive and instinctive, your lips parting, tongue meeting his. You return his kiss, even though you’re still a little mad at him and he’s maybe still a little mad at you. But his mouth loses that hard edge as you kiss him back, his touch turning softer, more tender, but still urgent and wanting.

“Do not scare me like that ever again,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you in between words, each pause punctuated by the soft caress of his lips, the silky warmth of his tongue. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?”

You are astonished and somewhat perplexed. “I…I didn’t even know that you…that you wanted this—“

“Darling, I have thought of little else.”

His mouth covers yours again and you are drowning in the feeling of him. The cold that has settled in your bones is melting like snow in springtime. You move your hands along his shoulders, tentative at first, then a little braver. You thread your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft and smooth it is. He deepens the kiss, his fingertips tracing the curve of your cheekbones. 

It’s dizzingly good and you want more. You need more. You arch against him in a clear invitation, reveling in how perfectly his body fits against yours. He sighs and presses back against you briefly before pulling away.

“You should rest,” he says, his voice slightly strained. “You experienced some very powerful magic—I don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“I won’t,” you say, tugging him back down to you. He allows this for a moment, his hands cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss with toe curling intensity.

And then he draws back.

“You really do need to rest,” he says.

You shake your head. “I need you, Loki.”

His lips and tongue are just as insistent as yours when you pull him back into a kiss. You can feel him growing hard against your thigh and when you wrap your legs around his waist and rock your hips against him, he groans and nips at your lip before withdrawing again.

“Darling,” he says, his voice a little hoarse, like he’s barely holding himself back.

“I can stay on my back,” you say.

“Appealing as that is, you’re rather ignoring my point.”

“And you’re ignoring mine,” you say, rolling your hips again. His eyes close for a moment as he presses back against you, his hand sliding along your thigh. Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him back down into a kiss that he returns without protest.

You catch his lower lip between your teeth and he sucks in a deep breath as he grinds his hips against you.

“Please,” you breathe. “I need you so bad.”

He groans as he lowers his head to the column of your throat. “I’m trying to keep you safe and you’re tempting me like this.”

“Touch me and tell me I need to rest more than I need you.”

It’s a bold thing to say and your heart pounds with anticipation as you feel him nip at your collarbone. His hand pauses at your hip, so close to where you need him. You wait a moment and then take his hand in yours and guide it underneath your waistband and between your legs. He lifts his head, gaze snapping to yours and the moment that his fingers graze your slickness, you know that you’ve won.

“Oh, you’re dripping,” he says, his voice dropping and his eyes darkening with lust as his fingers swipe across your clit.

You’re tempted to tell him that you told him so, but this still feels so fragile and tenuous that you settle for a more flattering truth: “Loki, I need you.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” He shifts on top of you so that you feel the hard press of his cock against your hip.

“Same thing that you’re doing to me,” you say. “Which is why I need you to fuck me.”

He sighs, but his fingers don’t stop moving. “You really ought to rest.”

“I can stay on my back,” you say. “You can take me really slowly and gently. Think about how good that will feel.”

“Darling,” he says. You can see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes and you know that you’ve almost won. You feel your orgasm starting to coil like a snake in your belly and you moan, rocking your hips with his hand.

“Loki.” You lick your lips. “Don’t you want to feel me come on your cock?”

You know the exact moment he gives in—you see it in his eyes. Less than a second later, he’s sliding one long finger inside of you and curling it just right.

“Not before I finish what I started.” His voice is a low growl.

“Yes,” you breathe, letting your head tip back against the pillow. “God, that feels so good.”

“I can feel you trembling,” he says, his voice rough. “Are you going to come for me already? I’ve barely touched you.”

“I told you: I need you,” you say.

He raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening in a very attractive way. “You’re not getting pert with me, are you?”

There’s a particular tone to his voice, a sternness that makes you shiver. Something to explore later, perhaps—right now, you need him too badly to play games.

“No, just trying to emphasize that I need you.”

“Are you really that desperate for me? Do you really need me that much? Surely you could touch yourself, surely you don’t need me that badly.”

You know that he’s saying that to amp you up, to tease you. But you are also so desperate to come that the idea of not having him is beyond comprehension.

“I do,” you say, a bit of desperate note making its way into your voice. “I need you, Loki, I need to come for you, need you to fuck me, please don’t make me wait, please, please, please—”

He stops your mouth with a kiss as he eases a second finger inside of you. “I’m going to take care of you, sweet thing,” he says as you gasp at the stretch. 

His fingers are curling inside of you, his thumb working your clit in small, tight circles that are pushing you closer and closer to the edge as a fantastic pressure builds inside of you.

“Oh, that’s it.” His eyes are dark, pupils wide and lust-blown. “I can feel how close you are.” He brings his lips to your ear. “Come for me and then I’ll fuck you properly.”

Your breath hitches as you reach your peak. “Oh god—I—fuck, I’m coming, I’m—”

Your voice cuts out as you come, pure pleasure blooming low in your hips, your back arching against the mattress as Loki works you through it, murmuring soft encouragement as he watches you shake in his arms.

“You’re beautiful when you come undone,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Utterly stunning.”

You fumble for the waistband of his pants, your fingers slipping over the fastenings. “I need you,” you say, tugging at the fabric.

His mouth curls into a smile, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Are you quite certain?”

Leather yields to warm skin and you slide your hand into his pants, wrapping your fingers around his cock. He inhales sharply as you stroke him, his eyes turning dark.

“You’re presenting a very compelling argument,” he says.

“Think about how good you’ll feel inside of me,” you say, gently increasing the pressure on his shaft as you move your hand.

“Norns, woman.” But he’s rolling on top of you as he says this and sliding his pants off his hips. He pauses briefly to divest you of your pants and underwear. A shiver works through you during the brief moment when your bare skin is exposed to the chill of the room…and he notices right away, hesitating slightly as his brow furrows in concern.

“Don't you dare stop,” you say. “I don’t care if I get hypothermia and die, I will straight up implode if you don’t fuck me right now.”

He chuckles, pulling more blankets around the two of you as he settles himself between your thighs. “Are you always so demanding?”

“Look, you’ve been teasing me for the last twenty minutes and you’ve been strutting around in those fucking leather pants for a lot longer, so forgive me if I’m a little impatient.”

He pauses above you, his expression deadly serious. “Let's get one thing quite clear, my love: I do not strut.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes and you smirk back at him. “You totally do.”

He lines up the tip of his cock with your entrance. “I walk with the gravitas and stature appropriate to my station.”

“You strut and I know you strut because it’s extremely distracting.”

His smile is sly. “Tell me more about how I distract you.”

“You make me think about doing this with you.”

The tip of his cock eases into you. “Do I? How often, would you say?”

“All the time.”

He sinks in another inch. “All the time?”

“Mmmhm.”

One more inch. “That does sound terribly distracting.”

“You’re still trying to tease me,” you say and he grins and gives you another inch.

“You wouldn’t want me as much if I didn’t.”

“I’d want you always, no matter what.”

His gaze turns serious and he leans into kiss you, his hands stroking your cheek as he sinks into you fully, all the way to the hilt. You gasp, your walls stretching to accommodate him, your legs wrapping around his waist to hold him even closer. He’s still for a moment, his eyes shut.

He opens them.

“I’ve waited so long to have you,” he murmurs.

“You have me,” you say. “You always have.”

He kisses you deeply as he starts moving, slow as honey, sweetness in every thrust of his hips or touch of his lips. He fills you in a way that you’ve never experienced, his cock bumping up against that tender place inside you, making you gasp and pull him deeper. 

It builds slowly and steadily, the muscles of your cunt tightening as he takes you higher. You shudder as your climax builds.

“That’s it, my love,” he breathes. “That’s it.”

You inhale sharply, your orgasm swelling within you, rising, about to pull you under. You ride that wave, your hips rocking with his. You try and hold on for as long as you can because he feels so good and you don’t want it to end, but eventually, it becomes too much.

You keen and he kisses you. “Come for me, darling. Let me feel you come.”

Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and all your muscles tense and release as you come. Loki sucks in a sharp breath, brow furrowing.

“Fuck.” His pace increases slightly. “You’re divine.”

Less than a second later, he’s also unraveling, his expression of ecstasy particularly beautiful in the flickering firelight. Even in the hazy afterglow of your own pleasure, you can’t help but stare at him, utterly spellbound.

As soon as he catches his breath, he kisses you deeply and slows to a halt, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

“I don’t want to say I told you so—” you start.

“That’s a lie.” His reply is prompt and accompanied by another deep kiss.

You smile against his lips. “Okay, maybe I did want to say I told you so.”

“Better.”

