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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 24

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: friday! coworkers last day!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You pass through the gate, cautious to close it without a noise. You trail past the hedges and around the side of the house. You enter through the back, as you did in those early days, only weeks ago, though it seems years.

You move slowly, leaving your shoes out of the way, disregarding the closet as you cling to the strap of your bag and venture warily onward. You pause before the kitchen door and peek around, finding it empty. You tiptoe on and climb the stairs one at a time, flinching at ever creak.

You reach the top and keep your eyes down. You go to the library and slip inside, like a ghost floating through your own existence. You set the bag by your feet and pull out the laptop to begin your day.

You don't think, not past the list of tasks. You boot the computer and wait for the screen to light up. You type in the pass code and open Excel. You lean your head in your hand, eyes glazing over as the glare sears your vision, stamping with endless columns and tiny numbers.

You feel yourself slumping, the strength whittling away by the second. Your eyes droop even as your ears prick at each noise. You shake your head, trying to ward off the needling fatigue. You yawn and sit up, rubbing your eyelids as you square your shoulders.

You let your head hang back and drop your arms into your lap. Your stomach wriggles as Mr. Laufeyson's looming presence creeps into your mind. He's here somewhere and surely, he already knows you are too. He's just waiting to pounce.

Your fears furl into faded dreams. A fractured series of scenes, twisted reflections of reality rippling into each other until you dizzy. You can hear your own snores yet don't quite realise you're asleep.

You wake with a start as you feel yourself slipping. You barely catch yourself before you flop off the chair. You spasm and grip the arm rest as a shadow lurks behind your laptop screen. You gape up at Mr. Laufeyson as he watches you with arms folded.

"Hm," he tilts his head, "that shirt is... not very professional."

"Sir," you keep your face down as your cheek thrums, swollen and bruised, "I'm sorry, I... I didn't sleep very well."

"Oh yes, of course, I hadn't even mentioned you sleeping on the job," he growls and uncrosses his arms, bringing his hands down to the desk. He leans in so his head is just above the laptop. "Look at me."

"Mr. Laufeyson, I'm just sorting out the expenses--"

"Look at me," he commands more firmly.

You wince and rub your neck. An ache radiates in your shoulder, another remnant of your father's wrath. You slowly raise your chin as your lip twitches just slightly. His eyes narrow and his jaw ticks.

He's silent as he stares at you. Angry, you can tell. You pull your hands back and fold them against your chest.

"Please, Mr. Laufeyson, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. It won't happen again--"

"What happened to your clothes?" He slithers darkly.

"Nothing, I... I wasn't paying attention this morning--"

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not," you squeak unconvincingly.

His nostrils flare and he slaps his palm on the desk. You sit back, pressing yourself to the chair as you whimper.

"I underestimated that... scum," he spits out.

"I don't know--"

"Go on and lie again. What is it this time? You took a tumble?" He reaches out and you shy away, expecting him to put another swell in your cheek. Instead, he touches the thrumming skin, stroking it, "I didn't think..." he takes a breath and withdraws his hand, standing stiffly, "I believed him a coward, but not that sort."

"It's not--"

"Hush. You make your excuse for him, I will not swallow them," he flicks his fingers at you dismissively.

He rolls his shoulders and pivots on his heel. He paces across the patterned rug and stops, just before the sofa. He turns back, making another line across the space. He brings his finger up to tap his chin.

"Yes, very well, I see I do have somewhere to be," he states as he drops his hand, his lips curving at the corners.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you stand.

"Never you mind," he tuts, "you have your work, I have mine." He cracks his knuckles.

"Are you--"

"Ah ah," he points at you tersely, "since when is my itinerary your concern? Mind the house, that is your job." He huffs and checks his watch as a pinch lines his forehead, "you may receive the expected parcel and leave it on my desk for now..." he lowers his hand and grumbles, "and you will stay here."

"Mr. Laufeyson," you murmur.

Before you can protest further, he's at the door. You're frozen in disbelief. Surely he can't mean what you think.

It doesn't matter to him, does it? You are his house manager, just another below him he can torment, he wouldn't do anything like that. Certainly, he won't harm your father, right?

You rush after him as your doubts bubble over. As he enters the hallway, you grab his elbow, not thinking, not hesitating for once in your life. "Please, Mr. Laufeyson, whatever you're thinking of--"

He faces you and rips his arm free, "don't."

"Please, it's-- I--" you sputter helplessly and wring your hands, "I deserved it."

He squares his chin and blinks. "Deserve... so it was him?"

"Mr. Laufeyson, it isn't... isn't your problem. He's my dad, I'll deal with him."

"As you have so far?" He scoffs, "pet, I mean to defend you. To do you a favour. Another. And now you overstep and try to command me?"

"No, no, I'm not... not commanding. I'm begging," you clutch your hands tighter, putting them up to plead, "don't make it worse."

He dips his head and closes his eyes. He pinches his nose and gives a nod, rubbing his lips together. He raises his head and opens his eyes again. He shrugs and lets a grin break through.

"It isn't your choice," he grabs your wrists, locking them together in his grasp as he drags you forward.

Your socks slip on the floorboards as he tugs you down the hallway. You struggle, writhing and sliding against his force. The same panic that struck you last night swirls again, thumping in your chest. He turns and swings you through the door of his bedroom. You stagger as he lets you go and the door swiftly snaps shut behind you.

You turn to face it and throw yourself against it, twisting the handle as you try to pull it open. He holds it shut from the other side and you hear the lock grind into place. You hit the door with your fists and cry out.

"Mr. Laufeyson!"

"I will return shortly, pet, never you worry," he assures, "don't miss me too much."

You slap the wood again and press your ear to it. You listen as he struts away, whistling until it fades to silence. You hear the front door below, shortly followed by the car engine rolling to life. You rush over to the window and look at as he steers up to the gate.

You can hear his knuckles cracking and see that sinister smirk. His intentions cannot be good.

✨

Your exhaustion slakes away to panic. You pace the room, bounce up and down on your feet, fidget incessantly, murmuring senselessly. You just can't be still. What is Mr. Laufeyson doing?

Your fears twist your imagination to terror. Is he going to hurt your father? He should just leave him alone. He's the one who got him so worked up. That last thought makes you stop short.

It's his fault. It's all his fault. He heard everything on the phone, he knew your dad has anger issues, he walked into your home and he ruined it all.

Your lashes flutter as you sway. You feel like you've been struck all over again. Mr. Laufeyson has done this all to you! He gave you this job, he took you away from your dad, he invaded your home, he made you wear those clothes.

And now, you're mad. You feel that hot streak inside of you unlike anything before. Vivid and venomous. You run to the door, throwing yourself against it as you beat with your fists.

He's locked you up here so you can't stop him from doing anymore. You're sleeping in a hotel because of him. You're not eating or sleeping, you can feel yourself going insane. Because of him.

You're dizzy and breathless. You lean on the door and try to calm yourself. Your head hurts.

You slide down and turn to put your back against the door. You hang your head, bending your legs to rest your arms over them. You heave and close your eyes.

You're just as helpless as you've ever been.

✨

The footsteps bring you out of your daze. You raise your head, wobbly on your neck, and blink several times before you get your bearings. You listen to Mr. Laufeyson's entry, his slow advance below, and his steady ascension up the staircase.

Your heart hitches but you don't move. Even if you had the strength, you refuse. You will not budge.

He comes down the staircase, a hum in the air. You tense and grit your teeth, eyes hot again with tears. Not sad but angry.

"Ah, pet, you will be happy to hear that I don't believe your father will have another cruel world reserved for you," he sings the handle shifts slightly above your head and the lock clicks. "How shall we celebrate your emancipati--"

The door jolts and you push back against it. You plant your feet and grunt as you force it shut. He lets out a noise and shoves back. You do it again.

"Pet," he evens his tone, "what are you up to?"

"Leave me alone!" You snarl, surprised by your own venom.

"Pet, now, let me in--"

"I said go away!"

He scoffs and stops pushing. He lets out his breath loudly.

"This isn't mature behaviour."

"I don't care, I don't want to see you."

He's quiet again. You hear his soles scuff and he gently taps on the door.

"Pet, please, we should talk. I think it's imperative that we do--"

"No, I don't want to talk. I don't want to see you. I want you to leave me alone!"

"You are being a child--"

"You ruined everything," you bark, "you ruined my life! You're a bad man and I hate you!"

You go weak as the last words escape you without a thought. You collapse onto your bottom and catch your head in your hands. You devolve into thick, choking sobs. Here you are, bawling like the child he calls you. He must be amused.

"Are you tendering your resignation?" He asks crisply, "because I believe you haven't anywhere else to go, my dear."

"I know! Because of you. I have nowhere, because you!" You shoot back through heaving breaths.

"Or... you could have somewhere, because of me," he says measuredly. "Pet, all you have to do is open the door and talk to me."

You fall onto your side and curl up. You cover your head, whimpering as tears trickle down. You sniffle and hide under your arm. Just like you did when dad wouldn't stop yelling.

The floorboards shift and he sighs again, "I can wait." He taps the door lightly once more and his footfalls retreat.

You tremble in a heap, nearly delirious with emotion. Through the chaos, you can see the truth. You don't have anywhere or anything without him.

✨

The world shifts under you, your body chafing across the floor as the door moves you. Not harshly but inch by inch. Mr. Laufeyson bends over you as you open your eyes, groggy and glazed over. His silhouette is fuzzy and distant as he slides his arms under you.

He lifts you and carries you to the bed. You groan as he lays you down, piling pillows behind you to prop you up. He sits with his legs over the side and pushes his head back. You come to, little by little, pushing through the fog.

You hug yourself and wiggle in place. He reaches to still you, his hand on your thigh. You wince and stare at his fingers. He draws his knee up and shifts to face you. He removes his touch as his eyes cling thoughtfully to the wall behind you.

"I see you've calmed down," he begins and lets his gaze fall on you, "so we will talk. I'm sure you're aware that matters are urgent."

"No..." you utter, "I'll... go."

You try to sit up and he nudges you back. You hit the pillows and do not try again. You don't have anything left in you.

"Where?" He challenges.

"I have a hotel room--"

"No," he shakes his head, "that won't do. What I'm offering, well, you can hardly deny it."

You drop your head and shrug.

"How many more nights can you afford? And without a job? I'm offering you both. Work, accommodation. I dare to say, I would offer you a home."

"No, you're my boss," you insist.

"Yes, I do expect you to shoulder some tasks," he assures, "but perhaps... we might remold this arrangement."

Your eyes stick blankly to your knees. You don't know what he wants or what he means. Just more. It's always more. Hasn't he taken enough?

"What more can you want from me?" You whisper.

He's quiet again. His fingers twiddle and he lifts his hand, touching your arm and slowly grasping it. He unwraps it from your torso and trails down to your hand, squeezing it.

"I made myself clear before," he pulls your hand closer, cradling it as he pets your knuckles, "but perhaps you still misunderstood me." He clasps your hand between both of his, "I want you. Entirely."

Your eyes flick up to meet his. Your mouth falls open as your heart tempos wildly. You still don't think you understand. Your search his face for the answer.

"I will grant you any wish. Clothes, jewellery, whatever you like. If you like to read, I will buy you books, if you like to draw, I will buy you paint. If you just want shiny things, I can get those too. All I ask is simple. For you. For your entire being. That you obey and serve my every need and you will have all you ever longed for. Things you never even dreamed of," he slips a hand away and lifts yours. He leans in and softly kisses your knuckles, "you say I am bad, but I needn't be.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 3 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

The riff raff like you, for example.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what we want!” hissed another.

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

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

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

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

Oh no, Freyja, please save me…

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

Instead, you willed a savior into existence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We begin?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Begin.”

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

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

“Yes, my Lord.”

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

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

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

“Yes, my Lord.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my Prince, thank you for--”

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

“Prince, my Lord, tha-ah-AH!”

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

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

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

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

“Aaaaaahhhhh Lokkiiiiii---”

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

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

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

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

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

“My chains, Sire!”

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

It was too late. You were undone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Prince Loki always got what he wanted.

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thekatfuzz · 7 months

Text

Shadow of a Doubt (Preview)

So how about that episode 2 huh?? 👀 when I saw Loki using his shadow magic for the first time in the trailer even before the episode released I knew I had to write a fic about it. So here 'tis!

Pairing: Loki x TVA Hunter Reader

Warnings: eventual smut, shadow magic, use of restraints, slight non-con, slight dark!Loki. **contains slight spoilers for Season 2.**

Rating: M

London, 1977

Night in the city never slept. It wasn't a stressful or rushed state of being awake, but it was rather just alive and existing. The distant sound of sirens from a fire truck nearby, some honking cars here and there, and the distant music and chatter of people on the phone or couples talking to each other walking past you. The ambiance and the world around you seemed distant and unimportant in comparison to your important mission--compromise Variant L1130-- also known as Loki Laufeyson.

You've seen him before, at the TVA and in files that you read. He thought he was the God of Mischief or something. At least thats what Mobius said. You didnt know what he saw in Loki. Mobius has always been interested in such strange things.

Of course, the Variant was mysterious--and not to mention, quite handsome. The mugshot on his file depicted a good-looking man with chiseled cheekbones and raven black hair. Sure, you thought he was good looking, and you wouldnt kick him out of bed if you found him there, but of course you wouldnt go out actively wanting to sleep with a rouge Variant--no matter how hot they were.

You had your assignment. And you had your warnings. Loki's file had mentioned his use of magic and illusions and the image of big, impact text on the file flashed through your head:

"IF CONFRONTED, PROCEED WITH CAUTION."

But you weren't worried. You were in disguise anyway. Your Tempad and pruning stick tucked away cleverly and your determination on display. You've dealt with hundreds of so-called perilous Variants before, how different could this one be?

You got to a shadowed intersection and you looked around. It seemed quieter here. Flickering streetlights lit the slick cobblestone streets as low footsteps and indistinct chatter could be heard. A few people could be seen walking here and there a distance away, but there wasn't much here. All of a sudden, you could have sworn you saw a person appear out pf nowhere out of the corner of your eye. You would have usually just shrugged off as your eyes playing tricks on you in the dimly lit street and kept walking, but something didnt feel right.

The air felt colder and it felt like the sounds of the world were even more further away now as a chill ran up your spine. You felt alone but at the same time, like you were being watched. You looked around frantically, not even knowing what you were looking for. Your hand went quickly to where you hid your pruning stuck, ready to fight or fly.

Suddenly a shadow caught the corner of your eye on the wall. You turned to face it, but it was gone.

What the hell?

Your breathing became faster and you leapt into action, running away. You barely made it a few feet until you felt your arm be tugged backwards, halting you. You shot your head back to see who was holding you back, fully ready to fight back--only to see in surprised confusion that there was no one holding your wrist. It was like a ghost was gripping your arm with invisible fingers but very real strength.

It took you longer than it should have to notice the towering shadow on the wall. It was definitely a human, a male probably, holding your arm. It was like the shadow, somehow, was restraining you.

"What the...." you whispered aloud.

You tried to wriggle free and managed to for a few seconds, until you felt another similar invisible hand grip your other wrist. The next thing you knew you were pinned with your back against the stone wall, looking out at the end of the alleyway where light poured in through a rectangular opening.

Heart thundering and mind racing, you extended your neck a bit in front of you and looked up at the wall you were held against. Two large shadows this time. They looked the same, each holding your arms out to the side like you were shackled to the hard stone wall.