You feel pleasantly loose and sleepy, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. He seems to notice your fatigue and raises an eyebrow. “Is this the part where I say I told you so?” he asks as he slowly eases out of you.

“Mmm, but it was so worth it,” you say. “So I’m basically right.”

“That’s not how that works,” he says.

“I’m not listening to you,” you say. “I need to recover my strength.”

“Now you’re just being pert.” He shifts to his side and draws you close so he’s spooned up against your back.

“You like it,” you say, barely stifling a yawn.

“Mmm, I do,” he says, drawing the pile of blankets back over you both. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yeah, but don’t go anywhere.”

You feel him smile as he presses a kiss against the back of your neck. “I don’t intend to.”

“Good.”

You both fall asleep like this, wrapped around each other, warm and safe from the storm outside.

[violetflowerswrites]

It’s Always Been You

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Summary: Loki has been in love with his childhood best friend for years. She, on the hand, has never seen him as more than a brotherly type. How will he react when the love of his life shows up in the middle of the night, in his bedroom, professing her desire for him at long last?

Warnings: sickeningly sweet professions of love, fluff AND lots and lots of smut, mentions of loss and grief, oral (female and male receiving), p in v sex, virgin reader, no use of Y/N, language, 18+

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I’ve been reading the most romantic historical fiction lately and I just loved the idea of a romantic, head-over-heels in love Loki! Enjoy my take on a smutty, fluffy, friends to lovers Loki fic!

“Oh hells!”

Your high-heeled foot snagged on the hem of your dress, and you neatly tumbled into the ornately carved door in front of you.

Your hands slammed into the wall with a dull thud as you regained your balance, muttering curses under your breath all the while.

Frantic, you scanned down the vast, empty halls, and you were assured no one heard you.

Thank gods that Thor, in his delirious birthday drunkenness, had given the night off to the palace guards. You were certain they were happily drowning themselves in kegs and kegs of drink in the servants’ quarters below.

Trying not to lose your nerve, you creaked open the door. The sound of your own breath was deafening in your ears.

In the slit of torch light from the hall, you could just make out a lone sleeping figure in the bed, dark hair messily splayed out on a pillow. One pale, toned arm slung behind his head. A slight rise and fall of his chest told you he hadn’t been awoken by your little tumble.

Or he was just pretending to be asleep.

He was Loki after all.

The trickster god.

Brother of Thor, son of Odin.

Second prince of Asgard.

And your best friend in all of the 9 realms.

At least he was. Nowadays, you weren’t so sure what exactly, was the nature of your relationship.

A rustling of the sheets made you flinch, shaking you out of your thoughts.

Immediately, you regretted everything. You turned too quickly, tangling yourself on your ridiculous emerald gown again. The clumsy stomp of you saving yourself from falling flat on your ass, rang out loudly. If he wasn’t awake before, he certainly was now.

Your shoulders braced against the sleepy drawl of his voice.

”Well. I’ve imagined you in my bedroom many times my dear, but certainly not out of your own volition.”

Your ears flushed hotly at the thought of what in the worlds Loki had fantasized would happen with you.

Here.

In his bed.

How little did he know that your own traitorous mind could not stop thinking about the very same thing. It’s what brought you here, practically against your own will, and definitely against your better judgement, to his door in the middle of the night.

“I’ve thought of many a method to convince you. Dragging you kicking and screaming was an appealing one. Or perhaps a love potion. A persuasive spell was another.” He rambled on leisurely. “I hadn’t quite decided and yet—“

“I want you.”

At your interruption, Loki paused mid-sentence. He took in your face as a multitude of emotions flashed across it. Regret, and apprehension. But there was desire there too. Determination. A desperation and openness he hasn’t seen since the two of you were much younger.

Since before tragedy had hardened your heart.

“Come here, my love.”

Your heart practically melted at the endearment. Loki has flirted with you constantly for years, feeding all sorts of wild rumors in the court.

But somehow, tonight, in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, you finally believed him.

That underneath all the joking and teasing, he really did love you.

With a flick of his wrist, Loki lit the lamps, bathing the room in a soft amber glow.

He rose from the bed and the sheets gracefully fell away, revealing a shirtless Loki in a pair of loose fitting pants.

Not much was left to the imagination and seeing him like this, in this context, made your face heat up like a furnace.

Slowly, Loki took one of your hands in both of his. His green eyes studied your expression with an intensity that made you want to look away. But you didn’t. You held his gaze steadily and met it with the same intensity.

The same passion.

“You’re serious about this.” His words came out in a whisper. All the humor left his tone as he regarded you with awe.

Not trusting your own voice, you took the smallest step closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies.

Loki was utterly baffled. He’d spent his whole life watching you. Observing you. Studying you.

He knew every expression, every nervous habit—like how you cracked your knuckles right before you had to talk to someone you hated (which was everyone at court). Or how your eyes crinkled in affection and sadness anytime you saw your father with Odin.

The way you rolled your eyes at his idiot brother’s boasting.

And your raised eyebrows and slight smirk whenever Loki pulled yet another prank on him.

Loki knew what you looked like when you steeled yourself for battle. How your shoulders drew back, your hands gripped your sword, and your eyes sharpened with a predatory focus.

He knew that your jaw would clench in pain, and your face fall into an impassive mask at the mere mention of your fallen Valkyrie mother.

Only for him to find you in silent tears in your favorite hidden corner of the library that only he knew about.

He knew that any romantic advance he would make towards you would be met with a laugh, a painful shove to the floor, or a condescending pat on the head. Along with a decisive declaration that he was “like a brother” to you, and nothing more.

But tonight, in this moment, Loki was struck with two things that went directly against everything he thought he knew about you.

One.

Ever since your mother was slain in battle, you hated being touched. By anyone. Even your own father.

Two.

You never, ever allowed yourself to be commanded by anyone other than Odin, your father, or your Valkyrie generals. Loki couldn’t tell you to do a goddamn thing. Nor Thor for that matter.

And yet, when he asked for you, you approached him willingly.

You let him hold your hand.

And now, you were looking at him expectantly. As if you were asking to be kissed.

“If this is a dream, don’t wake me.” Loki breathed into your mouth right as he sealed his lips over yours.

At the first taste of him, your body relaxed all the tension you didn’t realize you were holding. He tasted of spiced wine and smelled of parchment and evergreen wood like the palace library. You inhaled deeply and unconsciously pulled him closer to you by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

“You smell like the library.” You smiled. Of course he would smell like your safe place.

“Where do you think I spend all my time hiding from my family?” Loki joked, his hands held your waist as if this was an everyday occurance.

“And with me.” You retorted playfully. You were a battle strategist before you were a warrior. People called you calculating, and ruthless in war, but Loki saw you as brilliant and under appreciated by the Valkyrie’s and his father. Where your mother was a fearsome, powerful commander, you were just as fierce, in intellect instead.

It’s what drew the two of you together to be fast friends since you were young. And formidable partners on the battlefield. Thor would dive headfirst into the enemy, relying on brute force. But you and Loki stood back, observed, made a plan, and vanquished the opponent by outsmarting them.

So Loki knew your actions weren’t a spur of the moment, brash decision of lust. It was meticulously decided. Every possible outcome had been weighed and mulled over. And somehow, you had landed on finally coming to his side.

He kissed you again, softly, as if to reassure himself you were really there. Really letting him hold you and kiss you.

He led you to the bed and sat you down and knelt before you in full surrender. He looked up at you, emerald eyes shining with emotion.

“I have not an inkling as to what caused your change of heart, but I will do anything in my power to please you. Anything to make you happy. I am yours, and I’ve been yours for years.” Loki confessed with reverence, and he brought your hand to his lips.

You stilled the slight tremor of his hand by holding it in your warm palms. A rush of power, and thrill, raced up your spine as you gazed down at Loki, a prince of Asgard, prone at your feet, professing his loyalty and love to you, a mere woman. Well, a formidable, intelligent, warrior-woman, but not by any means a goddess nor princess.

“Loki.” You breathed out his name with a clear realization. This man, no, this god, was truly, deeply, and undoubtedly in love with you.

You decided to be fully transparent with him. He deserved to know how you truly felt about him.

“Loki, you know I trust you. I trust you with my life on the battlefield, with my position in this court of snakes, with the well-being of my father and myself, especially after Mother died.” Your voice started to tremble with emotion.

You thought back to sleepless nights as a teenager, where you were awake with grief. And Loki, lonely Loki, was the only one who could understand your loss. In a land that professed to be paradise, and buried pain, Loki relished in it, understood it, harnessed its power.

He was an orphan, an outcast in his own kingdom, in his own family. He knew grief. He knew suffering.

But when he saw it in you, all his selfish ambition faded away into wanting to protect you from ever hurting like that again.

”I remember.” Loki murmured, looking at your intertwined hands.

“You cared for me Loki. You always have. You were the one who sat with me in my grief until the sun rose in the library. You were the one who vouched for my abilities in battle and saved me from death countless times. You were the one who drove away unwanted suitors who were after my power, not my heart.”

“By courting you myself instead.” Loki chuckled. He thought back to the first time he cracked a half-hearted joke about proposing to you and you, in full shock and embarrassment, kicked his feet out from under him, knocked the wind out of his lungs, and threatened him at sword point to never make a joke like that again.

So of course his flirting has been unrelentless ever since.

“You know, I didn’t believe you at first.” You laughed with him, and the sound was as beautiful as the most talented Asgardian musicians could play.

“I was serious the whole time. And still am.” Loki confirmed.

“I knew you loved me. I never doubted it. And I knew as we grew older that that love had become more than friendship. More than family. But…” You hesitated, unsure how to form into words what you were feeling.

“But what, my dear? You still haven’t answered me. Why the change of heart if you knew I loved you for all this time?” Loki pressed gently.

”I—I knew I loved you as well.” You confessed, and Loki inhaled sharply. “Like a brother! Like a best friend.” You clarified, but continued on.

“I’ve been thinking over for a long time if I’d ever want to be with someone. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it was in my future. I’m too cold, too hardened for love.”

Loki opened his mouth to refute this but you held up a palm to stay his words.

“But my heart changed. I don’t know when it began, but I started missing you. I found myself wandering around the palace, looking for you. And when we weren’t in the library together, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, wanting you to be by my side at every boring council meeting, every court function where I had to show up alone, yet again. And in the evenings, when the weight of my grief and loneliness felt too much to bear, I longed for you, Loki.” You felt another flush creep up your chest. It was beyond embarrassing to be this honest with Loki right in front of you.

“So tonight, watching women fawn over your brother, the court in drunken lust from wine, and everyone sneaking into beds that were not those of their wives, I just kept wondering…” You trailed off, definitely too shy to say what you really thought.

”Who was in mine?” Loki finished for you.

You buried your face in your hands and nodded, your own cheeks hot to the touch. At that, Loki rose up and sat next to you on the mattress.

Gently, he pried apart your fingers and was shocked to see tears lining your eyes, making them sparkle in the lamplight.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else sharing your bed and I don’t know what I was thinking, barging in here to—I don’t know—spy on you? Confront you?” You babbled, feeling like a fool, and utterly overwhelmed with emotion. You wanted to curse whoever invented love; you felt awash at sea, and totally out of control.

“There was never anyone, my love.” Loki wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the idea was that he wanted anyone other than you.

But instead, he leaned in and kissed the tears away from your eyes.

“It has always been you. Only you.”

You let yourself be caressed by his kisses, by his touch. His fingers danced across your collarbone and pulled down the soft fabric covering your shoulders.

“Do you still want me?” Loki murmured against your shoulder. His eyes flicked up to meet yours. In them you could see for yourself, his love, his loyalty. His deep, yearning want for you and you alone.

“Yes.” You breathed out the single syllable with all the love, all the desire in your heart.

“Let me show you how the only person I could ever want, could ever love, is you, my dear.”

This time, it was you who initiated the kiss. Cupping under his chin, you drew Loki’s beautiful face to yours and pressed your lips to his waiting ones.

An unseemly moan escaped from your throat and Loki startled, but didn’t let you pull back.

Instead, his deft fingers found the tightly knotted ribbons on the back of your gown and tugged them free. Your dress fell in swaths of fabric at your waist, revealing soft breasts with nipples that pebbled in the nightly breeze.

Loki brushed his fingers across the tops of your breasts until he found your sensitive nubs and pinched them softly.

You’ve never had a lover, and so the only touch your body knew was your own.

But Loki, sweet, sensual Loki—his touch. His touch was magical. Your body immediately reacted and you were under his spell.

“Loki—what are you—!” You failed to form coherent phrases as you gripped his shoulders, your head buried in his neck.

“You are beautiful, my love.” He swooped your hair across your shoulder and kissed the hot skin of your exposed neck. His lips trailed further down until he reached your nipples and swiftly sucked them into his mouth.

“Ah!”

“And very, very sensitive.” Loki grinned and clamped a hand on the other breast, pinching harder while his tongue swirled circles.

Getting overwhelmed, you couldn’t decide whether to pull his face away from your chest, or bury him deeper. But when you felt teeth on your flesh, you drew back, startled.

“Loki!” You gasped in shock. “You bit me!”

“A love bite,” Loki bit down on the other nipple. “Do you like it?” He teased you, mischievously.

“L-Loki!” You sputtered out, unsure what to say.

“I love it when you’re speechless.” Loki laughed. “It’s a rare occurrence.”

At that, he finally released your breasts and gripped the back of your head. He crushed his lips to yours with so much force, you were certain it would bruise.

But you kissed him back just as forcefully, relishing how soft, how hot, how wet his mouth was. You’ve seen lovers practically eat each other when they kissed and it always made you want to throw up in disgust.

But when Loki kissed you, all you could think was this:

Kissing Loki was lighting you on fire.

“I want that sharp tongue of yours.” Loki suddenly panted out.

“What?” You sucked in some air, still figuring out when to breathe while making out.

“Put your tongue in my mouth. I want to taste you.”

“Oh my gods, you can’t just say that—!”

He interrupted your embarrassment by devouring your mouth, forcing it open, and you hesitantly obeyed by sticking your tongue out.

His firm, wet muscle somehow tangled with yours, sliding across with certainty. The feeling was foreign but not unpleasant.

Far from it.

In fact, his tongue was sending vibrations of lust straight to your core. You could feel your innermost muscles contract and release in desire.

You were practically humming with want.

“Mmm!” You moaned, “L-Loki!”

“How was that for you, my dear?” Loki swiped his tongue along his lips, making a show of savoring your taste.

“G-good.” You stuttered, swollen lips making it hard to speak.

“Just ‘good’? I was hoping for higher praise.” Loki teased you, his arrogant side appearing. “No matter. I’ll show you what else this tongue can do.”

He pulled your dress off your hips and was met with a welcome surprise.

“Nothing underneath?” He stared at you in lustful awe and a grin split his face.

You couldn’t meet his eyes and resisted the urge to cover your body. So you simply shook your head.

“Well then. Let’s see how you taste.” With that, Loki dove headfirst between your legs. His firm grip pulled each of your thighs up to give him clear access to your dripping center.

You twisted the bedsheets in your fists when you felt it.

When you felt him.

Gods, Loki’s tongue worked wonders on your pussy. His tongue explored every fold while your center gushed and throbbed uncontrollably. He kissed, stroked, and invaded your flesh as deep as he could go.

The most sinful, wet, squelching sounds came from where Loki’s face was buried in you and you found it impossible to keep from moaning continuously.

“Ohhh!” You cried out. “It’s too much!”

“That’s it, my darling.” Loki encouraged you. “Let go.”

He returned back to your pussy, finding your clit this time and swiping his tongue rhythmically across it.

“Oh my gods!” You screamed. “I can’t—!”

You inadvertently clamped your strong thighs against Loki’s head, holding him against your clit as the orgasm ripped through your body.

You had always kept a tight reign on yourself and Loki unraveled every ounce of self-control you ever had. The sounds that ripped from your throat could not have been you. The whimpers, the erotic moans, the ragged gasps.

Where was the Valkyrie? The strategist? The warrior?

At his touch, you melted under Loki’s command for the first time. How quickly the tables had turned the instant you fell in love.

These thoughts ran rampant in your head as you gathered your wits post-orgasm. Now feeling boneless, your knees dropped to the side and Loki freed himself.

You looked down and wanted to laugh. His hair was plastered to ruddy, sweaty cheeks. Dribbles of your juices were smeared all over his chin. His chest and neck flushed red with the exertion that was eating you out within an inch of your life.

He was a mess. And you made him that way.

“Come here.” Now it was your turn to command him. You swiped the juices off his face and smoothed his hair back with your fingers.

“Make love to me.” You locked eyes with him, letting him see your conviction. ”Be mine.”

Loki stared at you, robbed of words. He tugged himself free of his clothing and sat back on his heels. You couldn’t help but stare at his cock. It was a soft, fleshy pink, engorged with veins protruding on the shaft. A small drop of liquid formed on the bulbous, angry looking head. And, unsurprisingly, it was sizable in length and girth.

It was the cock of a god—that you weren’t sure you could handle.

“I have been yours from the beginning.” Loki replied with awe in his voice. “But if I fuck you…if I take your virgin pussy tonight…”

“Loki!” Your eyebrows shot up as you exclaimed at how dirty his words were.