Then, you saw it. First from one shadow, than the other-- a set of sharp, curving horns began to grow out of the black shadows' heads. You watched in surprise as the horns began to bloom and didnt even notice the man striding towards you, eyes glowing an otherworldly green.

"Well, well..." purred the voice, in a velvety English accent. "What have we here?"

Loki.

The infamous Variant stepped out the shadows in a very elegant suit with a white ruff in his chest and a neat bow tie. His hair was slicked black and his hands were clasped behind his back. He sauntered over to you, smirking. Looking like a spider who had just caught a decadent fly in its web.

He waved his hand again, and your clothes changed as your breath hitched. Your disguise melted away to reveal your black TVA hunter armor. You gritted your teeth. This was annoying, but this wouldnt stop you. So what he knew you were from the TVA. He would be incarcerated there soon enough.

You jerked and struggled against the shadow bonds as Loki chuckled.

"Don't bother, darling." He mused. "Shadow magic--quite useful, actually. Very hard to break out of it's grip."

"Loki Laufeyson--" You said, hoping your voice carried more confidence and certainty than you felt. "You are under arrest by the Time Variance Authority for crimes of sabotaging the Sacred Timeline."

He raised an eyebrow. "Am I?" He said in mock surprise. He looked around. "So I've been told before."

He stepped closer to you, his features sharp in the dim light. "Go on then hunter, arrest me." He put out his wrists in an exaggerated act of surrender. He paused a moment then looked back up at you. "Oh dear, but you can't though, can you? You seem to be a little...incapacitated, darling."

"Don't call me that." You spat, blood boiling. Maybe you wouldnt even take him back to the TVA--maybe you would just give yourself the satisfaction of pruning him right here and now.

He looked taken aback.

"Trust me Variant, when I'm free--"

"I'll be sorry?" Loki said, sounding bored. "Yes, yes. Heard it all before. You hunters are so cute when you try to threaten me."

He stepped closer yet again to your restrained body, closing the space between you. You could nearly feel his breath on your face now as he looked down at you with his piercing green gaze.

Your heart hammered in your throat, loud enough that you hoped he couldn't hear.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked, running a finger down your cheek, making you shudder.

Your face flushed, praying he couldnt see it in the darkness.

"Of course I do." You choked out. "You're a villain. A Variant. A threat to Time itself." You stabbed. Loki smirked.

"Am I?" He said, amused. "You seem to have such strong opinions about me. Did they warn you about me, Variant? About how dangerous and horrible I can be?"

"I'm not afraid of you." You said boldly. "I haven't even seen you do anything more than your silly shadow puppets and your outfit-changing trick."

"Oh." Loki growled. He came even closer to you and grabbed your chin, his chest pressing you against the hard brick wall behind you. Your wrists felt cold and ached from the restraining phantom hands.

"Well..." Loki said, lifting your head up forcefully. He lowered his voice to a growl, and locked his gaze with yours. "Perhaps I've just been waiting for a moment like this, so I can do terrible, awful things to you."

#tom hiddleston #loki #hehe >:3 #loki x reader #loki x you #tva #loki series #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #marvel #fic #loki smut #loki lemon #dom!loki #dark!loki

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silver-tongued-bby · 6 months

Text

The Fall - Chapter I

Pairing: Manipulative!Dom!Loki x Sub!fem!Reader

This work is set in an AU.

Words: ~2,400

Summary: A chance encounter at the grocery store has you second guessing yourself and well, everything else.

This is work of fiction is 18+!!!!, and contains graphic descriptions of rough sex, manipulation, sadism, Loki who likes to see you cry, a dom/sub dynamic, a broken reader with family issues, cigarette smoking. Please do not interact if you are a minor or are sensitive towards any of the themes mentioned above.

~~~

It really was a bad fucking day.

The exaggeratedly bad type of day that was reserved for shitty romcoms or late-night comedies, the ones that made your stomach curl. Everything that could go wrong did.

And so here you were, feeling sorry for yourself as you vacantly stared at the neatly stacked ice cream containers behind the glass. You rubbed your eyes and caught a glimpse of someone in the reflection, flinching with a start.

It took you a moment to recognise her - that girl. The one that showed up when you were at your lowest. That girl that looked so much like you, but without the mask. The mask that made you a functioning member of society, that got you jobs, friends, and dates. You looked at this girl, the one with tears in her eyes wrapped in a men’s coat four sizes too big for her and wondered when exactly she’d come into existence. It seemed she’d always been there, growing as her parents did their very best to do their absolute worst.

You blinked again, sighing at your reflection before turning around, vacant stare now aimed at the boxes of crackers behind you. You weren’t hungry - not really. Your feet had just carried you to your car, so you drove yourself here, as if a 1AM visit to the grocery store would fix things.

Blinking away the fresh tears, you grabbed a box of Cheez-Its off the shelf and turned, your bleary eyes meeting those of the stranger at the end of the aisle.

Something in his stare stopped you, pinned you in place. His expression was neutral, but something in that blue-green told you to turn around and run, though your clever feet had seemingly retired for the evening.

You could tell he was handsome, though you didn’t lift your gaze from his. You felt as if he’d somehow stripped you bare, easily seeing all you desperately tried to hide.

You opened your mouth to speak, though you hadn’t the slightest idea of what to say. His eyes flickered down to the box in your hand before snapping back to your own and a second later he carried on, walking past the aisle to the next.

You stood there on uneasy legs, a frown tugging at your features. What the fuck was that?

You shivered, your heart racing, the frown deepening when you felt heat pooling between your legs. You looked to the box of Cheez-Its, then back to where he stood. No, really. What the fuck was that?

You weren’t one to make eye contact in public, especially not when you were alone, learning young of the attention it brought. But something in the way he’d looked at you made you want it - want him to look at you again.

You stopped yourself from following him, shaking your head as you walked to the front of the store. It was 1AM and you were alone in a deserted grocery store. What the hell are you doing?

Your eyes cleared a little as you made your way to the checkout counter, the stranger filling your thoughts. The only clerk working was a teenage boy, who rung up your box and gave you your total in a monotone drawl. You asked for a pack of cigarettes as well, thumbing the lighter in your pocket.

“ID?” He asked, blinking slowly at you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, feeling around in your pockets for your wallet. You’d left the house with a $20 bill crumpled in the top pocket of the giant fishing coat you donned. “I don’t have it on me.”

He shrugged, looking back at you. “Manager’s really up my ass lately. Can’t give them to you without ID. Sorry,” he shrugged again, taking the crumpled bill from you as the register opened.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you did your very best not to cry in front of this poor kid. Taking the box and pocketing the change, you walked out through the sliding doors and into the night.

Making it to your car, you pulled the keys from your pocket, the box in your other hand. You swore as the keychain slipped from your fingers, skidding against the pavement and under the only other car in the lot- parked just a spot away.

“Fuck,” you groaned, debating on whether or not to just leave them and walk home. Sighing, you got on your hands and knees, spotting the mass of keys right between the tires. You tried to reach but felt nothing, the gravel stinging against your kneecaps. You found the tears started to fall again, the day catching back up with you.

You sniffed, reaching under the car again, the keys still just out of your grasp. You sat up on your knees, shivering as you thought of what to do. You must’ve sat there for a solid minute or two, your knees aching as you wiped tear after tear from your heated skin.

“Here.” You jumped at the sound of a man’s voice, looking up to see him standing above you, your keyring hooked on his finger. He wore the same expression as before, though his eyes looked darker in the low light.

“Oh,” you sniffed again and stood, taking the keyring from him. You brushed some of the gravel off your knees, wiping another tear away with the back of your hand. “Sorry.”

You turned to leave, embarrassed, when you felt his hand against your shoulder. You looked to him, your breath catching once more as he looked down at you, his stare more intense than before.

“Your biscuits,” he said, the little smirk curling at the corner of his lip making you feel better and worse at the same time. You looked down, seeing the box at your feet. He withdrew his hand as you bent to pick it up.

“Right,” you mumbled.

“You want one?” He asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket.

You looked at his outstretched hand, the long fingers steady. Looking back to his face, the little smirk was gone. You reached out with a shaky hand, sliding a cigarette from the pack. He put one between his lips and swiftly lit it, holding out his lighter to you.

“Thank you,” you lit the cigarette then handed him back his lighter. He took it, fingers brushing yours, though his eyes were trained on the highway across the street. You stood beside him in silence, the sound of a passing car filling the air every few seconds.

“You’re pretty when you cry.” He’d turned to look at you as he’d said it, though you kept your eyes trained on the highway.

“T-thanks,” you sniffed, glancing up at him, heart racing as he looked down at you with that intensity again. You swallowed.

He held your gaze as he reached up, the tips of his fingers lightly touching your jaw as his thumb brushed away a tear. His eyes fell to your lips as you wet them, you could feel they were puffy as a result of your crying. Before your brain could catch up with his movements he’d withdrawn, pulling the cigarette from his lips to extinguish it beneath a boot.

“I’m not always like this,” you said, his gaze lifting to meet yours.

He quirked an eyebrow as he studied your face.

You shifted on your feet. “I’m usually better- normal.”

He smirked, turning to open his car door. “Of course you are.” He slid inside, turning on the engine before pulling out of the empty lot, the vehicle’s acceleration loud once it hit the highway.

You stared off in the direction he’d gone, wondering if that had really just happened. A shiver tore through you as you remembered the feel of his touch against your skin.

You should have been outraged, or at the very least disturbed at the intimacy of the action, but all you could think of was how desperately you wanted it to happen again.

You took one last drag off your cigarette and ducked into your front seat, peeling off the other way.

~~~

Looking in the mirror, you adjusted your skirt before leaning forward to swipe a thumb at your eyeliner. Leaning backwards you but your lip, sticky with gloss as your heart hammered in your chest.

You looked at your phone to check the time, letting out a shaky breath as you made for the door.

The drive was quick, one you’d become familiar with over the past week as you visited in the dead of night. Your sick little ritual performed in the hopes of seeing him again. Pulling up to the lot, your heart leapt to your throat when you saw his car, the black expensive one, parked neatly near the front of the darkened deserted pavement.

You parked a row back, locking your door as you walked quickly to the entrance. You shivered as the blast of air conditioning met your skin, eliciting goosebumps over your exposed arms. You bit your lip, deciding to take the long walk to the back aisle of the store.

You stepped slowly, shoes clicking off the scuffed linoleum as you kept your gaze forward, using your peripherals to see within the aisles. You couldn’t help the little gasp that slipped from your lips when you caught sight of his lithe, dark figure. You could feel his gaze on you as you passed by, continuing on without a glance in his direction until you made it to the laundry detergent in the next aisle. Picking up a small jug, you made your way to the cash, paying for your purchase along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

You leant against your car, lighting up a cigarette. Taking one nervous drag after another, you finished it and pulled the carton back out, slipping a fresh one from the pack. Your eyes drifted to the sliding doors as they opened.

You lit it up, watching him walk to his car. He glanced at you casually, opening his trunk for the bag in his hand.

You bit your lip, pushing yourself off the cool metal before making your way to him. “Hey,” you called out, walking closer.

He looked at you, that same gaze stripping you bare once more, making your fingers tremble around the cigarette.

“I-I was here the other night,” you came closer, your heart pounding as you took in his handsome features. He was at least twice your age. “I wanted to say thanks,” you offered him a cigarette. “I was having a rough night.”

He glanced at your hand before taking it from you. “I remember.”

You nodded as he lit it up, taking a drag.

“Is there something you want?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, unsure of what to say. What did you want from him?

There was that stare again. “How many times did you come to the grocery store at 1 in the morning this week?”

Your eyes widened.

He took a step closer. “The clerk inside told me you’d been by every night. Is that right?”

You found yourself nodding, the rest of you frozen in place.

“And what were you looking for?”

You swallowed.

He waited.

“You,” you called out, the small sound of your own voice surprising you.

“And what is it that you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” it was a whimper - barely audible over the sound of a passing car.

He didn’t say a word, simply pulling a phone from his back pocket. He handed it to you, opened to the new contact creator.

You took it in your shaky hands, typing out your name and number before passing it back to him, his fingertips grazing yours.

He put the phone back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t be hanging around here this late,” he put out his cigarette. “It isn’t safe.”

You nodded.

He slid into the drivers seat and pulled off, leaving you speechless and alone once again.

~~~

It was a week before he texted you.

The first two days any notification you got made you scramble for your phone, heart pounding, only to be disappointed yet again.

On the third day you started to lose hope, and wondered if you should go back to the grocery store. He’d told you not to - but what if that only meant he’d actually wanted you to? What if it was all a test?

After sitting in your car in the driveway for an hour you decided to go to bed with a huff, only to do the exact same thing the night after.

On the fifth day you did your best to push him from your mind - to stop the image of his face from popping up each time you closed your eyes. It didn’t work, so you spent the night awake, watching horror movies as you attempted to force him from your thoughts with blood and gore.

The sixth day you drove past the grocery store at 1:03 AM, not seeing his car there as your heart sank in your chest.

Then the seventh day came. And at eight o’clock on a Sunday you got a text, prompting you to lazily reach for your phone. You sat up straight when you saw the unknown number.

Have you figured it out yet?

Figured out what? You responded in seconds, cursing yourself for not playing it cool.

What you want from me.

Your heart raced as you reread the words, trying to think up a witty response. Only one thing echoed in your thoughts, and you found yourself typing it out, and staring at the words.

I want you to pay attention to me.

Before you could overthink it you hit send and closed your phone, throwing it to the other end of the couch. The soft ping made you reach for it, your heart in your throat.

What are you willing to do for my attention?

You swallowed, staring at the words. A normal person wouldn’t respond, recognising that statement for what it was. A red flag. A huge one at that. You knew what he was asking for, and yet you typed out a response, quickly hitting send.

Anything.

You watched the three dots at the bottom of the screen.

Let’s get dinner.