“You belong to me as well.” Loki’s voice grew serious. His green eyes darkened in desire and he crawled across your body until he caged you in his arms. You held your breath, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable underneath him.

Loki had never been intimidating to you. In fact, as children, you often bested him in both duels and in lessons. But now, your eyes were glued to the muscles of his chest, to the ripple of his abs. He drew back, kneeling on the bed with your hips between his knees. Your gaze viewed him completely differently now that you saw him as a man. As a lover.

For Loki, it was a sight he burned into his memory. Your flushed skin, the sharp rise and fall of your beautiful breasts betraying your desire for him. Eyes awash in lust and love that had once only regarded him with equal parts familial affection and sisterly impatience.

“I’m not letting you go.” Truer words had never been spoken from his lips. You belonged to him and him alone.

A shiver of excitement shuddered through your body. You knew you were growing wet just from his words. A flirtatious jest in the past, but now? His possessiveness made your body sing with want.

Your next words came easily. You had surrendered your control, your desire, the whole of your being to Loki the moment you found yourself in his bedroom and confessed “I want you.”

“Do it.” You challenged him with a sinful smile. “Fuck me, Loki.”

Loki released a growl from clenched teeth and threw himself on you. A sharp grip enclosed on your jaw, fingers dangerously close to your throat as he kissed you like a man possessed.

“Mmm, more! L-Loki!” You managed to cry out between breaths.

Loki could sense your need because he pulled that bothersome green dress over your head and continued to kiss you all over your hot, tortured skin.

”Did you wear my favorite color on purpose, my love?” Loki teased you, sucking your earlobe into his mouth.

The sensation was ticklish, and made you squirm.

“Perhaps,” you giggled. You never giggled like this. Who was this woman who was so quickly undone by the touch of a man?

“You looked ravishing in it.” Loki whispered hotly into your ear. “I couldn’t stop staring at you all night.”

He kissed down your body once again, hands holding your wrists above your head so that you couldn’t escape his grip.

“It made my mind wander, my love.” Loki confessed to you now. “To a dark and hungry place. You don’t know how long you’ve tortured my mind,” another kiss, “and my heart.”

“How many times have you thought about…” a groan of pleasure broke through your lips, “a-about having me, Loki?” You strained out the question as your back arched from Loki’s teeth on your nipples.

Loki spread your thighs now, looking down at the glistening sheen of your core. You were more than prepared for him to enter. His mind seemed far away as he stared down at you.

“Beyond counting.” His answer came out in a whisper.

He couldn’t believe this was finally happening. All the years of watching, of longing for your glance. Searching for your attention, your affection. And you would give it to him, in your laughter at his sarcastic remarks, in the comfortable silence of reading side by side in the library. In your knowing eye contact across a crowded room, or a confident nod on the battlefield. He had your trust, he had your friendship, but now, at long last…

He had your love.

You mistook Loki’s hesitation for uncertainty on your part.

But you felt a certainty deep in your soul. You had never been more sure of your decision in your life. You and Loki—there could never have been any other.

This was right.

This was good.

This was love.

“You need not wait any longer, my love.” You spoke with a softness you have not been able to voice in years. Loki was bringing out sides of you that you didn’t know you had.

At your words, Loki pushed into you for the first time, his ears ringing with your endearment over and over.

My Love.

“Ah!” A gasp wrenched from your throat. The initial breach—painful and sharp— was immediately soothed with throbbing waves of pleasure. “L-Loki! It feels—!”

He thrust forward, harder, deeper into you. His hands pulled the back of your knees into himself so he could gain even more access to your wettened, clenching core.

My Love.

You could feel the stretch, the penetration. The sensation teetered on the edge of pleasure and pain unlike anything you had known before. Your body responded, molded to his size, as if it were made for sex. Made for his cock. Made for him.

My Love.

Loki’s arms wrapped around you now, and he pressed his chest to yours. His hips slammed down, pulling out only to push in once again. Ravenous. Hungry. Passionate. Your hands found his hair and held on, your bodies twisted and tangled like only lovers could.

A keening whine released from your lungs. It was overwhelming being fucked by Loki. It was so sinfully good and you didn’t know how much more you could take. And yet, at the same time, you felt utterly insatiable.

“Mmmh! S-so much! It’s so much!” You whimpered.

Sweat dripped down the side of his face from the exertion. On impulse, you licked it. Salty and tangy. A taste that belonged solely to your lover.

Loki whipped his head back to look at you in surprise. A smile lit up his whole face and he looked like the carefree boy from your youth.

And it made you fall for him all over again.

Somehow, in each other's arms, you could forget the pain, forget the sufferings the both of you had endured.

Tonight, with Loki’s body wrapped in yours, as close as any two people could be, you felt a serenity and a fullness that could only be found in a soulmate.

“Ah!” You squealed. “My love, slow down a moment.” You panted out after a particularly rough thrust.

You kissed his flushed face. “I want to savor this.”

Loki paused, his face scrunched up from passion, now relaxed into affection. You had a feeling he could keep going for hours without tiring. You, on the other hand, had already come once.

“Of course, my dear.”

He carefully eased out of you, and your core clamped down, unwilling to let go. The slow stretch and pull was an encaptivating sensation, well-lubricated by your juices.

“Ohhhh my gods!” You mewled, a high-pitched, desperate sound. Loki, for his part, gasped at the sudden pressure on his cock. Then he groaned as he felt you throb into another orgasm.

Twice. Now he had made you come twice. After the peak of your high passed, your core finally released him and Loki fell back heavily on the bed.

He stared at you with the most gobsmacked expression. “T-that was incredible.”

You slowly sat up, legs shaking, chest heaving. You reached for him and Loki scrambled to hold you. You rested your spinning head on his shoulder, trying to calm down.

“One more,” you murmured into his skin once you had recovered your senses. “I want one more.”

“Anything for you, my love.” Loki obeyed you without question, but this time, he let you set the pace.

Gingerly, now suddenly aware of how sore your pussy was becoming, you climbed into his lap and held his cock in your right hand. The weight surprised you, and you squeezed it gently, feeling how firm he still was.

“C-careful my darling!” Loki gasped out. “I don’t want to come before you do.”

“Is that so?” You teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye. Loki recognized that look. It was the look you had right before you bested him. Right before you knew victory was imminent.

Before he could react, you brought your lips down to his cock and sucked him in fervently.

“Oh hells!” Loki growled. He almost crushed your head in his hands, and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to pull you off, or push you down further.

Regardless, you pulled his cock in as deep as it could go. Your tongue wrapped around the shaft, sliding and slipping along his generous length. Somehow the taste of him made you hungrier for more.

You slowly released him and kissed all around his member. You gave particular attention to the head, running your tongue along its smooth, sensitive surface. His cock started to tremble, and you could tell Loki was almost at his limit.

“P-please my dear!” Loki’s voice broke out in a hoarse gasp. “P-please—I want to come inside you, for our first time.”

The god of mischief had resorted to begging. Another thrill of power licked through you.

A woman's lips on his cock — a noteworthy weak point that you will definitely use against him later.

“Alright, alright.” You acquiesced with another cheeky kiss to his cock. “Come inside me.”

With shaky hands, Loki guided you on top of his lap, his knees fallen to the wayside to make space for your curvaceous bottom. He firmly grasped his cock to let you slowly sink down.

Your core split and stretched for him once more, and you couldn’t help but cry out again. You knew you would never tire of the pleasure that was Loki’s cock fucking your pussy wide open.

“L-Loki!” You whined, nails digging into his shoulders, trying to control the descent and being pushed into so deeply.

“I know my love,” Loki comforted you, “you can do this. You can take me.”

With another moan, finally, you bottomed out and Loki kissed you soundly. You were so full, so utterly complete with him inside you.

“You did so good,” Loki breathed into your mouth. “So good for me.”

He continued to murmur sweet nothings as his lips pressed gentle kisses all over your face. You naturally began to roll your hips into his, and you could feel the press of his cock inside your core with every motion.

“You feel so—!”

“Incredible.” Loki finished for you in a low voice. “You’re incredible.”

Loki pressed his face into your bosom as you continued to undulate in his lap in a sensual slow dance chasing your pleasure. Each rock of your pelvis was enough to make Loki—and yourself—vocalize just how good you felt around his cock.

“Mmm!” Loki groaned into your chest for the umpteenth time. “Can you take more, my love?”

At this point, your own movements were not hitting how you wanted it to. You could feel the build up to your third orgasm was coming, but you couldn’t quite get the sweet spot you were itching for.

“Y-yes!” You mewled greedily. “More—I want more!”

With your consent, Loki grabbed his arm behind your back, locking you into himself. The air was squeezed out of your lungs from the strength of his grasp.

Then he slammed his hips up.

Fast.

Hard.

And without stopping.

“L-Loki! Oh my gods!” You screamed out. The pace was unlike anything Loki had done earlier in the night. This was what it was like to have sex with a god. And you knew Loki wouldn’t rest until he made you both cum.

He bounced you on his cock incessantly as if you were weightless. Your core, a flood of wetness you didn’t know your body was capable of. The smell of sweat, sex, and the intermingling of your scents filled the air.

Cries of lust, of pleasure, of unfettered desire echoed off the high-ceilings of his bedchamber.

“My love!” You gasped, your voice broken into pieces. “I can’t anymore!”

“Yes, you can!” Loki gritted out, “Take it! Take all of me!”

All at once, the world spun to a stop and you fixed your gaze on the emerald eyes of your lover, ablaze with arousal.

You loved him.

You wanted him.

So much that your body ached, trembled, practically vibrated for him.

At once, an electric current sparked through your every nerve and the orgasm hit you like lightening.

A pleasure so strong, it robbed your lungs of air, your eyes of sight, your ears of sound.

But you could feel.

You felt the hot, slickness of his cock eject into your core. The throb of his member as he thrust into you one more time.

You felt his body shaking from the power of his own orgasm, his arms rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

Eventually, you slumped down into him, and you registered his gentle encouragements in your ear.

“You did so good for me. You were amazing, my love.” Loki murmured into your hair, holding you with a softness you knew he only showed to you and no other.

The two of you fell into familiar stillness. You, soothed into slumber from the rise and fall of his breath and the relaxation that only comes from orgasmic bliss.

Loki, on the other hand, stared out into the stars outside his window, wondering if tonight was truly real, or just a dream.

Did you really profess your love to him? Did he really spend the night making love to you? And you not only let him, but you wanted it?

You wanted him?

He must have spoken that last bit aloud because he heard a sleepy whisper from you.

“I want you, my love.” You sighed into his chest as you fell asleep. “Always.”

“Always.” He echoed in awe.

As he closed his eyes to let sleep take over, Loki knew he would never tire of hearing you call him “my love” for the rest of his days.

[societyfolklore]

Sanctified in Seed

Title: Sanctified in Seed

Pairing: Jotun!Loki x Female Reader

Summary:  You were given to him, an offering laid bare to sate a side of him Asgard cant control only feed.

Word Count:  4.9k

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, Smut, Unprotected Sex, CreamPie, Size Kink (Kinda Monster Fucking) Overstimulation & Multiple Climaxes, Ritualistic Sex/Chosen Offering

  A/N:  Day 19 of Kinktober - CreamPie

BUT Also my entry for @cream-filled-delights  for their writing event- Cream Filled Delights – Prompt "Take it."   

The air bit as you breathed in. Thin and cold. Still. It scraped down your throat like a warning.

No guards had escorted you here, just a summoned wind that whispered through the marble halls of the palace, tugging your silks in the right direction, guiding your bare feet across freezing stone. You had followed it because that was the only path offered to you, step by silent step, until you reached the chamber.

The sanctuary was nothing like the halls of Asgard above. No gilded light, no polished gold, no ornamental fanfare. Here, the stone was veined with frost, and the torches burned cold blue. Shadows pooled in the corners like watchful things, and even the fire offered no warmth. It wasn’t meant for you. Not for anyone but him.

He waited

Loki.

Not the prince. Not the trickster god. Not the charming, sharp-tongued diplomat of court.

This was the monster they whispered about when they thought he couldn’t hear.

Jotun.

Blue-skinned. Bare-chested beneath a cloak that was already falling from one of his shoulders, the fur-lined fabric slipping like snow off stone. The firelight danced over his skin like it was afraid to touch him. His body was carved in lines of ice and runes; taller, broader than he ever appeared in court. Inhumanly elegant. Power pressed into shape, barely restrained.

He didn’t speak.

He only watched. Red eyes aglow, tracking every breath you took. The longer he looked at you, the more your courage frayed, like silk caught on a blade. Every second stretched thin, reverent, dreadful.

You hadn’t expected to be chosen. Not really. They had said it was a duty. An offering. Something sacred. Something necessary.

Something to soothe the old blood in him. Something to keep him tethered to the court. To reason. To restraint. To keep the monster sated before he could become dangerous. Before the frost could creep down from the peaks of Jotunheim and into the heart of Asgard's Son. Before the whispers in the dark hallways grew into rumours, and those rumours became truth in the mouths of the fearful.

They needed something that would distract him, something warm and willing. A sacrificial balm to pour into the cracks of his fury, to soften the jagged edge of his cold. Someone to remind him of the flesh and breath and hunger of the living. Not duty. Not diplomacy. Not blood—stained oaths sworn by trembling courtiers. But desire.

And you had agreed. Willingly.

Because you had wanted to be more than a court petal trampled under polished boots. You had wanted to be seen. Desired. Revered, even.

But now, lying bare on the black furs at the centre of the chamber, your skin prickling from the cold, your chest rising and falling too quickly, you wondered if you’d been seen too well. The dress they had put you in; pale, delicate, ceremonial, now left pooled beside the furs, abandoned like the last scrap of modesty. Your fingers had worked the ties slowly, one by one, just as you’d been instructed.

You had followed every rule. Walk the path. Do not scream when you see him. Take off the dress. Lie down.

Those had been Frigga’s words, her voice soft and even, as if she were reading a bedtime tale rather than preparing you for this. She had kissed your forehead with a mother’s gentleness and tucked a curl behind your ear before stepping back.

You had obeyed. Ready to offer yourself to something far more than a man.

The silence stretched, heavy and glacial, until-

"You came willingly?"

You nodded, though your voice had fled.

He smirked, the expression slow and sharp, like frost forming on glass. "They always say yes so easily... so sure they can take it. So eager to be offered up like good little sacrifices," he added, the last part mumbled more to himself as he tapped two fingers against his temple, his face looking pained for a moment.

He didn’t move right away. Just stared again. Let you feel the weight of him. The way his presence swallowed the room, how the air seemed to freeze around him, heavy with intent.

A cold flicker of doubt slid beneath your skin. He hadn’t sent you away, but he hadn’t spoken either. For one long, agonising moment, you wondered if you weren’t wanted. If perhaps this offering,…you..wasn’t enough. If you had misunderstood everything, and he would rise and turn from you, leave you bare and dismissed.

But he didn’t. Content, at least for now, to devour you with his eyes first.

The shift was subtle. A stretch of his shoulders. A breath drawn deeper than the last. Then he rose from the low—backed chair he’d been sprawled in, the fur-lined cloak sliding from his remaining shoulder to gather at the crook of his elbow before sliding off complete.

All he wore now were dark leather pants that clung to the muscle of his thighs, low enough to reveal the ridged plane of his abdomen, the blue of his skin shifting as he moved, patterns like frost blooming beneath the surface. You could hear the quiet creak of his boots across the stone as he stepped forward, each stride deliberate, unhurried.

The fire behind him did not warm the room, only cast jagged shadows that moved across his body in flickers of ice-blue and black. It gave him the shape of something elemental.

He stopped just at the edge of the furs, gaze pinned to your body. You could feel the heat of your skin in contrast to the cold of the air. You’d laid yourself bare, and now you could only endure his gaze.

He knelt. Sinking down closer to your level.

Large, precise hands settled on your knees first. His touch was cold enough to draw a gasp from you, a sound you didn’t mean to make, but it slipped free anyway. The sharp chill of his skin contrasted so completely with the heat blooming beneath your own that it felt electric.

You flinched at the contact, your body tensing beneath his grip, but he only hummed, dragging those hands slowly up the length of your thighs. That reaction made him smile, slow, pleased, knowing crack that spread across his face.

 The pressure was firm, possessive, and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to explore you. His fingers spread wide, thumbs brushing the tender insides of your legs before his palms eased your knees further apart.

The movement left you open, vulnerable, and achingly aware of just how exposed you were beneath him. The cool air licked at your slick heat as he shifted closer, his hands sliding upward again in slow, reverent passes as if he was memorizing the shape of you. There was hunger in the way he touched. He wasn’t rushing. He didn’t need to. You were his for as long as he decided to keep you.

As he moved forward on his knees, the furs beneath you shifted under his weight, and the scent of him; snow, spice, and something wild. It wrapped around you as intimately as his hands.

His eyes didn’t lift from where your thighs parted. Not until his mouth was level with your chest. Then, finally, Loki looked at your face. Not with affection or restraint, but with the heavy, assessing interest of a predator sizing up something offered rather than taken. His gaze swept up your body again, slow and possessive, before locking onto your eyes proper, holding there.

You saw hunger burning in those red rubied eye.