~~~

To be continued...

~~~

Author's Note: Ok ok ok so this is very loosely based off of this one-off interaction I had at a grocery store (years ago), as well as a somewhat popular account on here that I am both fascinated and disgusted with at the same time. Reader is in for a sketchy time...

Thank you so much for checking out my latest work. A new chapter of Tear You Apart is coming soon.

And thank you to all of my followers for your continued support during my hiatus 🖤

As usual, likes, reblogs, and comments are always immensely appreciated. 🖤 🖤

#dark!loki #loki smut #dark loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki fic #dark fic #manipulation kink #loki au #loki x you #loki x you smut #bd/sm dynamic

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homesickn · 1 year

Text

My Heart

Soft!dark Loki x Reader. (Ghostface!Loki)

Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!

(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)

Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)

You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.

A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.

You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.

And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.

Far away from your home on Earth.

As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.

But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.

You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.

He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.

“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.

“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.

Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.

However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.

Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.

“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.

“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.”

You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored.

The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.

“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.

You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball.

“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.”

“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.

Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second.

He smirks as he catches you staring.

“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment.

“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.

“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.

“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.

“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.

You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.

“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”

★

You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.

There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you.

“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”

They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.

The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.

Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it.

“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.

“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.

“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.

“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.

“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness.

“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”

He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness.

“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.

He continues.

“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”

Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.

He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”

“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”

“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”

As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.

Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.

“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.

“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”

“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”

You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.

“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.

“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”

“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.

“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.

“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.

“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”

“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”

You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.

And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.

Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss.

Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.

A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.

“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”

“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.

You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area.

You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.

Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.

You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.

You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands.

You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth?

Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?

You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.

You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.

“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.

“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.

“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”

You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable.

“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.

Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.

“Hello?!”

“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”

“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”

“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.

“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.

“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.

As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.

“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”

“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.

“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.

“I told you, I'm packing my things.”

“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.

“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”

“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.

“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.

“I was there too. Are you also human?”

“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered.

“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”

“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.

“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”

“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.

“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.

“...What?”

“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion.

You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.

You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.

“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.

After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.

You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.

You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.

Your phone rings.

“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”

“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.

“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”

“Please…don't hurt me…”

“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”

“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.

“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”

“What?! No…” You cry.

The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.

You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone.

“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.

Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.

“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.

You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen.

You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.

You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.

He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.

“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”

“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.

And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.

You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.

You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.

“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.

“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.

“Please…”

“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”

“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.

He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.

Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.

You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.

“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess.

Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.

“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.

“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”

“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”

“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.

“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.

“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him.

He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself.

“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically.

“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!”

“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”

“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.

The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way.

“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”

You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears.

“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.”

You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.

“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”

“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.

“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.

“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.

“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!”

“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”

All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.

“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.

“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act.

A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.

“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”

“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.

You feel his gloved hands caress your arms.

“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body.

You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder.

“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved.

What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.

You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.

“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.

“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”

“What? W-what do you mean by that?”

“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do.

“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.

He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.

“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.

Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?

“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?”

“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.

“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”

He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him.

“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.

“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.

“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”

“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.

You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound.

You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.

You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears.

You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is.

There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.

Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.

You cry like a little kid.

You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.

You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.

“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve.

He's the one that hangs up this time.

You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.

He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.

You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.

“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.

He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.

“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.

Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes.

To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.

“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.

They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.

He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.

“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.”

He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.

He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.

He kisses you.

“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.

Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.

The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.

He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.

He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.

The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.

He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.

He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.

Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.

Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.

"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."

Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.

“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”

Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.

“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.

“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”

“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.

Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.

His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.

“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.

He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.

“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”

His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.

“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.

“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.

“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.

He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.

“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.

He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.

You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.

He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.

“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?

“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.

He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.

“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.

“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.

He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.

He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.

You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?

“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.

Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.

Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.

“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.

He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.

“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.

You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.

“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.

His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.

“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.

He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.

He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.

He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.

“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.

“Y-you don't.”

“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”

Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.

You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.

You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.

You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.

He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.

“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”

He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.

“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”

You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.

“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.

He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.

“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.

And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.

“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.

“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.

“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.

“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”

“What will happen now?”

“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”

You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.

He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.

You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.

“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.

“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.

“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.

“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”

Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.

It gives you the chills.

“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.

“My love, my heart, it's over now.”

Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.

“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”

Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.

“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.

You clear your throat to say.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101

#dark!loki #soft!dark loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki odinson #loki angst #ghostface!loki #ghostface!au #loki of asgard #loki laufeyson x reader #possessive!loki #obsessive!loki #yandere!loki #loki smut

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ladyhiddlestoner · 7 months

Text

The New King

Part One

Part two is here

Summary: Loki wins the New York battle and becomes the king. He wants to play with his newest toy

Note:This is my first writing I hope you like it.

Warnings: Smut,(Well, there are a lot of warnings. Please don't read this if you're under 18.)

"Do you know who I am? Do you comprehend how little you are compare to me, human? You should be in awe of my mere presence. I am Loki, the god of mischief, your king."

He said this with a dominant voice as he was sitting on his throne with his scepter in his left hand, while she was kneeling in front of him with her hands tied behind her back. She felt so nervous, and her heart was racing.

She looked around. The room was full of guards.

"Look at me, midgardian girl. You know why you're here, don't you?"

She looked down and whispered quietly, "Yes."

He hummed in approval. "Say it. And make sure to be loud enough for everyone to hear. "

She paused for a moment and said, with a shaky voice, "I'm... I'm here to serve you, my king."

"That was good, my toy, but that wasn't loud enough. Louder. " He commanded.

She closed her eyes and repeated, this time louder. "I'm here to serve you, my king."

The god of mischief laughed and sat back on his throne. " Good girl!" he says as he sipped his drink.

"But I don't want your empty words of politeness. I want your fear. And your submission."

He sat up and started to walk towards her. He put his hand on her neck and squeezed a bit at first, but he started to increase the pressure. She yelped from the pain.

"I'll let you go on one condition, human. You submit completely and absolutely to me." He laughed at her tears and watched her in amusement.

"Say it. Admit that you are mine, and I am your master. Say it. I command you." He squeezed her neck even further. She started to choke, and then he loosened his grip a little.

She cried and begged, still couldn't breathe. "Please, I'm yours."

"Good, then say it louder. I want to hear you say it. " He squeezed her a little harder, just enough to remind her of her situation. She didn't know how, but she managed to speak louder. "I'm yours." She said it with a trembling voice, tears running down her cheeks.

He smiled with glee and released the squeeze on her neck.

"That's a good girl. I will reward your submission greatly." He kissed her cheek and stroked her neck.

She gasped as she tried to breathe.

He took her into his arms.

"Shh, shh, now, my pretty little toy...everything is alright." He stroked her hair and smiled at her, "You will be treated well."

He whispered to her, "It has been centuries since I have had my way with a human. You should be...thrilled about the honour of being my plaything. Now...kiss me."

She panicked, moving slowly towards him and blew a light kiss on his cheek.

He smirked and pulled her closer, kissing her lips passionately, "Good girl… That's it…"

She panted as her heart was racing.

"Now you're getting the hang of it." He smiled seductively. He looked over at the royal guards, who were watching with intrigue.

"Your body is mine now, pet, to do what I please with." He whispered in her ear.

"I am going to show you what a god can do to a mortal woman." He pulled her closer and whispered his intentions as he kissed her neck lightly. She gasped as his lips touched her neck. Her cheeks started to turn red.

He bit softly down her neck and started slowly untying her hands.

He whispered back to her, "You will give me much pleasure, pet, You have nothing to fear. This night is going to be...epic." He stroked her hands softly. Then he put his hands on her dress, starting slowly to undress her. She pulled back and whispered shyly, "But sir, the guards are here."

The god of mischief snickered and grabbed her hand to stop her,"Shhh, My Toy. They are here to watch us. They want to see what a god can do to a mortal woman, and you will show it for them." He gave her a seductive glare and sided his hand down her cheek.

"You are mine, girl." He whispered back to her, "and I will do as I please with you now."

"Please, maybe they can leave, sir." She pleaded.

"No, pet, they will not leave. They will stay here, in awe and envy of the great Loki's powers with a mortal woman." He took his hand and sided it past her ear and started caressing her. "There's nothing to be afraid of my toy, They enjoy it." He smirked.

"But I've never been naked in front of anyone, sir. I can't." She looked down.

He smiled seductively,"You don't have a choice now, girl. You're mine." He started slowly to took her dress off.

"Let them watch." He whispered to her.

Her dress fell off her chest as he tried to hide herself, She was glad that at least she still had her bra on.

He smiled and took her hand, making her stand in front of the royal guards with nothing but her underclothes on.

"This is what you want, isn't it, my pretty girl? To be adored? To have them envy your body? And me, as the owner...the master." He grinned.

She closed her eyes and shook her head in shame. Her cheeks were so red and her body was trembling. She looked at the god with pleading eyes.

"Shhh, no shame, little mortal. This is why the gods took mortal girls...so they could serve them in very way." He said slyly, enjoying her embarrassment and shyness.

He chuckled and put his hand on her chin lifting her head up. He put a finger on her lip.

"Listen. You can hear them wanting it and enjoying. But you are mine to possess." He grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

He could feel her warm breath now. She put her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes,"But I've never done this before, it feels weird and wrong."

"That's what makes it interesting, my plaything. He smiles as he caressed her chin, and whispered right by her ear.

It's not wrong when you are under the protection of the god of mischief. You don't know it yet, but you crave this."

He kissed her throat again and whispered mischievously,"You're enjoying this...you're letting me take care of you... aren't you?"

She loved it when his lips touched her, and his voice and words were doing magic to her. She didn't know how, but she was convinced. Well, it wasn't like she had a chance against the god of mischief. She stood there and let him do what he wanted to her. And she nodded in defeat.

He smiled, he was amused, and he stroked her hair with his hand.

"That's it... That's a good girl. You are doing so well, my little courtesan." He looked at her, licking his lips.

"You are learning quickly that you can let go...submit...let me control you. It doesn't feel wrong, does it?" He asked seductively.

She didn't say anything, she just stood there obediently.

Loki caressed her cheek and pulled her face towards his. Somehow, she was trying to hide herself with his large figure, but he noticed that." You can't hide yourself away like this. I want to see you." He caressed her neck." And I want them to see it happen...okay?"

He whispers seductively. He gave her goosebumps each time he whispered in her ear.

He leaned back and looked at her half naked body and admired her. He caressed her skin and ran his tongue across her neck. "My, my. What exquisite skin. Like gold under the moonlight. Such a delicacy." He smiled seductively. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to see this..." He bit her neck gently and whispered.

She jumped a little from the pain.

"Shhh, that's okay." He bit down even harder, drawing a few trickles of blood. "I like it when you're in pain, my beautiful human."

"Does it hurt?" He whispered to her. "Or does it feel more like pleasure...?" He looked at her closely with a smirk on his face as she feels his hot breath on her neck. She felt herself grew wet, it felt so good. She let out a quiet moan. "Umm... It's kind of both." She said hesitantly.

He bit down harder than before, smiling as he saw the pained expression on her face.

"Oh…so the human body is quite sensitive to pain? And in such a pretty place, the neck? Do you know what happens when you mix pain with pleasure?"

She gasped at the pain and shook her head. She was scared by the way he was treating her.

He saw the fear in her eyes and his smile grow to a wicked smile.

"Oh...but my toy...if I enjoy causing pain...and you enjoy receiving it...that means we're both winners...don't you think?" He said as he bit down harder, drawing more blood. She whispered from the pain and pleasure.

"You like that, don't you?" He asked with an evil smile, then bit down harder, holding her still. "That's right...your pain turns you on, doesn't it...?"

She nodded.

"Use your words, pet, and address me as your master." He ordered.

"Yes ,master." She said with a low voice.

"Good girl...that's exactly what I like to hear." He saw the red bite marks covering her neck and felt her body shaking from terror. "Hmm...what else can I do to you?" His voice dripped with excitement.

"Why don't you just close your eyes..." He placed his hand over the bite marks on her neck." And wait... I will surprise you."

He put his hands on her breasts, and cupped them gently. Then he started to unclip her bra. "Hmm. ..Let's move on to something more ...interesting." He whispered in her ear.

"We'll see what happens when your body is fully exposed for the world to see… " He chuckled and whispered to her.

He caressed her body up and down.

"Good girl!"

She kept her eyes closed while her breath was heavy and her heart was beating so fast.

He moved to her lips and kissed her softly. While he was touching and stroking her breasts, he rolled his hands slowly around her nipples and said, "Yes, that's right...just give yourself to me, my dear." He whispered in a husky voice.

He smiled slyly as he pulled her body closer, his voice still whispering in her ear.

"Good, toy. I'm so proud of you, little girl. You'll learn to enjoy being my plaything. And you'll learn to make yourself useful for me."

He ran his fingers across her lips.

"There's something more I want."He whispered suggestively. "Will you give me that for this night?"

"And what is that, Master?" She asked nervously.

He chuckled; his voice was full of excitement. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun…"

His smile grew wider as he motioned for one of his guards to approach. He looked over at the guard and nodded. The guard moved closer to her and touched her cheek.

She looks scared and confused. She tried to avoid his touch, but he grabbed her waist.

Loki asked the guard while he was holding the poor girl in place, "Have you ever been with a mortal woman?"

The guard said, as he was looking at her with lust and desire. "No, my lord, I haven't."

She blushed, she was really confused. Didn't he say that you are mine? She thought.

The other guards envied his luck so much. Wanting to be in his shoes.

"Oh, that's a shame. They are such fun. Look at her, so young and pure, ripe and ready." He smirked and turned to her.

"Look at her, guard, have you not wanted to have a mortal woman before?"

He gestured at her, and looked at her with a lustful glance. "Look at those curves, look at those eyes, and her lips, so, so kissable"A smirk formed on Loki's face, and he nodded at the shuddering girl indicating that she should give her body to the guard.

She was scared now, and it only became worse as he asked the guard to continue to touch her body.

She looked at the god and protest. "But, please, you said that I'm only yours." She shuddered.

"Only to me? Well, what kind of god would I be if I took ownership from others? You...my dear girl...are to be shared with my warriors." He smiled mischievously.

#tom hiddleston #loki #loki smut #dark!loki #dom!loki x reader #dom!loki x sub!reader #loki x reader

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highonmarvel · 8 months

Text

Can’t even trust yourself

Loki: Strange nights affect your days.

An entry for Day 6 of the exciting @sintember challenge!

Warnings: NON-CON, nightmares, severe anxiety and paranoia, possible psychosis, 18+!

Prompt: Cant’t even trust yourself, ft Loki of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

For the 11th night in a row you startle awake with a gasp, heart hammering, body sweating so much you can’t go back to sleep without taking a shower. You had been having these strange dreams for nearly a year now, but the last month or two they had been so vivid they felt more real than life itself.

You drag yourself out of bed, trying to slow your breathing as you make your way to the bathroom. The worst part is you don’t even really remember these dreams, just that they leave you panicked and weak and sore all over, but particularly your breasts, between your thighs, and your neck; blame it on your lack of sex.

You flick on the light in the bathroom and turn to the mirror. You shriek and nearly jump back in shock at your reflection. Where your neck feels tender, there’s a purple bruise spreading across your skin. You try to smudge it off, hoping it was fucking paint or something, who cares, you were just hoping it wasn’t really a bruise… not a bruise like that. No matter how hard you wipe it, it doesn’t come off. It’s just a random bruise, you tell yourself, some people bruise easily, maybe you hurt yourself and didn’t notice. Yeah. Though, still, as you stand under the flow of boiling water, so hot you wonder how it hasn’t burnt your skin off, you scrub violently at the mark. It’s still there when you take another look in the mirror.

After barely getting any sleep last night, you’re exhausted in the morning as you made your way to the office. Whether or not you usually get coffee, you know you’d physically need it today, and so you take a quick detour to the café across the street. You’re happy to see the cheerful blue-eyed barista is working this morning, and happy the place is near empty; only a tall figure in front of you in the line and a pair of scattered young people bent over laptops with papers and highlighters cluttering the table. Finals, you think, noting the 10+ empty coffee cups littering their feet.

You wait patiently (though you’re exhausted) behind the man as he gives his order, and Roger the barista nods and hurries to make it. Was that even his name? You didn’t really know, he wasn’t in too often, you just spotted him by those bright blue eyes. Maybe it was Riley or Ringo or something.

The man in front of you is handed his drink, and when you turns around, your blood runs cold. You take a deep gasp and step backwards. You don’t even get a good look at him before his back is towards you and all you can do is stare at his disappearing silhouette. You’re shaking, and you don’t know why; you can’t at all recall his appearance besides pale skin and long, black hair, but still it’s like he flipped some kind of switch and adrenaline started pumping through every vein in your body.

“Ma’am?”

You turn at the voice back to the counter. It’s not the blue-eyed barista you’re met with: you see the same face, but with eyes pure black.

You stumble out of the coffee shop without getting the caffeine you need, because you can not stay in there a second longer. Maybe you don’t need the coffee; now you feel fully alert. You jump as strangers passes by as you make your way across the street and up to your desk, trembling so much you wonder if you’ll ever stop. Once you’re at your desk, though, you do feel a little better; you’re no longer shaking, but still, anyone that comes up to you scares the fuck out of you, you have many close calls with an entire fucking heart attack, you can swear it. A few people ask you throughout the day if you’re okay, if you need to go home, but you assure them you’re fine, and when you finally get off, you feel kind of good about yourself for sticking it through the day, but that feeling fades as the sun does.

It’s dark out when you hop out of your car and make your way up to your apartment, and it doesn’t help your anxiety that the lights have been flickering in the corridor of your floor for about a week now, and no one had bothered to fix it.

The lift opens and you step out into the passage with the lights having a seizure of their own, it seems. Dark, light, dark, light, you’re at least glad it’s consistent, but while on any other day this would have been an annoyance, today, it’s panic-inducing.

Your place is near the end of the corridor, quite far down, and while you want to run, something tells you your body can’t take having to increase your heart rate any further or you’ll drop dead in the middle of your sprint. And why should you run? You’re a little angry with yourself—it was just a weird dream, and it had you fucked up all day. Pathetic. Your irritation does little to drown out your fear, however. On and off the lights flick at rhythm, like they’re singing a song on a steady beat.

You’re a few steps in when the lights go out for one, two seconds too long, barely enough time for feat to build, but it does; you know you can’t trust yourself to discern reality from fiction, but you do. You start walking faster. You throw a look over your shoulder; in front of the elevator stands a tall silhouette, but breathing; an alive shadow. You gasp and spin around to face it. There’s nothing there. You turn back, walking faster and faster now, but still trying to refrain from running.

The lights flick off, flick on, there’s a shadow. Flick off, flick on, there’s a shadow. What can you do except run straight towards it? Your door is in that direction, you just need to get inside. Maybe it would have seemed insane to anyone on the outside—it felt insane to you—but you start running, full speed towards what you’re trying to escape. On and off the lights flick and the silhouette comes in and out of sight, unmoving, and deeply unsettling.

You don’t know how you get your door open so fast, but you do, not fumbling once with your keys despite your wrecked state. You slam the door closed behind you and lock it, firmly pressing your back against it as you begin to hyperventilate.

What the fuck.

Tears are streaming down your face and you swear your chest is caving in on itself. You grasp at the kitchen counter and heave yourself forwards, breaths coming in and out at lightning speed, yet you still don’t feel you’re getting enough oxygen, you don’t feel you’re getting any oxygen, for that matter. It feels like a hand is wrapped around your throat, asphyxiating you as you stumble around your living area.

A hand? And pulling?

You’re being led towards your bedroom by your neck, and though you want to say it’s the miracle of getting your feet to move again, no, there’s definitely something pulling, dragging you towards your room.

You claw at the doorway and dig your heels into the ground, but that barely deters whatever is acting upon you. You’re flung onto the bed, and hit the mattress with a force that feels way too familiar, though obviously this has never happened before; you’d never had a ghost drag you through your home, or maybe it was psychosis, but you’d never had a psychotic episode like this.

You prop yourself up onto your forearms and scan the room for a sign of anything. At this point, you’re hoping someone will pop out, to confirm you haven’t completely lost it. And you immediately regret that hope.

Out of seemingly thin air, a figure steps forward. You know it. Tall, every tall, and long black hair, pale skin, you saw him at the café, but that’s not where you know him from, you know him from something much more personal, something deeper; you barely know him in your conscious mind, but your subconscious recognises it all.

This is a dream! it strikes you, and you slightly calm down, knowing you’re going to wake up at any second now. Why aren’t you waking up? A man you’ve never seen before is still stalking towards you.

You scream and kick your feet as he reaches the foot of the bed, even though he hasn’t touched you yet. In a literal flash he grips your ankles and twists, prying your legs apart and pinning your feet on the bed. Still, you struggle against him. He removes his hands, and now in their place are glowing virescent ropes tying you down, your hands have been restrained too, each limb reaching towards a corner of the bed. You writhe, twisting and thrusting your hips, crying the whole time. Why aren’t you waking up? What the fuck is even happening?

But you know exactly what it is happening.

The dark-haired man snaps his fingers and you’re naked and exposed. Maintaining direct eye contact with you, calmly, despite your conniption, he slowly pushes two long fingers into his mouth and drags them out with a pop.

Wake up, wake up, wake up, you will yourself, wishing more than anything ever, and more than anyone ever could to just wake up!

He unbuckles his belt, still quiet (why hasn’t he said anything?) and staring you down. And suddenly, he pounces on you, diving to harshly suck on your neck, the spot that had been sore. You try to bring your hand down to push him away but are met with the unfriendly reminder you’re restrained. You cry out at the assault, his sucking and biting is near animalistic.

And someone, you call out a name, his name, “Loki!”

४

#sintember 2023 #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #yandere loki #yandere!loki #dark avengers #dark!avengers

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shadeysprings · 1 year

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The Princess of Asgard

—Loki x F!Reader

Summary: Your supposed vacation on Asgard takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings: kidnapping, non-consensual arranged marriage, betrayal & violence.

A/N: Written for @lokisgoodgirl as they've been wanting some Dark!Loki recently. Ngl, I do miss writing him. Un-beta so may be meh.

Your feedbacks and reblogs are highly appreciated. Support Content Creators! And I hope you guys enjoy! ❤️

The tears continue streaming down your face as you stare at your reflection in the vast mirror hanging on the wall. The emerald gown you were forced to wear shimmers beautifully against the light of your chambers and you wish you could appreciate such a delicate garment, to bask at the regality being laid upon your feet.

But you can’t, not even a shred of happiness can be found within, for such gifts have come with a price, one you know deep down you cannot pay.

You blame your naivety, for it’s what brought you into your situation in the first place. The excitement burst from you when Thor and his brother, Loki, invited you to see their home. The stories of Asgard have held a vice on you since you were young, mesmerized at how beautiful the images scholars painted of a place they’ve never seen before. And being given that opportunity, to witness what no one else on earth has, was too irresistible not to take.

“What are you wearing?” Loki asks upon seeing you when you open the door, his eyes trailing down your body before stopping at your face.

“Oh, am I underdressed?” You ask, looking down at the graphic tee and canvas shorts you put on that morning. “I just thought of dressing light since it’s summer here.”

“Not at all, darling.” He smiles before ushering himself into your room along with a stout middle-aged woman with stacks of fabric nestled in her arms. “But I was thinking you would dress like an Asgardian during your stay here.”

The woman, who Loki introduces as Thyra, lays the assortment of fabric on the foot of your bed, dresses of silk and satin, looking delicate to the touch. You look up at Loki, eyes wide in disbelief and awe.

“Take your pick.” He instructs but nears the emerald dress all the same and runs his fingers against its skirts. “But I personally think you would look good in this.”

You scan the garments, the gold and beige sitting idly on the mattress, both in the same cut and style. Only the emerald dress stands out from the bunch, looking regal and elegant. But regardless of his suggestion, your eyes still land on the beige, hand reaching over to caress the silk before taking it.

“But this would look more in season, don’t you think?” You tell him, a smile playing on your lips. He smiles back but you can’t help but notice how it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Though after that morning, the dresses presented to you were all of the same color, emerald fabrics dancing against the lights of your room, leaving you no choice but to wear the green thrust upon you.

Your first week on Asgard was spent touring the palace and the outer grounds, Loki always at your side, arm intertwined with yours as he introduced you to his friends, along with the other lords and ladies in Thor’s court. A feast was even thrown in your honor, and even if you found the extravagant event fun and entertaining, the way you were regarded by royals and commoners alike threw you off guard.

But it didn’t stop there. Even after the feast, people bowed at your wake and called you princess, the title off-putting considering you were not close to such status, a mere civilian and average citizen on earth.

You thought they were doing so to show respect to the king and the prince’s visitor, but that one-morning exchange with Thyra, when she entered your room without your permission and started laying out a dress on the top of your bed, told you otherwise.

“It’s unheard of in all the realms for a princess to dress herself.” Thyra says in disbelief when you try to dismiss her. “I would not want the prince to scold me for not doing my work accordingly.”

“Oh—but I’m not a princess.” You tell her with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Not yet.” She simply responds before bending low and turning to leave.

And that chance encounters with Lord Fandral as you walked through the corridors of the palace alone.

“Are you lost, princess?” He asks.

You don’t understand why you’re being addressed as such. Is it customary to give visitors of the royals such titles?

With your brain too muddled with errant thoughts, you choose to brush it off and ask Loki later why they are treating you as such, you give the golden lord a smile and ask him where you can find the kitchen.

“I’d be happy to escort you, princess.” Lord Fandral says with a smile as he offers his hand for you to take.

As the days turn into weeks, the once magnificent palace felt all too suffocating; with Thyra’s constant insistence to serve you, the whispers you heard from the servants as you walked past them, and most of all, Loki’s indifference each time you asked him why you are being treated in such a weird way.

Until that day, all the answers were finally laid at your feet.

“Darling, Thyra has told me that—what are you doing?”

You don’t spare Loki a glance, irritation filling your senses as you pack all your things. “I’m leaving. I thought visiting Asgard would be great but things here are just fucking weird.” You spit, shoving your clothes in your duffel but stopping when Loki places a hand over your bag.

“You will do no such thing.” He says and you scowl up at him, but your anger shifts into curiosity, and your spine shivers when you see the seriousness in his emerald eyes. “You’re not to leave Asgard until I say so.”

“Why?!” You push his hand away and try to grab your bag but he latches onto the strap, pulling it completely from your grasp, and throws it on the ground. “What the fuck?! You can’t keep me here, Loki! I’m telling Thor and you won’t be welcomed back to the compound!”

“Go on then. He’s in the throne room right now.” He says, moving away and gesturing to the door. But the tone of his voice, calm and resolute, has fear crawling up your skin.

Yet still, you push on and walk past him, marching yourself through the halls as you try to navigate your way. You sense Loki following behind, but give him no mind, though once you find yourself lost, his chuckle resounds in your ear and you stiffen when his hand rests at the small of your back and whispers, “Just through here, darling.”

He leads you through a set of double doors and you look ahead to see Thor sitting on the throne, Mjolnir laying inanimate at his feet while addressing the people surrounding him.

His eyes meet yours and he smiles, dismissing his subjects when you march up to him. But the friendly smile fades when you stomp up the steps, a frown playing on his lips. “My lady, you seem to be in distress.”

“Hell yeah, I am.” You almost shout, pointing an accusing finger at Loki who stops at the foot of the steps. “Your brother is being an asshole. He said I can’t leave Asgard without his permission.”

Thor looks startled at your words, eyes shifting to his brother and then to you. “But why would you leave Asgard when you’re to be wed?”

You stiffen at the word. Wed? What does he mean? Your eyes dart to Loki who casually stands by the steps before climbing up toward you. He reaches for your hand but you quickly pull away, your eyes focused on him before looking at Thor who stands from his seat.

“Have you not told her, brother?” Thor asks, but his eyes remain on you.

“Told me what?!” You respond in a rush, panic rolling through your veins.

“I was supposed to while we ate breakfast but she banished her handmaiden and I caught her packing her things.”

Thor sighs but chuckles after. “Loki, you know midgardians are more unrefined in these situations than us.”

“I took your word into account, brother. Thought I would break it to her gen—”

“What the fuck are you both talking about?!” You shout, anger and fear mixing within you. “What the hell is happening?! What are you not telling me?!”

“Do you want to tell her or should I?” Thor asks his brother and Loki simply grins, giving a solemn bow to his brother. Thor faces you, blue eyes serious yet full of mirth. “You’ve accepted my brother’s gifts, have you not?”

“Gifts?”

“The dress.” He waves a hand in your direction and you look down at the green silk hanging from your shoulders. “You wear his colors, you’ve accepted his invitation to come home with him. Your chambers, adjacent to the prince’s, and a handmaiden for you to use as you please. Each one deserving of a princess.”

“But—” You stammer and shake your head. They can’t be gifts, you never even thought them to be; simply thinking that everything was part of Asgardian culture and you were not one to question their way of life. “I didn’t know they were gifts. I thought they—”