He lent forward to run the edge of his nose along your cheek, then across your jaw. The cool drag of it raised goosebumps in its wake, making you shiver. He didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His breath was cold as it ghosted over your mouth, lingering for a moment like he was considering it, like he wanted to taste your hesitation first.

You could feel your own breath hitch, heat rising up your throat. Your lips parted, expecting the kiss that didn’t come. He only watched your reaction, letting the tension spool tighter between you.

Hi trailed lower. His mouth dipped to your throat, placing a single kiss right over your pulse. It was soft at first, but then his tongue pressed there, lapping against your skin until he found the rhythm of your heartbeat.

He opened his mouth fully, sucking at the spot with enough pressure to make your breath stutter, enough to leave a mark. His teeth grazed lightly, a scrape of danger beneath the devotion.

“Make it beat harder for me,” he murmured, his voice a low command cloaked in silk.

His fingers teased between your legs as he spoke. Gentle at first. Circling. Testing. He found your clit and dragged two knuckles down either side of it, then rubbed it slowly with the pad of his thumb. The motion wasn’t hurried, but it made your hips buck, your thighs jump in response to the touch.

A soft gasp escaped your lips followed by a stifled whimper when he didn’t stop. “P-Prince-” you breathed, voice catching on the title.

He chuckled, a sound that rumbled in his chest and vibrated through yours as he leaned in closer.

“Not a Prince here,” he murmured, voice rough at the edges, his breath cool against your chest. “Don’t pretend I’m some courtly thing while you lay yourself open like this.”

He drew his mouth across your chest slowly, deliberately, before his tongue flicked over a nipple and sucked it in deep, pulling a breathy moan from your throat. His teeth catching enough to make you twitch before he released you with a wet pop.

You moaned again, higher, more desperate. Your back arched, searching for his mouth, for friction, for something.

“You tremble for me already,” he said, pleased. “Good. Let your body speak honestly.”

Loki dragged a single finger down your slit. It was chilled, thick, and unrelenting, sending a jolt through your oversensitized skin. He paused for a moment, pressing it firmly against your entrance like he was testing your readiness, gauging just how much you could take. Then he pushed inside, slowly, deliberately so you’d gasp, the air catching in your throat. The stretch was unfamiliar, the sheer contrast of his icy skin against your molten heat making you twitch, your walls fluttering around him in confused, needy response.

He curled his finger inside you as he withdrew just slightly, then pushed back in, twisting gently to feel every ridge of your softness. You clenched around him with no conscious thought, your body pulsing around the intrusion, responding as if it knew something your mind was still struggling to grasp.

He exhaled hard through his nose, nostrils flaring as his jaw tensed.

"So hot," he growled, voice thick and reverent. "You burn around me."

His words sank into your skin as he began to move again, slow and unrelenting, coaxing you open with each stroke. The friction built into a rhythm that sent soft wet sounds echoing through the chamber. You whimpered as your thighs fell wider, helpless to the way your body welcomed him in.

He leaned closer, his breath brushing your chest as he added a second finger. The stretch widened, searing pleasure crackling through your core. He didn’t slow down, just adjusted the angle, his palm pressing down to grind against your clit while both fingers curled and dragged inside you with sinful precision.

You keened softly, the pressure, the fullness, the cool heat of him overwhelming everything else. His fingers didn’t stop, didn’t rush, not even when you bucked over the third that joined the others.

He kept going watching your face while his finger worked you open slowly, methodically. You felt the drag of them as he eased them apart, stretching you, testing the give of your body around as he pushed in all the way to his knuckles. The sensation was sharp, aching, filthy and it only deepened as those long digits reached higher up into you than you’d ever managed to reach on your own. Coaxing a strangled moan from your throat.

Loki dipped his head, his lips grazed the underside of your breast, then bit down just enough to make you jolt, the twin sensations leaving you suspended between pain and pleasure.

"So wet, so warm." he murmured, breath ragged. "All this for me?"

You nodded, swallowing the whimper that bubbled up, your own hands digging into the plush fur around you. Your breath caught again as he pulled his fingers slightly apart, easing the stretch wider, working you open bit by bit. The cool, slick pressure sent sparks dancing up your spine, the edges of his fingers reaching deeper.

The sensation made your hips jerked, your body caught between instinctive resistance and overwhelming need. You could feel it building, that tightening heat, the edge looming closer with every careful, purposeful drag of his fingers.

He growled again, a sound low in his throat, and pulled his fingers free with a slick, wet sound that made your walls clench in protest. You whimpered, a desperate sound of loss.

"Not yet," he said, as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. "Just need you soft enough to take everything I intend to give."

You barely had time to brace yourself.

He sank back on his haunches, and the room shimmered with green light. Seidr curled over his hips, dissolving the last of his leathers in a quiet flicker of magic. He knelt above you now in full glory, entirely bare, his chest rising and falling with deliberate control, the muscles of his abdomen taut with restrained power.

Between his thighs, his cock stood thick and flushed a deeper, bruised blue, already leaking at the tip. The sight of him like this, unhidden, unrestrained, made your breath catch and your core clench in anticipation. He was beautiful and terrifying all at once, and the way his eyes drank you in from above only made your skin burn hotter against the furs beneath you.

You tried not to flinch as he knelt between your thighs, sucking air sharp into your lungs as he wrapped one large hand around himself and stroked once, twice, spreading the glistening slick of precum over the blunt tip of his cock. It was a threatening thing, thick, flushed dark, slightly curved, and long enough to make your thighs twitch.

He watched you watch him. Smirking.

"So sure of yourselves," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "Pretty little maidens to be fed to the beats hunger."

His fingers tapped once, twice against his own temple again, like he was chiding ghosts only he could hear.

You swallowed hard and nodded. You were here. This was what you were meant for.

“Fool.”

His hands came to your thighs again, colder now, rougher in their grip as he pushed your legs up and apart. You whimpered, the sound barely a breath, and dug your hands into the furs. He nudged closer, his cock dragging through the mess he’d already coaxed from you, wet and sticky as he slicked himself with your arousal.

When he pressed against your entrance, you gasped. His breath hitched too, sharp and sudden.

The pressure built slowly. Agonisingly.

Your body tensed, but he didn't stop. Didn't offer comfort or pause. He simply pushed, a slow, relentless glide that stretched you inch by inch. The thick crown breached you first, making you cry out, the burn of it forcing your hips up. He caught them with a growl, strong hands holding you steady.

"Shhh," he hissed behind clenched teeth, "You’re mine to shape. My offering."

The stretch was unbearable and exquisite. Every inch he gave you made you feel fuller than you'd ever known, like your body was being rebuilt from the inside out just to fit him. He growled something in Jotun under his breath, something guttural and low, as he bottomed out.

He groaned, transfixed by the way your body tried to take him. One of his large hands pressed down over your womb, feeling the fullness, the bulge of him deep inside. His hips ground forward, just enough to make you gasp and then whine, your fingers scrabbling at the furs. He stilled again, rejoicing the way your walls fluttered helplessly around him, stretched to your absolute limit.

You sobbed, a choked little sound, as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, hot and unbidden. The fullness, the stretch, the overwhelming pressure.

It was too much, your body quivering with sensation.

Your vision blurred for a moment, breath catching in your throat as the tear rolled down to your temple.

"Take it, you must take it Little Flame." He shifted slightly, sitting tall above you in that L-shaped posture, his cock still buried to the hilt inside you. His hand, still resting on your lower abdomen, slowly dragged upward, fingers splayed, possessive, as if marking a path across your trembling skin, claiming every inch of you.

 He cupped your breast again, massaging with a slow, deliberate pressure, groaning as you clenched and writhed beneath him. The heat of your body welcomed him with every grind of his hips, slick and warm and yielding. It was like he wanted to carve a space for himself inside you, to etch himself into your being.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice deep, raw with veneration and greed, almost drunk on the feel of you.

You gasped as he rocked into you again, the movement slow and consuming. Each stroke dragged along nerves frayed raw, sparking pleasure that curled up your spine and spread fire through your limbs.

You cried out, eyes squeezing shut.

Loki shuddered, mouth parting in a breathless groan.

"That sound-yes, that sound-make it again."

When he moved, it was slow at first long, deep thrusts that stole the air from you each time his hips met yours. He shifted only slightly, adjusting the angle with a warriors precision until he found the one that made you cry out, back arching. The sound pulled a groan from his throat, low and rough, as though the noise of your pleasure spurred something darker in him.

Loki never looked away from you. Not once.

Your thighs trembled. Your fingers clawed at the furs beneath you. Each slow, deliberate stroke filled you past the point of reason, the stretch never easing, only evolving into something more intense. The dull ache became friction, became fullness, became a kind of overwhelming reverence. He was worshiping you with every snap of his hips, and still, it wasn’t gentle.