“I thought you were a smart girl but you’ve proved me wrong, little one.” Thor laughs and waves to his brother. “Enlighten her with the situation, we can’t have a scene played before the court on the day of the wedding.”

“But what if I decline?” Your voice trembles as you speak, body shaking as everything starts to make sense; why everyone calls you princess, Loki’s looming presence, and Thyra forcing you to wear the dresses instead of putting on the ones you brought with you. “I should get to decide, shouldn’t I?”

“But the decision has already been made,” Loki rebuts and you take a step back when he steps closer. “And it is seen as treason and punishable by death to go against the will of the royal family.”

You blink slowly, the air leaving your lungs as you try to process all the information that has just been said. You can’t get married, Loki may be handsome but you have no feelings for him. You feel betrayed, played with, and the pain feels too overwhelming as you saw the brothers to be your friends.

Why would they trick you? What have you done to merit such devious intent?

“It will be easier once you’ve had some food in you, darling.” Your eyes meet Loki’s when he stands close to you, his hand wrapping around your arm, thumb gently caressing your skin. “And realize that being my wife would be the best thing that has ever happened to you.”

You don’t want to agree. What the hell do they know about what’s best for you and what’s not? But you don’t fight back, instead, you nod and allow Loki to take your hand, bowing your head to Thor before following his brother out of the vast throne room.

But as soon as you pass by the doors, the guards closing them at your wake, you stomp down on Loki’s foot and clench your fists before thrusting it towards his neck, making the god stumble back while he chokes.

You don’t waste any more time and run as fast as you can, sprinting through the halls and staggering down the stairs. Several servants squeal in shock at your wake but you give them no mind, set on finding your way out of the palace and towards the bridge that you once crossed when you arrived.

Several footsteps stomp behind you and you push further, urging yourself to run faster. You can hide in the forest once you leave the palace and plan from there. All you want now and all you can do is get away from Loki and his brother and hope that you can find someone to help you and take you back home.

But you grunt when something solid catches your waist, your back pressing hard against a surface that you soon realize is someone’s chest. You try to pull away, clawing on the arm that restrains you to set yourself free, but you whimper when you feel the edge of a blade pressing against your neck, tilting your head back to avoid being cut.

“I will not be insulted by your insolence, darling.” Loki drawls against your ear. “I have been very patient with you, I have been kind. You do not want to test these waters only to end up drowning.”

“Please, Loki.” You cry and hiss when he breaks the skin, the metallic tang of your blood wafting in the air. “Why are you doing this? I thought we were friends.”

He chuckles and you let out a breath when the blade leaves your neck. But such reprieve is lost when his fingers wrap around your throat, his nose trailing down your temple and to your cheek then pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Well, darling,” He breathes, feeling rather than seeing his grin. “You thought wrong.”

Quickly, you wipe your tears away when you hear the door of your room open. You keep still, hearing soft footsteps pad through the open room and into the bedchamber, your body going stiff when you see Loki’s reflection in the mirror and resting his hands on your shoulder.

“I hope those are happy tears, darling.” He says as he greets you with a kiss on the cheek. “Today is a joyous day and I expect nothing but.”

You stay silent, unsure how to respond for you feel the opposite of happy. You’re trapped, kidnapped, into a foreign land, and betrayed by the people you’ve spent years who you trusted, and depended on to keep you safe.

Your eyes then shift to the side when Loki holds up a necklace with an emerald crystal hanging by the chain. He takes the liberty of clasping the chain around your neck, whimpers leaving your lips when his hand grazes the tops of your breasts, his finger caressing the jewel that sits on your cleavage.

“A beautiful present for my bride.” He whispers, the words stabbing your chest and you can’t help the tears from spilling once again. His brow furrows, turning you from the mirror to face him and you look down when he cups your cheek. “What’s the matter, darling? Do you not like it?” He asks. “I can get you another one, a bigger one if that’s what you want.”

“I want to go home.” You blurt out and cover your face as you sob against your palms. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

Loki then pinches your chin, making you wince and you drop your hands to your sides when he lifts your head and forces you to face him. A breath catches in your throat as you’re once more filled with fear, seeing his green eyes glow dangerously and the mischievous smirk forming on his lips.

“But darling,” He breathes, “You are home.”

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#loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #dark loki #dark!loki #dark fic #mcu #au #the princess of asgard

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muddyorbsblr · 5 months

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relinquish the crown: plans & protestations

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: Season 1, Episode 12; one month after 'from a world away'

Summary: Tensions start to run high when you and Loki thwart Prince Damien's monopolization of your schedule and the visiting prince acts impulsively, making a declaration that could ruin your once bright plans for your life in Asgard

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.3k [pls prepare drinks & snacks accordingly]

Warnings: themes of incest (he's adopted but still); potentially inaccurate depiction of an archery lesson; definitely inaccurate depiction of a royal court gathering; Prince Damien (yes he's a warning now); misogynistic behavior from the royal family of Alfheim (are we surprised?); lap sitting; Odin's A+ Grandfather-ing

Things to be aware of: Loki giving precious protective future husband energy

The sun had barely begun to rise in Asgard when Loki hopped off his bed, speeding his way through his daily morning preparations, using his magic to cut every corner he could, all to be out of his chambers and ready for when you would step out. Today he was going to be there before that blasted Prince Damien. Today he would walk to the dining hall finally by your side, as it should be.

Today the void in the shape of you that had made its presence felt for the last two fortnights would finally cease to plague him.

He took a deep breath, pleading to the Norns that when he opened the doors to his chambers the hall would be noticeably lacking in a certain bothersome visiting prince from Alfheim, and perhaps he could finally spend a sliver of time with you today. The hall was thankfully empty when he stepped out; however, he knew from days past that this did not necessarily equate to your time not being monopolized by the short-sighted scheming prince.

The sound of footsteps approaching your door from the other side filled his heart with hope, his pulse quickening when your doors opened and he caught sight of your face peeking out, an adorable expression of conspicuous alertness coloring your features as you glared at the turn at the end of the hall. Your gaze swept across the length of the hall, your eyes softening with visible relief when they met Loki's.

"Good morning, little princess," he greeted you with a chuckle, holding his hand out for you to take as you stepped out of the door. "You seem in need of a place to hide."

The god's brows knitted together the moment your full form came into view, immediately questioning the sleeves that covered the length of your arms, with holes at the end to put your thumbs through. What worsened his concern was the additional collar piece that covered the entirety of your shoulders and neck.

"Darling, are you ill?" He quickly closed the distance between you and placed the backs of his fingers to your forehead, tracing your features with his fingers, feeling for a chill under your skin.

"Ill? Gods no, Loki, don't be absurd," you answered him with a chuckle. "I have not known the displeasure of being ill since I was but a child." And then as if on queue, your face scrunched its features in clear discomfort.

"What do you call your frequent headaches, then, darling?" he prodded, pressing his fingertips to your temples and gently massaging the area, a smile coming to his face when you let out a relieved sigh in response. "Would you tell me then why you've chosen to wrap yourself as if you are to go into the tundras of my birth realm? Are you cold?"

You let out a lighthearted laugh when the god pulled you into his arms for an embrace, not hesitating to wrap your arms around his midsection to return the favor. "Not cold," you said with evident deflection. "I do however appreciate the hug. I feel as if I hadn't seen much of you, or anyone really, the past few fortnights." Loki's heart quickened in his chest when you nuzzled your cheek against his chest. "I've missed this," you sighed, sounding the paragon of contentment as you settled into his hold.

"I've missed you as well, little princess," he breathed out, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "However this does not dissipate my initial concern. Is everything alright with you? Something feels amiss."

Without lifting your head from his chest, you shook your head to answer his question, your audible groan of frustration rumbling against his skin through his robes. "This blasted prince has been monopolizing every waking moment of my time, so no. Everything is not alright. I haven't had an hour this past moon apart from sleep or bathing to barely even think. He has infiltrated every aspect of my life, and I despise it."

He rested his cheek against the top of your head, holding you just a touch tighter. "I take it the visiting prince's wandering eye has not ceased?"

"If only it were just that," you grumbled. "Now he has wandering hands as well. I reckon if he was not certain that I would chop off his manhood where he stood he would attempt to have wandering lips to go with it."

He knew that it was irrational for him to see red at that moment, for that voice in his mind to seethe and scowl "How dare he lay his hands on what is mine? Has he no awareness of what would befall him if a single hair were to fall out of place from my beloved? My fated?"

But the words stung bitterly in his heart. You may be his beloved and his fated, yes. But you were not his. Not to kiss, not to praise, not to pleasure or love.

But in this moment, perhaps he could be granted the privilege of having you as his to hold. And much as he knew you were more than able to fend for yourself, his to protect.

"This insolent boy of a prince, has he hurt you? Forced you? Pressured you in any way?" he seethed, holding you by your covered shoulders and searching your features for any sign that could tell him the answer was yes. So that he may have an opportunity to inflict some form of damage on the arrogant visitor; he'd been itching for the chance ever since his first day in Asgard where the two exchanged words that were as if they'd been meticulously chosen and woven together to crawl under his skin.

And rub into his face that his desire and love for you will remain unrequited for the rest of his days.

"Just say the word and an accident could befall him."

His growling vow didn't do much other than elicit a slight chuckle from you, your nearly covered hands reaching up to cup the sides of his face. "There's no need for that, Loki, I am more than capable of fending for myself. Truly my only frustration is that of all the things I can control where this royal farce of a courtship the only thing that slips my grasp is my time. I haven't the chance to train or plan or even study, my duties have been taken on by Grandmother's ladies in waiting or by Grandmother herself. I feel myself a burden—"

"Ah, Princess. Good morrow. I could have come here earlier had I known--Oh," Damien's words were cut short as he caught sight of you in Loki's arms. "Good…Morning, your Highness. Are you…are you ill? Your eyes are a frightening shade of crimson. Shall the princess and I call for a healer for you?"

"There will be no need for healers, Prince Damien." Your voice had lost all softness once more as you addressed him, a striking contrast with how delicately you were stroking the god's cheeks with your thumbs. "Ro deg ned," you whispered to him, giving him a beaming grin when his eyes returned to the stormy blue hue you'd grown accustomed to. For a moment he'd nearly forgotten that you two were no longer alone in the corridor.

That was, until the bothersome prince made his presence known once more. "Right then," his voice pierced through the otherwise peaceful quiet of the palace's halls. "It was such a beautiful day out I was wondering if we could arrange for a nice picnic out in the gardens or perhaps even the palace roof--"

"Unfortunately, Your Highness, it seems the princess' day would be a touch too full today," Loki cut him off, looking down at the visiting prince. From the corner of his eye he could see your face light up with more than visible optimism. "Perhaps you can postpone to another day?"

Where there was relief in your expression, there was an equal amount of evident irritation in Damien's, the smile he'd painted on his face so strained that the corners of his mouth were visibly shaking from the effort. "I already had the day planned out that the fair Princess and I would leave for the market after breakfast and--"

"As Loki said, my itinerary today is just a touch too full, Prince Damien," you cut him off, the bite in your tone slowly creeping in. "Perhaps another day."

You motioned towards the hall, your eyes burning with impatience as you wordlessly urged him to be on his way and find other plans for the day ahead. Unfortunately before he headed back down the corridor, he turned to you again, seemingly unwilling to accept that he would not be monopolizing even a fraction of your time this day. "This itinerary of yours is something you must do alone? Perhaps I could accompany you, assist you where--"

"She won't be alone," the god interjected, his tone quickly becoming sibilant as he fought to hold back his own displeasure on how this prince was imposing his presence upon you. "As you know, Y/N has been tasked to plan and arrange for the upcoming festivities for the Winter Solstice, and in the past moon since your visit had begun hasn't had much opportunity to progress these plans. She's sought my council and assistance to make up for lost time since we worked splendidly together planning for the previous festival, and we are to spend the next few days planning in hopes of replicating last season's success."

The elven prince's nostrils flared as he processed the words. Yes, you insipid little boy. The days of you wasting her time are over. You will not be what hinders her from performing her duties to the best of her abilities. From becoming the queen she ought to be when the time comes. I'll make sure of it, Loki thought to himself.

"Don't forget about training," you chimed in, your overall demeanor significantly relaxing knowing that you would not have to spend the day swatting away unwelcome hands from encroaching on your personal space. The mischievous gleam in your eyes had returned as you threw a smile the god's way. "However with all my time out of practice I can feel my strength waning a fraction, it'll hardly be a fair fight."

"Little Princess, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were asking me to treat you with a lighter hand." His fingers instinctively twitched to lightly touch your own, his heart skipping a beat when he saw your little finger reach out in a motion as if to hook itself to his own.

"You know better than that, my Prince. I would always insist on a fight consistent with that of a battlefield, don't even think of--"

"Well then," Prince Damien butted in, tone shrill and impatient. "It seems that I've been moved to make alternative plans for the following days." He hissed out his words, hilariously and equally incapable of masking his irritation as you were at hiding your relief. "I will see you again when your schedule is a little less congested, Y/N."

"Princess Y/N," you bit out, correcting him. "You've not yet earned the level of familiarity to call me by such a casual moniker, Your Highness." You motioned once again to the direction of the hall from where he came from. "Until the next engagement," you said coldly.

"Right…" The elven prince's nostrils flared once more as he turned back and walked down the corridor, footsteps heavy with his indignation from your dismissal of him.

"Does this mean I may change into…less constricting attire?" you spoke in a considerably lighter tone, softly bumping your elbow to his arm when Damien turned the corner.

"Whichever way you're comfortable with, darling." He brought your hand up to press a soft kiss to the backs of your fingers. "I can wait if you decide to change."

Your next action caught him off guard. You charged toward him and wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace. "I'll find some way to make it up to you, I swear."

The god tucked his hand under your chin, basking in the sight of the radiant grin taking over your features. "Nonsense, little Princess. The vision of your smile is more than enough." He pressed a light kiss to the tip of your nose, leading you to scrunch it at him before you ran back to your chambers to change into the attire that he and the rest of Asgard had grown accustomed to. Once you were well out of earshot and the heavy doors of your chambers stood between you two, he let out a soft exhale. "My love…"

"Fuck." You hissed out the expletive as the arrow you loosed landed a good few inches to the side of your intended target, feeling tension tighten your muscles into knots as you readied the next arrow and pulled the bowstring back.

Before you loosed your next arrow, however, Loki assumed his position next to you, one hand wrapped loosely around yours stopping you from releasing the bowstring, the other splayed over your stomach. "Wait, darling. You're letting your frustration rule you. Focus on your target and release your breath…slowly." As you exhaled, he moved his hand from your wrist to your elbow, making minute corrections and feeling for involuntary fidgeting from straining to hold your breath. "Now release."

It felt as if the world was at a standstill as your loosed arrow flew right into the dead center of your target, your jaw dropping in astonishment as it split the arrow already occupying its space straight down the middle. The arrow that your mother Lady Sif had shot into the target before departing from the training fields.

"Very nicely done," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. With a wave of his hand, a new target materialized next to it, this time in the form of of a wooden sculpture in the shape of a man that was slowly but steadily approaching you. "Now aim for his knees and elbows before he reaches you. Incapacitate your opponent before he has the chance to strike."

You turned your head as best you could only to end up cheek to cheek with the raven-haired god. "Wouldn't it be more efficient to aim for his head and stop him where he stands?"

"For the sake of this exercise, pretend that you need to capture this opponent for future interrogation. He'll be of no use to us with an arrow embedded in his skull. He's getting closer, little Princess. Make your move."

You took a breath and loosed an arrow that shot straight through the wooden dummy's knee, slowing its movement. It took a handful more attempts before you got all four targets and his enchanted wooden dummy ceased all movement.

"Decent enough," Loki murmured with a click of his tongue. "But I've seen you do much better, little Princess. You were not jesting when you said you were out of practice." You could both hear and feel him chuckling against the back of your head, hands working at the knots tensing up your shoulders. "Do not feel so discouraged, darling. A few days of regular training and you'll be back in fighting condition. We just have to work together to keep that bothersome prince from muddying your itinerary for long enough."

You let out a groan just as he hit a particularly large knot in your shoulders. "That will be quite the feat if we can keep him away even past this evening. He seems quite adamant that this time sucking endeavor—I mean, this courtship," you seethed at the word. "Would eventually lead to a formal proposal for my hand."

"Refusal would still remain an option," he offered. In truth, the god knew that it would have been questioned by Odin the second the rejection slipped from your elegant, articulate lips. And he would expect a reason that was beyond reproach for why you would burn a bridge with Alfheim so resolutely with such words.

The explanation of wishing to marry for love might not save you for much longer.

"We both know it isn't," you sighed, shoulders slumping down and out of Loki's hold. "If I say no, the ever mighty Allfather would expect a damn good reason behind it. So unless your magic can conjure me a proper husband that wouldn't turn his back on me and have a harem of concubines to fulfill his troublesome and questionable sexual appetite before this blasted Prince formally states his intention to propose, I fear my days on Asgard may very well be numbered."

"Numbered?" he gasped, your words feeling as if an anchor had just sunk to the pit of his stomach. "Y/N, darling, surely you wouldn't leave home just for--"

"Ah, there you two are." Loki stepped back from you at the sound of Sif's voice floating across the field. "My husband and Odin require your presence, Brother. You'll find them in the Main Hall with the rest of the royal court. And the visitors from Alfheim."

Your mother's words were heavy with an implication that he dared not look into for fear of the conclusion he would come to. There were few potential scenarios for what would greet him once he entered the hall. But only one screamed audaciously with the haughty air of inevitability.

The combined efforts of yours and Loki's to keep Prince Damien from consuming all your free time had led the vapid visiting royal to act rashly. To move up his timetable in such a way that his intentions to woo you would be expedited, and he required the approval of the royals above you before he could proceed.

With a brief peck to the back of your head and a nod towards you and your mother, he departed from the fields and headed off to the Main Hall to see what matter needed his opinion. Or perhaps his approval.

She began to walk the steps toward you, assessing the work you'd done on the target board and the dummy. "You require a touch of practice, my dear Daughter," she commented before her eyes landed on the center of the board once again, realizing that her arrow from earlier had actually been split down the middle. "But your aim is impeccable. I take it the last few fortnights have not been conducive to your training as a warrior…"

Your mother walked over to a small display of weapons and picked out a short sword, motioning toward it and prompting you to pick your own weapon of choice. Daggers.

"One of these days I'll have to watch you spar with your uncle," she said, both of you falling into a rhythm of swings and blows where she tested your defense capabilities. "You're quite possibly the closest to his level of proficiency with this weapon."

"He's an excellent instructor," you shot back, feeling the slightest pinch in your muscles trying to move as fast as she did. "You are right, however, Mother. This past moon has placed the slightest handicap on my agility…and my focus. Norns willing, the next few days will correct that even by a touch. At the very least, Loki seems convinced of it."

Her next swing was strong enough to get you to stumble from your stance. "You two have grown quite close…confide in each other more than others, even. Anyone watching from afar might even mistake you for--"

"Lady Sif, Princess Y/N, your presence is requested in the Main Hall."

You both promptly dropped and stashed away your weapons and followed the palace guard down the corridors toward your destination.

"Might mistake me for what, Mother?" you asked her to fill the heavy silence, trying desperately to put your mind off of what was to come once you walked through those doors.

"Pardon?"

"You were saying something earlier before we were called on to come to the Main Hall. Something about me and Loki confiding in each other…" you trailed off, hoping to prompt her of her prior train of thought.

Recollection lit up her eyes. "Ah yes, I remember now," she murmured, absentmindedly patting your shoulder as you stopped just shy of the doors, waiting for the guards to announce your arrival. "It was nothing, Daughter, truly. Put it out of your mind."

You eyed her with the slightest hint of suspicion, wondering what could have been at the end of her sentence, but ultimately did as she suggested once the palace guard opened the doors and you were greeted with the sight of a packed hall, every seat on the table occupied, with Odin seated at the head.

"Announcing the arrival of Princess Y/N and Lady Sif," the guard spoke before stepping off to the side and making a gesture for you and your mother to step across the threshold.

"I can't find a seat," you grumbled under your breath, just barely enough for your mother to hear.

"Unfortunately, Daughter, you shall be alone in your plight," she answered back with a hint of playfulness. "So long as your father is in the room, there is always a seat for me." She practically glided over to where your father Prince Thor was seated and all too happily situated herself on his thigh.

You couldn't help but watch their exchange with fondness, and a tinge of enviousness. Wondering if this type of affection could even remotely be what was in store for you with what was to come of your life once Prince Damien speaks the words. Or if it would feel as if nails were being hammered into a coffin as the days passed until you were declared his wife.

"It seems I shall be standing, then," you said a little louder, assuming your warrior's stance.

"Don't be so brash, Your Highness," one of the visiting royals from Alfheim chimed in. "There are two perfectly suitable princes more than ready to accommodate you." You raised a single eyebrow at the Alfheim courtier, silently daring him to continue and prompting a barely held back chuckle coming from Loki's direction. "I am positive Prince Damien would be more than willing to offer--"

"Yes, I am indubitably," the visiting prince interjected, sitting up straighter and vaguely reminding you of a Midgardian canine, tongue wagging as he awaited a treat.

"You said two," you pressed on, your tone showing the slightest hint of irritation. "Before you were interrupted."

"Ah yes." The courtier cleared his throat, a seemingly sinister sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Well, there is also Prince Loki."

The sound of a chortle vaguely came from the other end of the table, though you couldn't quite place who it had come from. You opted to instead direct your gaze at the raven-haired prince, raising your eyebrow at him with the slightest scrunch of your nose, as if silently prompting him to confirm.

He responded with a minuscule nod of his head, shifting his posture on his seat that would allow for you to use his thigh as your seat if you so pleased.

You had a choice to make, but as soon as the thought crossed your mind, you felt a harsh, banging pain in the back of your head. The faintest sound of a voice screaming from a faraway distance about how there was no choice. There never was.

Then an invisible force that tried to push you forward.

This visiting elven prince was getting on Loki's final nerve. With every word that came out of his mouth, the god's urge to have him mysteriously and conveniently disappear grew stronger. To perhaps turn him into a mouse and feed him to one of the wolves in the den.

He carefully considered what the consequences would have been for such an act, if he could even get away with it. What the procedure would be if a search and investigation would be launched and who would be suspected and questioned. It was that line of thinking that ultimately had him decide against such an act.

You would have been suspected of harming the prince. And Loki would be inconsolable if he were to become responsible for any harm that would come to you as a result of that suspicion.

He would just have to find another way to extricate the bothersome prince from your lives.

The god's thoughts were abruptly halted seeing the obvious signs of your head hurting once again, your face struggling to not contort into one of discomfort. Vehemently refusing to show any sign of weakness.

You and him were quite alike in that form of stubbornness.

Come to me, my love, he thought to himself. Let me help relieve your aches.

The irksome prince cleared his throat, the sound something that the god likened to a toddler stomping his foot and pulling a temper tantrum. "Princess Y/N, I would be more than capable and willing to help in alleviating the burden of your heavy load. If you would--"

"The burden of my heavy load?" you repeated, your voice dropping into a vaguely menacing tone, stunning Damien silent. "Prince Damien, for the sake of your constituents that are present in the room with us and only for their sake, I will hold my tongue."

The court members from Asgard and Alfheim alike looked to the prince whose cheeks reddened with humiliation, undoubtedly slapping himself internally over his poor choice of words. A chorus of stifled chuckles began to fill the war room before Odin cleared his throat loudly, calling everyone to attention once more.

"Now if you would remember what I said earlier at sunrise about familiarity, you would do well to keep in mind that the lesson rings true and extends to more than simply the monikers and titles by which you can refer to a person. It may extend to this situation as well."

Your expression visibly softened, causing a pit to form in Loki's stomach from even considering the possibility that this would take a turn and you would somehow state that the familiarity could be established in such a gesture. Perhaps even making light of his remark about heavy loads.

"However," you continued, the simple word already soothing the god's concerns. "Much as I appreciate the gesture and the…" You paused for a charged moment, a smirk tugging at your mouth. "…enthusiasm, there are two categorical truths in this exact moment. The first is that your level of familiarity with me, while still quite rudimentary, has improved to some degree."

Suddenly the pit was back in his stomach.

"The second…is that I have that familiarity with and have known for much longer…my own family." You stepped toward the side of the table seating the Asgardian royals, once again beginning to calm Loki's racing heart.

When you reached his side he wasted no time holding his hand out toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you steady as you perched yourself near effortlessly on his thigh. As if you were meant to be there all along.

"Comfortable, little Princess?" he teased in hushed tones, desperately straining to keep the tone light while thinking of the most unsettling images to quell his burning desires.

"Quite," you answered with unmoving lips, gathering your hair over your shoulder farther from his face. "Is this alright?"

More than alright, my darling. I don't want you to ever leave, he thought to himself, not trusting any word that could come out of him at the moment. He opted to answer you with a soft smile and a nod, his heart skipping a good few beats when you gave him the tiniest scrunch of your nose before facing everyone once more.

"I would like to know what the agenda of this meeting is." The upward lilt of your tone toward the end nearly made it seem like a question, but the god knew you better than that. This was a command, directed at the visiting prince.

You did not need to be present in the minutes prior to your and Sif's arrival to know that he was the reason this impromptu gathering was called. That this was simply his way of trying to reassert some dominance in the relationship he was attempting to establish with you.

"Erm, yes..." he stammered, clearing his throat before starting. "Well, Your Highness, I am quite aware how you value your time and schedule, so I shall do my best to keep this short."

Much like other parts of yours, you tapped into the back of Loki's hand in Morse, nearly failing to stifle a chuckle.

Behave, little Princess, he tapped back, desperately resisting the urge to press his cheek to your shoulder. Or Norns help him, kiss it.

"I would like to formally state my intention to court you. With the eventual objective of marriage."

You went so cold in his arms that if he didn't know any better, he would have thought you'd gone ill in that exact moment. The smallest tremor from you was enough to tell the god that you were quickly growing to be as furious as he was with this development.

This cannot be happening, you tapped with a shaky hand. If he could reject this pesky brat of a prince on your behalf he would have done so in a heartbeat. He didn't need to look upon your face to see the mix of fury and trepidation on your face.

Loki could feel it emanating off you in waves.

"I would completely understand if you feel overwhelmed by my declaration, Your Highness--"

"I'm not," you cut him off, poorly stifled chuckles once again filling the room. You cleared your throat, doing what you could to straighten your stance while perched on the God of Mischief's thigh. "Prince Damien, you have been a guest on Asgard for a full moon, and in that time I believe it would be correct of me to assume that you have heard the whispers about me."

Looks of intrigue colored the faces of every member of the royal court present, shifting their gazes between you and the god that had his arm around you. He for one was much too aware of what the denizens of this realm whispered when they believed that no one of consequence could hear them. What the optics of your relationship with your father's brother implied.

Surely you were not referring to those rumors? He'd spent an exorbitant amount of time and effort ensuring that your ears would never be tainted by those vile whispers, even if they were partly true. At least when it came to Loki's affections for you.

"And…which whispers would we be referring to, Your Highness?"

"The only one with any merit," you shot back almost immediately. "That I have, on more than one occasion, expressed my intent to marry for love. Not for power, alliance, or lineage. Now considering that I am more than capable of droning on until the sun sets and I have the slightest flair for the dramatic--" You turned to Loki for the slightest moment. "--made worse by my time spent with you…" You then turned your attention back to the visiting prince. "I will grant you a touch of mercy and not hold you all hostage with a rather lengthy answer."

"Here we go," both Thor and Sif muttered before shifting their position in their seat as if settling in to watch a play.

"To put it succinctly, I do not love you. I'm not even quite sure if I am inclined to say that I like you. This past moon I have been more than gracious in granting us both the time to acquaint ourselves with each other's characters and if I may be plain, I find that I am left wanting. There is much that I wish in not only a husband but a partner and I am yet to find those traits within you."

It was at this moment that the elven prince's colors had begun to show. Damien scoffed at your words. "I am the crown prince and Future King of Alfheim, what more could you possibly want in a husband?"

"And I am to be the Queen of Asgard and the Nine Realms." Your voice took on a tone that he'd not heard since the Summer Solstice, when you had Astrid removed from the palace. "The last time I consulted the records, Alfheim is among those realms. My list of wants may be exhaustive but I can say here and now that my requisite is fealty. I am in no need of a king that finds he needs to satiate his hunger with a harem of maidens at his disposal. I need a partner. And while I find myself too aged to believe in myths of fated souls and crimson threads, I must admit that would be, as the Midgardians call it, a nice cherry on top."

Oh darling, if only you knew that your fated soul currently held you in his unconditionally devoted hands, Loki thought to himself, struggling to hold back his smirk once he spotted the prince once more visibly seething from across the table. He once again had to hold back the urge to make any move that might create the image of him staking his claim on you.

He would continue to toe that fine line of occasionally indulging in the chimera of having you to call his while he fulfilled his unspoken vow of keeping you safe from those who wish to do you any harm. From those who intend to use you to further their agenda driven by power or greed.

Before you could continue and before the prince from Alfheim could utter a word, Odin broke the silence. "Ehem, I'm sure that what the princess here means is that...not enough time has passed for the two of you to adequately familiarize yourselves with one another. Perhaps extending your visit a few moons more would grant you both the opportunity to bridge this gap?"

You'd begun to subtly shake with your barely contained rage. If this meeting didn't conclude within the next few minutes there was no doubt within his mind that this would lead to a shouting match between you and the Allfather.

But before Loki could step in to find a way to mediate the course of the conversation, you spoke again.

"Or perhaps we could agree upon a different type of partnership. One that requires…significantly less physical contact. I own a good few businesses on Midgard, I would not object to you or another representative from your realm establishing your own entity that could franchise off of one of them. That way a unification between our realms can still be attained between our realms by less…antiquated means."

The god once again felt you relax in his hold, just as the other prince began to visibly seethe in his seat, the tips of his elvish ears beginning to turn pink. "And why would I want to have anything to do with Midgardian business?" he questioned, hissing his words through his teeth. "Those Earth folk are--"

"We will forward your gracious offer to the royal family for consideration, Princess," one of Damien's royal advisors spoke for him, putting an arm out in front of the prince whose attitude likened him more and more to a bratty toddler throwing a tantrum with each passing second. "We are most grateful for this opportunity, Your Highness."

"But I will still extend my stay on Asgard," the crown prince spoke again, his tone more whiney than resolute. "I wish to stay this course. I have said in the beginning of my visit that I no longer have the wandering heart that I once had in my youth. I have been reformed. And I will prove it to you."

"Very well." Loki did not need to see your face to know that you, too, had begun to speak through your teeth, the exchange becoming more insufferable with every word that Damien uttered. "If you do not wish to take the offer of a business merger, I do hope someone within the royal court of Alfheim will be willing to take that helm. As for your visit moving forward, we can discuss a schedule that will allow for you to stay your course while I can maintain my duties, for I refuse to be stagnated any further. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Princess."

"Well then…I believe we may adjourn this meeting. I'm quite sure we all have our own duties we must get back to and I'm quite sure Prince Loki here would be more than happy to be relieved of the burden of my heavy load."

The room burst into a fresh round of chuckles, some much louder than the others, as most of the attendees stood and took their leave from the Main Hall. A quick look around the table and Loki spotted his mother attempting to demurely cover her mouth with her hand to mask the wide smile, and Sif currently had her face tucked into the crook of Thor's neck, shoulders visibly shaking with her laughter.

He bounced his knee once, making you jump slightly on his thigh letting out a little hiccup that had you looking back and playfully squinting your eyes at him. "You are not, and you will never be a burden, little Princess. Remember that," he said just loud enough for you to hear before he lightly poked at your side.

It was all he could do not to pull you back to him when you stood from your seat on his thigh, smoothing your hands down the skirt of your dress. "Well, I shall get back to my planning for the Winter Solstice festival." You turned once more to face Damien, squaring your shoulders and straightening your back as if daring him to defy you. "We shall discuss that schedule tomorrow morning. After breakfast. And not a moment sooner."

"Y-Yes, Princess." From the corner of his eye, he could see his mother's head tilt to the side the moment the elven prince's jaw clenched once you strode out of the room.

Just as Damien was about to take his leave from the Main Hall, Thor's voice boomed and filled the room.

"Prince Damien, a word of advice. My daughter was not made to be impressed by titles and shows of sheer arrogance. She was raised to value people for their character, for their substance. You wish to be favored by her, then show her that you are someone worth favoring."

"Of--Of course, Your Excel--"

"Otherwise please do cease your continuous waste of all our time."

Thor's words took everyone aback, an evidently proud look coloring both Sif's and Frigga's expressions.

"I--I do not wish to waste anyone's time, Your Highness," Damien stammered, the legs of his chair scratching across the floor with a grating sound once he stood. "I will win the Princess' favor, I swear it."

Once he too had taken his leave, the remaining Asgardian royals also dispersed, and Loki followed the arrogant tone that could only belong to a certain visiting prince down the halls to see his character's truest form. He found him at a rather secluded corner of the palace, not too far from one of the hidden passageways.

He quickly cast a cloaking spell, ducking behind the hidden door before the elven prince began to pace around the corridor.

"It was humiliating, Father!" he whined into the Midgardian communications device that looked quite similar to the devices you would at times be seen fiddling with for more trivial amusements. "I will not bend the knee to this bratty entitled wench of a Princess. She enjoys trying to make a mockery of me as if she's so special and powerful and Oh Princess do you wish for me to drop to my knees and kiss the ground you walk on while you ask me to satiate my needs with only you for company when you would probably be the lousiest lay in all of the Nine Realms?"

Loki began to grow white-knuckled from how hard he clenched his fists. How dare this short-sighted infantile excuse of a man speak about you so disrespectfully? It would already set the god uneasy if this Damien were to talk about any woman in this light but to hear these vitriolic words spoken about you led him to strongly consider violence toward the visiting prince.

Another quick enchantment granted him the ability to hear the other end of the call.

"Son what have I said about grinning and bearing it for the sake of the Realm? All you have to do once she's agreed to marry you is ensure that you do not perform a Vow of Fidelity so that consequences won't come to you once you need to seek…better company at night. Your females here are growing more and more desperate for your return I might pay them a visit to calm them some."

"What pigs," the god muttered to himself. He needed to do something. Stop this courtship in its tracks before you had to be strong armed by Odin to marry into this repugnant family.

"You're welcome to them," Damien answered with a dark chuckle. "I'm running low on funds to keep these wenches quiet, make sure they don't run back and tell their beloved Princess about their visits to me. Norns know that if she ever finds out, she and her magic-wielding guard dog will thwart our family's dreams of my becoming Allfather on the spot."

"I shall send more, Damien, don't you worry. You only focus all your mental efforts on how you will secure this Y/N's hand. Then you marry her and come home. Where you can live your life as you decide, not how she or her family dictate. She may be in line for the throne to rule all Realms, but until she sits on said throne, she is just another woman. Granted she is afforded a few choice privileges that stop the moment she steps foot on Alfheim soil."

"Thank you, Father. I'll marry her and rip her away from that overprotective oaf of a father of hers. And that incestuous prince. Then when she's stripped of her defenses all she will be is a vessel to bear my children. Then our family shall rule the Realms and everyone in the Realms that looked down upon us will watch helplessly as their beloved Princess becomes nothing more than a Royal Childbearer."

Loki's blood ran cold. This was the plan? He'd known the moment he laid eyes on this Damien that something wasn't quite right with him, but to have targeted you simply for your title and isolate you from everyone that loved you and that you loved in turn? From your friends? Your family?

From him?

No. He would not stand for this. There had to be another way. He would find another way.

He would move the Realms themselves if it meant keeping you safe from those that wished you even a fraction of the misery that this elven bastard of a prince planned to put you through.

The god moved through the passageways as quickly as his feet could carry him, nearly breaking into a run until he reached the exit that led straight into his mother's workroom. He'd forgotten his manners and simply barged through the threshold, eyes wide and murderous as he caught his breath.

"Loki! You nearly gave me enough of a fright to send me to the Healers. What has gotten into you, my boy?"

"We have a problem."

A/N: *peeks from around the corner* Well hi there…it's been a while since the last episode from this series…like about 7 months give or take 🥴🥴 When I tell you my writer brain just decided to go wheeeeee…I barely even know what I'm working on these days 🤣

Anyways, RTC is back and I'm doing my best to plan out the last 3 chapters of Season 1 and then the series will officially go on a break to plan for Season 2 because I gotta be honest I have little to no padding for the first half where I intend to cover the events of the betrothal 😅

But the plot (I hope) is plotting and now y'all can see what the actual driving force behind Loki's surrender was 🥺 And we hate Damien and his father in this household because seriously?? Writing that conversation gave me the ick and if you knew the type of "comedian" I had to watch just to get that vibe down like I need to cleanse my soul after 😩

everything taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #relinquish the crown #muddyorbs writes

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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The Sticking Point Masterlist

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU, Loki)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

#loki #regency au #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #thor #avengers #au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: weekends aren't for rest, they're for being sick and anxious so Monday will be a treat.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

As you enter, you try your best not to make too much noise. You set the bags down lightly and ease the inner door shut. You can hear your dad and the soft sound of puzzle pieces meeting the table.

“Ya know, thirty years almost, but I can see her just like yesterday,” he says.

Your heart clutches. You never heard him talk about your mom. When you were a kid and didn’t know better, he just ignored all your questions about her. When you got older, you stopped asking. You figured it’s easier for both of you to pretend she never was.