He was a creature of need and seidr, and now, unmasked in his hunger, the illusion of princely restraint had vanished. His long black hair had fallen loose, cascading around his shoulders in wild waves. Strands clung to his face, framing the sharp lines of his jaw, his cheekbones, the fierce heat burning in his eyes. The wildness in him showed now, unmistakable, written in every flex of his body, every ripple of muscle as he loomed over you.

His hand dragged down your side, large and cool against your overheated skin, until it gripped your hip with unyielding force. The next thrust rocked through you. You keened, eyes going wide, the pressure of it making your stomach rise.

"Meant for this," he growled. "Made to be filled."

Your cries were rhythmic now, rising with every thrust, every grinding roll of his hips. He adjusted again, dragging one of your legs high against his shoulder, the back of your leg pressed into his chest, the new angle devastating. You choked on stolen breath as he fucked deeper, harder and gods, you felt every inch of him. The stretch was obscene, the sheer size of him forcing you open, your body pulled tight around his cock as he pushed in and you. You could feel the ridge of his head drag along places inside you that had never known such reach. Your skin sang with sensation, every nerve lit, your core clenching desperately around his impossible girth.

“Nngh-guh..” a helpless noise coming from you. 

You felt it building. The burn at the base of your spine. The fluttering tension in your core. The way his cock dragged perfectly across the spot that made you unravel. You could tilt your head to see, to watch him take you back, you could do it. The idea of witnessing what you could feel made you dizzy, made your mind spin, before you felt heat sizzle in your blood despite the cool chill from his cock inside you. Yet your body had no choice but to accommodate him, to stretch and strain and swallow him whole. You were pulled open around him, every stroke pushing the limits of your flesh, every slide making your insides feel claimed. He'd make you come. You'd come for him. You'd sate his hunger.

"Aauh - Ah" 

Loki felt it, too. The way your body surrendered just that little bit more, opening wider, pliant and pliable, a trembling gift beneath him.

“Take it, feel it!” 

He pressed his palm against your belly again, groaning at the swell, the bulge he could feel under his touch, the exquisite pressure of his cock driving into you. The sight of your abdomen lifting with each deep stroke made his pupils dilate. His thumb traced slow circles around your navel before drifting higher, grazing the underside of your breast, then cupping it with a needy hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, coaxing another breathy pants from your lips.

"So greedy," he purred. "Chosen for this. Crafted for me. A perfect fit for my hunger, my claim."

Your moan cracked, your throat tight with sensation, drawn taut with the staggering fullness, the weight of being taken.

His pace shifted, quicker now, yet never rushed. It wasn’t frantic. Intentional. Like the fulfillment of something sacred. Every thrust carried purpose, a deeper assertion of ownership, of destiny. Designed to push you past the edge and make sure you never came back the same.

Your orgasm tore through you like a riptide, electric and blinding. Your body clamped down around him, fluttering, squeezing, your breath stolen, your mouth parting in a shattered, sobbing cry. You keened for him, the sound breaking into the air between you, sharp and wanting. Your limbs trembled, your hands grappling at the furs for purchase as the waves rolled through you, your walls milking him with desperate hunger, with need that felt etched into your bones.

Loki didn’t pull back. Didn’t let you catch your breath.

He snarled, the sound animal and ancient, and slammed home- hard.

You screamed.

The stretch was too much, your body trembling in the aftermath, but the heat of him, the twitch of his cock inside you, the raw presence of him, it was devastation.

Then you felt it.

The rush. The flood. The thick spill of him flooding your core in molten pulses, like you were being sealed, marked. Your cunt tried to flutter him out, to push him away, but Loki held fast. Stayed buried deep.

A long, broken groan tore from his throat as he ground his hips to the base, holding you open, driving his spend deeper inside until you felt him in every part of you.

You whimpered, body twitching in overstimulation, your nerves frayed, your walls still fluttering around the impossible fullness.

Loki kept going. Kept pressing you into that surrender, the kind that rewrote your body from the inside out.

Your body quaked, twitching with overstimulation. Your eyes glazed, not able to focus, mouth slack with the weight of everything he had wrung from you. Your limbs felt boneless, bonedust scattered in the aftershock of pleasure and ruin.

Slowly, Loki moved, the aching slide of him pulling out left your body shuddering. The emptiness bloomed inside you, your walls fluttering in protest, stretched and ruined, still clinging to the ghost of his shape. You could still feel the heft of him in your deepest places, the imprint of him left like scorched velvet.

It poured from you in thick, hot waves, so much that it ran down your thighs, soaking the furs beneath you. It clung to your folds, to the curve of your ass, your skin wet and sticky with it.

 He watched with pride, the sight of a prize he found worthy. His chest rose with each breath, the flicker of magic still crawling across his skin like the afterglow of lightning.

Loki sat back on his heels; eyes fixed between your thighs. Hunger warred on his face as he reached forward, spreading you wider. Two long fingers dipped into the mess, dragging through your folds, like he was worshipping at the altar he'd just desecrated.

"Look at that," he murmured, voice wrecked, darker. "So full you can't even hold it.."

You tilted your head down this time, eyes blurry but still managing to focus as he dipped his fingers into opaque cream dripping from your cunt. With curious car he brought it up to your abdomen and began to write. You watched, mesmerised, as he spelled out his name, each letter painted with his spend, glistening on your skin.

"Mine. Branded in seed," he whispered, voice thick with satisfaction, as though your trembling acceptance had awakened something even darker in him. 

He caught your gaze, saw the way your breath caught, your lips parting as you felt it settle, his claim, marked in your own submission. His cock twitched, swelling again.

"Again," he whispered. "You'll take it again. Until you wear me like war paint. Until you forget any life before me."

He kept your gaze as pushed back into you.

Your breath hitched, a mewl catching in your throat as the swollen head of his cock breached your entrance once more. Slick from the mess he’d already made of you, he slid in easier this time, so much easier. Your body welcomed him now, fucked open and trembling, stretched to its limits and aching to be filled again.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through his chest and into you, echoing in your bones. The ease of his re-entry, just that perfect hint of friction that made him groan.

Your broken keen, high and wrecked, your legs twitching around him. There was no resistance now, just the obscene slide of his cock as he sank into the hilt, claimed you anew. You could feel how big he still was, how you were split around him, the fullness turning to a pulsing ache that made your toes curl. And gods, he was already moving again.

This time, he didn’t hold back the mess. He wanted it. With every steady thrust, more of his spend from before spilled out around him, slicking your thighs, matting the fur beneath you in thick, glistening trails. The scent was overwhelming. Raw. Carnal. The wet, filthy sound of it echoed through the chamber, each movement lewd and deliberate, as if he were savouring the music of your ruin.

It let him move easier. Deeper.

His body curved over yours now, bending low until he caged you entirely beneath him. The chill of his skin contrasted with the heat of your own, steam rising where you touched. His breath was at your neck, sharp and cool between heated groans, while one arm braced just above your head, palm planted firm in the fur, pinning you beneath the full weight of him.

You whimpered, and he growled, a sound of dark satisfaction. “Good,” he rasped against your ear. “Give me those sounds. Let me hear how full you are.”

The sound was torn from your throat as your hands flew to his arms, anchoring yourself to the thick muscle of his biceps. He was relentless now. Slow, deep, each stroke angled to hit where you were weakest. He shifted slightly, one hand curling under your thigh again, folding you tighter beneath him, pressing you open like a bloom under frost.

Your body trembled. Your nerves were frayed to the edge. You were undone.

His voice came low and possessive against your ear.

“So wet. So full. And you keep taking it.”

You gasped, your voice thin and breaking: “Loki-”

He groaned, hips stuttering as your body clenched again, tight and fluttering around him. The sound of your voice, raw and breathless and his, sent him reeling.

Your climax hit you again, drowning you, tearing through your limbs. Slick and seed gushed around him, your back arching with a silent scream as you came undone again.

But still he didn’t stop.

Your body twitched with aftershocks, your limbs limp. He held you there, claimed you again and again, slow and unrelenting. The mess only worsened, his seed, your slick, all of it mixing and soaking anything it touched. It dripped from you in wet strings, his devastating cock pushing it back inside with each thrust. Your body singing for him, hot and heavy as everything else melted away.

You moaned wanton, your mind blurring under the pleasure of it all.

“You're mine now,” he growled into your throat. “Sacred and ruined.”

You were an offering.

Now, you were his.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “Yours.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, slow and reverent, but his hips never stopped moving.

“So good for me,” he murmured. “Sent to be filled. Made for this.”

he only thing left now, was for him to use you. That was why you were chosen. That was what your body was meant for.