“I’m sorry, hon,” Leslie comforts, “you know, in my line of work, I’ve seen it over and over. It’s a wound you can’t heal.”

“Oh yeah,” he grits, “yeah, I’d say…”

You swallow and lean back on your foot, crinkling the bags behind you. You cringe as you hear sudden movement. You turn and work to slip off the white loafers. You pretend like you weren’t listening as Leslie’s shadow looms from the archway.

“You’re home,” she proclaims, “we didn’t think you’d be so early.”

“Me either,” you say as you face her.

Her lashes flick and her mouth opens, “oh my, you look so good! Weren’t you working today?”

“Uh, did some work,” you lie, “I got a few hours off so I… did some running around.”

“Oh, gosh, come on, you have to show your dad,” she takes you by the wrist and tugs you around, “Charles, look at your girl.”

She presents you with her hands on your shoulders. You can’t even look at your dad as the couch creaks and he grunts at your appearance. He snorts and pushes another piece into the puzzle.

“What am I looking at?” He sneers.

“Charles, don’t be like that. Look at her hair, and this dress,” she touches your hips, “must be a nice job, huh?”

“It’s alright,” you shimmy out of her grasp, “I just… needed something more presentable–”

“Something shorter,” your father scoffs, “so when she’s bending to tidy the floors you can see right up.”

“Charles, that’s gross,” Leslie reprimands.

“Truth can be like that,” he snickers, “think some man’s buying her fancy clothes so she can sweep? We both know how she pays for you.”

“No… it’s not…” you shrug and give up, “I’m gonna put my stuff away and start dinner. If you want, you can head off early too.”

“Oh, I don’t mind sticking around,” Leslie says as she once more sits beside your dad, “let me know if you need any help with dinner. Don’t wanna get anything on that nice little dress.”

You nod and hesitate. You can’t tell what she means by that. For as much as she can call out your father, she often speaks with an edge of her own. Just like the cigarettes, she must assume his insults are your fault.

You leave the room and grab the bags. You carry them up the stairs to your room. You shut the door and sit on the end of the bed. You bend and cradle your head, trying to set it straight after the dizzying day.

👠

The bus provides a momentary break from your hostile world. There is no safe place for you. Home is barely that and work is… confusing. Your only escape is to focus on your tasks and get through them. Get through Mr. Laufeyson’s list then come home and the chores left untouched.

Your look at the time on your phone and black the screen. You get a glimpse of your reflection off the glass as you do. You didn't do too bad with the makeup. It looks okay. You tried not to use too much as you recalled Eliana's instructions.

You shake off your doubts and airy feeling around your legs. You're not use to the skirt or the pretty fabrics. You feel overdressed and out-of-place, but the latter is so new to you.

Through the gate and along the edge of the drive, you hear your name flutter in the air. You stop short as you see Frigga strolling along the hedges, caressing the petals of a rose. She draws away and strides towards you, an ivory skirt paired with a golden brown blouse and nude heels.

“You do start early, don’t you?” She approaches and takes your hand, “come, let’s have tea.”

“Oh, uh, I…” you let her tug you along the walkway towards the front door, “the carpenter is coming today–”

“Ah yes, Loki mentioned you were working on restoring the gazebo. That’s lovely. We used to have tea there, me and… his wife. She was a laugh.”

“Mm,” you hum. Whoever this woman was, she must’ve been very special. You imagine a beautiful woman with silky hair and long legs like Frigga. She must’ve fit right in.

“I suppose if it was meant to be, it would be. I only hope my son can find happiness again,” she squeezes your hand before she lets you go.

She opens the door and waves you in ahead of her. You slip out of your flats much easier than your usual lace-up sneakers. She steps out of her heels and sighs.

“That’s his problem, you know? He’s lonely but too proud to admit it,” she sidles around you and leads you down to the kitchen. You follow and watch as she goes to the counter and pours from the waiting teapot. “Though I haven’t seen him today. I suppose he’s sleeping in, it is the weekend.”

You tilt your head but don’t comment. For as long as you’ve worked for him, not very long at all, he’s never slept past your arrival. Well, not so far as you know.

“I do love this skirt,” she comes back around the counter and touches the tweed, “wonderful pairing,” she touches the blouse with the petal shaped cutouts around the high-collar, “you’re learning.”

“Um, yeah, all the clothes are so pretty,” you say.

“Please, have your tea. I’m sure you have time before the carpenter,” she urges.

“Right, er, I’ll just take my bag upstairs first,” you say, “out of the way.”

“Sure,” she accepts with a kind smile, “how about I take this out to the patio, we can enjoy the sun?”

“Alright,” you agree and hike up your bag, “thank you.”

You quickly flit off and head upstairs. You weren’t expecting her to be there. You just hadn’t thought of it. You only dreaded facing your unbendable boss and his persistent stare.

You go into the library and tuck your bag under the writing desk. You double check the schedule in your phone; Ronan, 10. You have an hour before he arrives.

Your mind is already on the gazebo as you scurry back into the hall. As you shut the door gently, you hear a groan. You peer down towards the unusual noise and blink at the slightly ajar door. The main bedroom. Mr. Laufeyson’s. It rises again before a drawn out exhale, his timbre rumbling low.

You quickly set back to your path and flee downstairs. Maybe he’s talking in his sleep, or more likely, stretching out a few kinks. Your curiosity quickly dissipates as you pass through the dining room and out into the patio.

Frigga sits with large pointed sunglasses over her eyes. She tilts her face up to the sunlight as you sit before the other cup of tea. You pull it close and look out at the yard. A streak of green catches your gaze.

You watch the hummingbird hover over fuchsia petals. You stare dreamily, lulled by the peace of the moment as Frigga merely sips and basks. This isn’t so bad. The bird zips between flowers before disappearing behind a tree. In his stead, the skittish chipmunk scrambles along the railing of the patio. You smile at his fluffy tail.

“I’ll be off tomorrow,” Frigga states, “my husband will be expecting me. Oh, but I’ll miss you, darling.”

“Is it very far?” You wonder.

“Four or five hours,” she answers, “not very far but enough. It’s so lovely up where we are. I wish you could see. Perhaps one day. When things are better.”

Before you can answer, there’s a subtle click behind you.

“Morning,” Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is unleashed onto the scene as the patio door swings inward, “mother,” he pauses before he enunciates your name, “beautiful day out.”

Your shoulders stiffen and nearly touch your ears as you sit straight. He pulls out the chair at your other elbow and sets down another teacup with a clink. He sits and smooths back his dark hair, tucking the spiralled ends behind his ears.

“Late morning,” his mother remarks, “any tea left?”

“Some, shall I–”

He puts his hands flat, moving to stand but she shoos him as she’s quicker to rise, “I’ll get it myself. And you darling,” she dips her chin in your direction, “more?”

“Oh, no thanks, I’m still… working on mine. Thank you, Frigga,” you say, mindful of each syllable.

She leaves and the door clicks shut behind her. You stare at the brim of your cup, turning it slowly between your hands as Laufeyson raises his own to his lips. He drinks carefully before putting it down again.

He’s quiet. He shifts and plants an elbow on the table. He turns his attention to the yard and watches. You dare to look up as well, the chipmunk poking his head out from the bush where he hides. He ran away at Mr. Laufeyson’s arrival.

“Cute little fellow,” he remarks as he faces you again. You quickly lower your eyes.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Mmm,” he drones and taps his fingers on the porcelain teacup, “you… that’s a nice shirt.”

“Thanks,” you lift your cup and drain most of it, gulping painfully as you put it back down, “I should go start. Ronan will be here shortly–”

“The carpenter?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson, I have him penned in–” You explain.

“And? He is a carpenter, he knows what he’s doing. I doubt he needs you watching over his shoulder.”

“I know, uh, but I should be there to let him in,” you slide your cup off the table.

“You’re not even done your tea.”

“I’ll finish on my way in–”

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused and you wince.

“What?”

“You’re running away? Why?” He challenges.

“I’m not, I– I have work to do.”

“Work I give you. I’m your boss, you may sit and finish. I’ll permit it.”

You falter and set the cup on the table. You lower yourself back to the seat and fold your hands. You look at your lap and push your shoulders back. He is back to his haughty demands, you find that part of him easier to handle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, I wasn't running away.”

He scoffs thinly and his nostrils flare as he stares off at the hedges that edge the patio, “I wonder why you can be so quick to flee me when you sat and let my brother feel you up.”

“Huh?” You blanch, stuck by the accusation. “Mr. Laufeyson, I–”

“I know him well and I’m not as blind as my mother. I saw it. You didn’t say a word. You just let him do it,” he clucks, “why?”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. You nearly choke, the acidic flavour of the tea drying on your tongue. Was it that bad? You tried not to think about it, to let it affect you, even as the memories flashed in your head, you just tried not to feel anything about it.

“I didn’t… well… he’s your brother, Mr. Laufeyson, I didn’t want to assume… to offend–” you stammer.

“So you let him do what he wants?” He snarlss as he turns his sights on you, a brow arch tritely. “You do not work for him, you work for me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do,” you sputter, confused by his anger. “I tried to…”

Your voice trails off. No, you didn’t try. You were too afraid too. He’s right, you let Thor keep touching you and you didn’t say anything, you didn’t move, you just froze up.

“It makes me wonder,” he cups his chin, leaning on his elbow, “how far would you let him get, hm?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you whimper, “I’m sorry–”

“Did you like how he touched you?”

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, no, of course not,” you plead.

“You do not want him to touch you?” He prompts.

“No, I… didn’t know how to say—”

“Shhh,” he hushes you, lifting his chin from his hand and pressing his finger to his lips. He pulls his hand away to point at you, “I’ve a better question…” He reaches towards you and you flinch. You quiver as he traces the cutout along the top of your blouse, “how far would you let me go?”

You squirm as he hooks his finger inside the teardrop window in the fabric. His fingertip brushes you as he gives a slight tug, looming closer as he draws you towards him. He smirks as you stare dumbfounded. What is he doing?

“My brother will not touch you again,” his voice is low and rocky, “I will make sure of it.” He tickles you slightly and rescinds his hand, “and you will make sure to remember who you belong to.”

He sits back and hooks his fingers in the handle of the porcelain mug. As if on cue, the french doors open behind you and Frigga trills as she emerges, “oh, just enough tea,” she announces, “I added a dash of honey this time.”

She places the cup by her empty chair but does not sit. She twirls and paces around the patio, going to the flower boxes along the rail. She leans in to examine them.

“Perhaps the carpenter could have a look here, it’s crooked,” she declares. “And I dare say the guest room has a loose floorboard right near the bed.”

“Mm, perhaps, mother,” Laufeyson drawls as he once more raises his cup, his eyes stuck on you, “my house manager will be sure to ask, won’t she?”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you wisp out through your constricted throat, barely registering his command.

You can only hear his previous words echoing, over and over; remember who you belong to. Belong to… No, you only work for him.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #avengers #mcu #marvel #thor

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springdandelixn · 1 year

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The Great Escape

Summary: Your chance of freedom diminishes as the prince reminds you of your place.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, magic bondage, outdoor sex, humiliation, physical violence.

Characters: Dark!Loki x Reader

A/N: This fic is part of the Secret Santa Collection by @fictive-sl0th. As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and reblogs will be amazing. I hope you guys enjoy! 💚

Adrenaline courses through your veins as you run as fast as you could down the path to the docks, your sack of meager belongings bouncing at your side. You see the longboat to Vanir just up ahead, hearing the boatman calling for final passengers and a smile of relief plays on your lips, almost tasting the freedom that you’ve been yearning for since meeting the prince.

You couldn’t miss the window of opportunity presented to you when Tove pulled you to dance with her and Brigit. You made it a point to squeeze between the towering forms of the men and the swaying bodies of the women, moving along to the music to put on a show of enjoyment and basking in the sounds of the lute and trumpets booming in the great hall as the celebration reached its peak.

As soon as you saw Loki’s attention averted toward Lord Fandral, you immediately made to escape the festivity; stalking silently across the halls so as to not get caught by any servant or guard that is loyal to the prince. You grabbed your sack by the gates and wasted no second running away from the palace.

You grunt as your foot gets caught in the muddy path. You pull yourself free but your slippers get stuck into the earth. Still, you pay them no mind, leaving them behind as you continue your sprint toward the boat.

The docks finally come to view and you can’t help the tears that spring from your eyes as you feel the clutches of Loki slip from your mind but you gasp all of a sudden and stop in your tracks when you feel your throat tighten. Your knees buckle and you collapse to the ground, your hand reaching for your neck as the pressure around it intensifies, grabbing on the chain of the necklace around your throat.

“And just where do you think you’re going, Little Mouse?” A chill fills your bones when you hear the baritone of Loki’s voice.

“Lo—” You try to speak but the grip around your neck tightens, choking you while the emerald stone hanging on the necklace glows brightly against your skin.

The breath is knocked out of you when you’re kicked at your side, rolling unto your back, fear creeping up your spine when you see Loki’s face above yours, angry and menacing. You gasp for air when the tension around your throat is lifted but Loki drops his foot over your chest, squirming against the dirt path as he pins you to the ground.

“I look away for one second and I find you here, trying to flee.” He sneers and you yelp when he presses down his boot harder.

“Please, Loki—”

“I dress you in lavish clothes and adorn you in the finest jewelry. I give you the comforts of the palace and this is how you repay me?!” He snarls, his foot lifting from your chest but it is no reprieve as he kicks your side once more.

Your hands reach down to soothe the searing pain in your ribs but you’re not given that chance when Loki drops to his knees, flipping you back on your stomach and clamping his fingers around the back of your neck, choking once again when he pushes you further into the dirt.

You struggle in turning your head to the side, digging your fingers into the soil as you try to push yourself off the ground, hoping you’d push him off just the same. But your strength is no match with the god, your attempts proving futile as he remains atop you, his weight pressing down on you.

Panic surges through your veins when you feel his hand pulling at the skirts of your dress, the same one he’s given you along with the necklace before the feast, the fabric bunching up at your waist and you try to kick him away, legs flailing. You only stop when he slaps your thigh harshly, tugging at your small clothes roughly and looking at the flimsy fabric when he throws it at the side of your head.

“Loki—”

“You have no respect!” He snarls and you whimper when his hand presses against your cunt, fingers deftly moving to circle around your bud. “You have lost the privilege to say my name!” A cry is pulled from your lips when he dips two fingers into your slit, hating yourself for how your body readily responds to his touch, the slick gathering at the apex of your thighs.

You feel his impatience as he thrusts his fingers deeper, faster, a reluctant moan slipping from your lips when he spreads them apart, stretching you wide. You try to push him off once more but he doesn’t move, only stopping any further attempts when he squeezes the sides of our neck hard.

“Stop trying to find a way out of this.” Loki snarls, leaving you hollow when he pulls out his fingers, smearing your wetness on the inside of your thigh. Another wave of fear washes over you when you hear him fumbling with his pants from behind.

“My prince—please,” You beg and try to reach behind you, to stop him from his brutality, but your words fall on deaf ears and your hands desist to move, wrists pinned into the dirt by his Seiðr and you’re left at his mercy, free for him to use you as he pleases.

Your tears spring free from your eyes as you whimper and continue to implore for his compassion, to release you from his wrath. His hand leaves your neck all the same and he goes to grab you by the hips, pulling you flush against his pelvis and feeling his cock brush threateningly against your cunt.

He impales you all at once, your walls hugging him tightly as he sits inside completely. You mumble your curses against the ground, your tears staining your face and mixing in with the dirt. You feel his clothed chest press against your back, his hot breath fanning over your skin and you grunt as he snaps his hips hard, jolting your body forward and crying when your arms are pulled from your invisible restraints.

“You may have forgotten who owns you, Little Mouse, but your body definitely remembers.” You feel his smirk against your skin, Loki pulling his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock in your cunt before thrusting back harshly, a cry of pain retching from your throat as he begins to fuck you at a brutal pace.

Your fingers curl against the dirt, your body rigid as you take on his wicked punishment. You keep your eyes forward, orbs locked onto the longboat and you feel all hope leave you when it sails away, your only chance of freedom slipping from your grasp.

You close your eyes. You’re not there. You’re on the boat, floating freely toward another land where Loki cannot find you. But such thoughts diminish and your attempt to remove your spirit from his clutches proves fruitless as the sound of slapping skin and his grunts invade your senses, tying you down completely to your reality.

Your walls flutter around his cock and you moan when he slides in deeper, the tip repeatedly ramming against the bundle of nerves hidden within. You’re panting and so is he, his hands pressing your pelvis down onto the ground, keeping your arse high for him and lifting his pelvis only to adjust his position and impaling you anew, feeling him fully once more as he takes everything from you.

His nails dig into your skin, the pain radiating throughout your body and you gasp when you feel the sudden pull at the pit of your stomach. You try to stop it, to not give him the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure despite his roughness, something you could have control over. But his fingers find your sacred bud once more, rubbing it in accord with his thrusts.

“You’re mine, Little Mouse.” He growls as he bends over you once again, his raven hair curtaining around yours and you cry when he adds pressure to the nub.

The dam within you breaks and a silent scream is pulled from your lips, Loki following suit, his groans of pleasure bouncing off the bushes and the trees as his essence mixes with yours. You slump unto the ground, tears falling afresh, and you whimper when he rolls his pelvis against your thighs, keeping himself snug inside.

“You are nothing without me.” He whispers when he leans down once more, his voice licking against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see his emeralds piercing through your soul.

“Everything that you are is mine.” He says menacingly, trepidation filling your heart as he presses a kiss on your dirtied cheek, sealing your fate with finality.

The merriment in the banquet hall fills your ears as you follow Loki from behind. The necklace he’s given you has now turned into a metal collar around your neck, a long chain shackled at the middle with the end held tightly in Loki’s grasp.

You try to steer away from the direction of the Yule celebration, not wanting to have people witness your state of disarray. But Loki tugs on the chain harshly, having you bump against him and you bow your head, casting your eyes to the ground as you follow him with reluctance back into the hall.

The silence that casts throughout the crowd is deafening and the gasps coming from the lips of the witnesses bare down on you, making you want to disappear even more. Your clothes are a wreck, the fabric ripped from your struggles with Loki on the ground. Dirt and mud cling to your skin, and you don’t doubt that your binds are the most prominent in their eyes.

There is no evidence left on Loki’s form, using his magic to cleanse him from his brutality and presenting himself as the regal prince the Asgardians know him to be. He brings you with him to the high table, the prince reclaiming his seat beside his brother, and all at once the merriment resumes, laughter and music echoing in the great hall.

“You really know how to put on a spectacle, brother.” The king, Thor, booms at Loki’s side. You grunt when he tugs you closer, Loki’s arm snaking around your waist to have you sit at the arm of his chair.

You don’t look up but you sense the king’s lingering gaze on your dirtied form and you don’t doubt that he’s known of his brother’s lecherous deeds toward you since the beginning.

“I am simply reminding the little mouse of her place.” Loki intones and you look up when he grabs your chin and tilts your head back, forcing you to meet his emerald eyes. “Isn’t that right, pet?” You see the threat in them and you acquiesce to his words.

“Yes, my prince.”

The words given to me were Christmas Gala, necklace and Asgard!Loki. I used Yule instead of gala since I wasn’t sure if gala is used in the world of Asgard. And this is dedicated to @fictive-sl0th. I know it’s not your usual Christmas fic but I hope you enjoyed!

#loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #dark loki #dark!loki #dark fic #the great escape #secret santa fic #coconut bun stories

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silver-tongued-bby · 6 months

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The Fall - Chapter II

Pairing: Manipulative!Dom!Loki x Sub!fem!Reader

This work is set in an AU.

Chapter I here.

Summary: Against your basic human instincts, you choose to go on that date.

Author’s note: thank you so much for the love on chapter 1!! I was really hesitant to post this fic- I’m so thankful people are liking it so far! I am in no way advocating for this kind of dynamic, it can get very toxic very fast. Stay safe out there folks 🖤

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated 🖤🖤🖤

This is work of fiction is 18+!!!!, and contains graphic descriptions of rough sex, manipulation, sadism, masochism, a sketchy situation in a car, oral sex (m receiving), shoe stuff, a dom/sub dynamic, a broken reader. Please do not interact if you are a minor or are sensitive towards any of the themes mentioned above.