[lilacst4rs]

Bound

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

Notes: requested! this is my longest fic yet - i passed 1k words! i had so much fun with this ask <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, PinV, bondage, magic restraints?, overstimulation, reader cant stay still, praise, orgasm, reader with female anatomy, aftercare

‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿

It wasn't truly something you could control.

You adored intimacy with Loki; sex with him was euphoric, the way he touched you was devoting beyond belief, he pleasured you in ways that left you starry eyed and boneless. You, though, could not seem to stay still. At all. It wasn't as if you wanted to escape, no, Loki provided you with outstandingly pleasurable endeavors. You simply became overwhelmed, and out of this factor, you squirmed. You tried to stay still, truly, but under the sensation of Loki's touch, your back would arch, your hips would jolt, your body would curl away as if it only took one touch from the god to provide overstimulation.

"Honestly, dove, is this so overwhelming for you?"

Loki gazed down at you, brow raised in mild amusement. You were laid beneath him on cotton sheets, one of his hands braced by your head, the other lying flat along your ribcage. The latter had previously been cupping your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple, circling the peak. Your torso had lifted then, twisting away as a whimper caught in your throat, prompting a soft huff from your lover, and his gentle comment of your intolerance.

"...Kind of," you admitted, heat rising to your cheeks at the murmured truth, even as it was one he was well aware of already. "I'm sorry, I want this, really, it's just...a lot."

"You needn't apologize, I know," he murmured back, voice softening slightly in understanding. His head tilted in contemplation then, eyes meeting yours again, this time with the familiar hint of mischief. "Though I do believe we've discussed a solution to this little trait of yours, yes?"

You swallowed at the suggestion, heart stuttering at the implication of his words. You had discussed bondage before; Loki had introduced it teasingly one night as you were wrapped in his arms after a particularly intense bout of coitus, only to find that you were genuinely unopposed, which in turn led to further discussion. Still, it was only that. Discussion. The conversation had never made it past words, and the thought of it brought out your bashfulness tenfold.

"Yeah...we have."

"And has your consent on the matter changed?" he questioned, you could see the care written in his features, despite the inclination in his gaze. You shook your head embarrassingly quickly, pulse jumping at the smirk that graced his lips, dangerous and unfairly gorgeous.

"Then let us put this idea into practice, little vixen." His hands trailed upward once more, and you tried your hardest to remain still despite the way your body naturally trembled. His hands found your wrists, slowly raising them above your head, letting your heart race at the anticipation. Your hands in his reached the headboard, followed by a cool, tingly sensation accompanied by a faint green glow, the same that shone in Loki's eyes.

When he lifted his hands, you found your wrists bound by silk scarves, emerald colored, of course, tight, but not uncomfortably so. While you were fixated on your restraints, Loki's hands traveled down your sides, settling at your hips where the same glow illuminated once more, this time, prompting some invisible force to keep your hips still, forbidding any further squirming.

"This stops the moment you wish it to," Loki reminded, voice low, completely sincere.

"I don't want it to," you murmured breathlessly, a thrilled flutter in your stomach as he loomed over you, unable to squirm as you usually would. A low laugh from the god followed your words, their effect on him evident as his cock stiffened against your thigh.

"You precious thing," he murmured, cool fingers trailing down your sternum, then stomach, then thigh, uninterrupted this time. "Let me ravish you like I've intended all this time, uninterrupted"

Loki's hands slid under your thighs, gently hiking your knees up over his shoulders, their slight trembling prompting his breath to hitch. One hand dipped lower, middle and ring finger gliding just barely through your folds. Your hips twitched instinctively with the desire to buck away, a whimper sounding from your throat at the inability to do so.

"You are exquisite when you are not running from me," he mused lowly, thumb angling to rub your clit, achingly slow, torturous in your forced stillness. He slid one finger into you then, crooking easily with the lubrication of your arousal, evidence of your pleasure in this position. "By the norns you are drenched, beloved. I should have suggested this far sooner."

"Loki!" you cried out as he inserted a second finger, scissoring slowly in preparation, thumb on your clit circling as a means to sooth.

"Hush, my love, I shall take care of you," he murmured, pupils blown at the obscene squelch that sounded from your wetness; the sight of your expression - brows drawn in pleasure, jaw slightly slack, head tipped back - causing his cock to ache in its lack of stimulation, tip twitching eagerly.

Loki pulled out of you then, your juices stringing from his fingers, a soft noise of disappointment escaping you at the sudden emptiness. One hand caressed your hip soothingly, the other spreading your slick over his length, allowing himself a few independent preliminary strokes, lips parted with a soft groan.

"Loki, please," you drawled out, clit throbbing at the lack of attention, body tellingly rigid, patience far too thin already.

"Such impatience," he mused, lips twitching as he shifted your knees higher, aligning his cock with your entrance, much to your eagerness. He circled his tip around your slit, taking pleasure in your clear desire to squirm and declination of being able to do so. "I must say, I rather enjoy you like this," a pause, "though I suppose you've done wonderfully thus far, and I am a benevolent god to grant you the pleasure you seek..."

He trailed off, and any words of agreement or gratitude you had been forming were abruptly cut off by a guttural moan from your lips. Loki had plunged his cock into you with no warning, his girth stretching your walls and crooking exquisitely into that spongy spot that made your senses blur.

"Loki!" You cried, back arched upward as much as it could within your restraints, hips glued as you were compelled to take every overwhelming thrust, every movement on your end limited to a tea. "Fuck, it's so much!"

"You can take it, you will," he grunted, a low moan strung from his lips as your walls clenched around him, his fingers finding your clit once more to work you to that blissful state that he insisted you glowed in. "You," he huffed, "are doing extraordinarily."

You whined, head thrashing side to side as he focused your clit, overstimulated tears filling your eyes as he bottomed out, only to thrust deeper, harder, keeping a maddening, inescapable pace. Heat was pooling low in your belly, quicker than you could catch your breath, tension raveling tighter as Loki continued drawing you to the edge.

"I can't, I can't, Loki, I'm gonna- ah!" you stammered through sobs, thighs trembling against his shoulders. Loki's head dipped down, littering soft kisses along your collarbones, the gentleness a calmer contrast in an attempt to lull your overwhelmed state.

"I know, darling, I know," he whispered against your skin, angling his hips to hit your g-spot perfectly, drawing the knot in your belly taught, on the precipice of snapping. "You're nearly there, come for me, beloved."

Your orgasm hit you hard, crashing over you in waves that tore wrecked moans from your throat, your muscles spasming from the sheer intensity. Loki worked you through it, fingers steady on your swollen clit as he drove into you, milking every ounce of ecstasy he could from you. Your cunt squeezed his cock with every wave of pleasure, Loki's own orgasm soon chasing your own. With a few final thrusts, he pulled out, cock sprung up, thick ropes of his release spurting out onto your stomach, his head thrown back rapturously.

The two of you came down from your highs, the room sounding with your concomitant pants. Coming to, Loki gazed down at you, curls hanging around his face in a halo that made him look angelic. You met his gaze with a watery one of your own, offering a weak smile in your worn out state, your own hair mussed and sprawled out against the pillows.

"Oh my love..." he murmured softly, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb swiping away a stray tear that had rolled down your temple. "look at you, absolutely ravishing. You did beautifully."

As he praised you, the same soft glow from earlier returned, encapsulating your wrists and hips once more, removing the restraints. You flexed and stretched slightly, arms dropping to lazily grasp at whatever parts of Loki you could reach, anchoring yourself in your dazed state.

"Thank you," you managed to mumble, humming quietly as the god leaned down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

"Do not thank me for giving you the pleasure you more than deserve," he murmured against your lips, fingers tracing your jaw delicately. "My adoration for you exceeds the words that this realm has to offer, I am grateful you trust me enough for me to attempt to fulfill it through such actions."

You weren't sure quite what to respond to such kind words; your heart felt as if it could melt, a similar feeling that encapsulated the rest of your body. As if he could sense this, and as if you didn't need to, Loki simply pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, fingers tracing the path of your spine tranquilly.

You didn't need words for Loki to know you loved him endlessly, nor did you need to remain still on your own accord, your lover knew, and in knowing he fulfilled your every need completely, all in the sake of loving you.

‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿‿‿ᖭི༏ᖫྀ‿‿

Loki tag list: @soulpiercing

^comment if you wanna be added <3

[legspreadforloki]

18+ content- minors DNI

Loki would definitely get off watching you cry as he pounded harder and harder into your sopping pussy; watching your cheap mascara run down your reddening cheeks- only serving to increase his already limitless sex drive. He forces your legs up, contorting your wrecked body to his selfish desires, ignoring your frail whimpers…because he knows you love it.

Bruh yall don’t understand how much I NEED this man.

Ummm also this is my first time posting here, pls give me some ideas of what to write about!!!