~~~

You stood outside your apartment. It was cold out, though your palms were sweating.

You heard his car before you saw it, the sleek black vehicle pulling up just ahead of you. Walking over to the passenger side you got in, the butterflies in your stomach making you nauseous.

“Hi,” you turned, giving him a little smile.

His glance moved up from your legs to your face, a hint of a smirk gracing his lips. “Shall we?”

Nodding, you smoothed your hands on your skirt.

“Nervous?” His tone held an edge of amusement as he pulled away from the curb.

“A little.” You pressed your thighs together, a low throb between your legs at his comment.

“I’m flattered.” He gave you a smile. You couldn’t help but smile back, the warmth of it infectious.

You felt some of the nerves dissipate. Though there was a tug within your chest as he drove on, something deep within you urging you to flee.

“I suppose it doesn’t help that you don’t know my name,” he chuckled, running a hand through his dark waves almost bashfully.

You kept your eyes on him, admiring the length and strength of his fingers as they returned to the wheel.

“It’s Loki,” he grinned, catching your eye as he stopped at a red light.

You smiled. “Hi, Loki.”

He chuckled. “Hello to you too.”

~~~

You sat in the chair before you, the low light of the candle the only thing illuminating the dark corner you’d been seated in. He slid into his seat across from you, eyes glittering in the low light, watching you take in your surroundings.

The restaurant he’d taken you to was nice - shockingly so. The dark lighting provided an intimate yet warm space, the furnishings well made and clearly expensive.

“I didn’t know this existed,” you said with a smile, looking down at the set menu, prices nowhere to be seen.

He smiled back, his posture relaxed against the chair, long arm laid out against the rest, the glint of a silver cufflink peeking out from behind his suit’s sleeve. His brilliant eyes didn’t leave you. Interested yet amused, he looked as if he were seeing all of you, all at once. All the insecurities, the self-doubt, the constant stress of acting the part of who you thought you should be. You squirmed a little, feeling exposed, chastising yourself for the prickle of heat in your cheeks.

“The best spots are always those off the beaten path,” he smirked, nodding at the server as they filled your glasses with wine.

“How did you find this place?” You asked, taking a sip from your glass, the smooth, deep red delicious.

“I work in the industry,” he leant closer, resting an elbow on the table. “Between you and me it’s the only perk of the job.” He gave you a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back, everything about him was so magnetic. You’d never been on a date like this before, one where you didn’t want to die of boredom. “And what do you do in the industry?”

His eyes shone, “what do you think I do?”

You pursed your lips in thought. “Food critic?”

He let out a laugh at that. “Apologies. I suppose you could say that, though you’d be hard pressed to find a column of mine in Sunday’s paper.”

You took another sip of wine, thinking. “You’re a chef.”

He smiled, taking a sip of water. “I am.”

You shook your head. “Honestly? Wouldn’t have guessed,” your eyes fell to his fingers, noticing the calluses and a faint scar here and there. “Though the 1 AM grocery store visits make a lot more sense.”

He chuckled. “Where else am I supposed to gather the supplies to maintain my steady diet of instant noodles and microwaveable mush?” He saw your expression and smiled guiltily. “Hard to cook for yourself after a day of doing it for other people.”

You smiled, the knots in your stomach gone. You’d never met someone so easy to talk to, so willing to listen and to ask about you. He was smart, almost intimidatingly so, able to keep up with you even as you described the intricacies of your work. The conversation flowed so easily you quickly found yourself divulging things that would’ve been off-limits for anyone else. But it felt good to open up, to have his focus on you alone. You wanted him to see you, the real you, all that you’d kept hidden away for so long. You found it flowing out with your words.

It felt like minutes, not hours, as you spoke throughout the meal, the server dropping a delicate plate of small desserts off at your table along with some coffee. When he’d asked if you wanted to come back to his you hoped you hid the excitement brimming within you.

And soon you were walking back to his car, slipping in to the black leather as he peeled off back towards you came.

~~~

“Do you do this often?”

You turned to him, his expression unreadable, gaze fixed on the road. “Do what?” You asked, picking at the hem of your skirt.

“Go places with strange men.”

You swallowed, your cheeks hot. “No.”

“Not very wise, is it?” He turned off the main road. You ignored the racing of your heart as you entered a neighbourhood unfamiliar to you, the passing houses progressively less well-kept.

You chewed your lower lip, unsure of what to say. The change in him in the 5 minutes that had passed since you’d departed the restaurant had your heart racing.

“But that’s part of the thrill, isn’t it?” The corner of his mouth twisted upwards. “I could have a wife for all you know.”

Your eyes fell to the glint of the silver ring on his index finger on the steering wheel, your heart in your throat. You pressed your thighs together, a poor attempt to quell your excitement. Christ. What is wrong with you?

He chuckled, turning another corner before pulling over, a mailbox in front of a pathway seemingly leading to a forest.

You swallowed as if it’d help you find your voice. “Do you?” You turned, watching the blue-green eyes focus on the rearview mirror as he reversed into the spot.

He killed the engine, turning to look at you with a smirk. “Does it matter?”

You licked your lips. “Please.”

His eyes glinted as they searched your own. He watched you, those eyes easily seeing your fear, and beyond it. “Never married. Unattached.” He winked then slipped out of the car, closing the door behind him as he started up a path.

You scrambled to follow, the walkway softly illuminated as it wound through the darkened trees.

~~~

Your eyes widened as soon as you crossed the threshold, the living room beyond the entrance warm and welcoming. The floors were a deep mahogany, accented by curved wooden walls with new age sculptures and soft, expensive-looking furniture. The kitchen lay just beyond, the large black marble island looking as elegant as it did practical.

He’d tossed his keys into the bowl at the front, slipping off his jacket before rolling up his sleeves. He was watching you with a smirk, his hands in his pockets as you took it all in.

“This place is,” you trailed off, turning so you could get a look at it all. “Wow.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, coming forward to take the jacket from your shoulders. You shivered as his finger grazed your skin.

“Something to drink.” It was more of a statement than a question. He hung your coat by his before making his way to the kitchen, pulling a bottle of wine from a cupboard.

You followed him, resting your elbows on the black marble of the kitchen island as you watched.

He pulled a corkscrew from a drawer, his forearms tensing as he expertly cut the seal before screwing in the device and pulling out the cork. He poured you a glass, then one for himself, before guiding you over to the couch. You sat as he settled in a chair across from you, his eyes glinting in the warm light.

You chewed your lip, shifting on the couch. You couldn’t shake the feeling that if an audience were watching they’d be throwing popcorn at the screen, shouting at you to get your things and go. Everyone knew what happened to the girl who trusted a little too much, who took the wrong path. But that wasn’t you. You were always so careful, almost to a fault. This is just an act of rebellion, you told yourself. Why not be imperfect this one fucking time?

“You can leave if you’d like,” your eyes met his as his voice cut through your thoughts.

“I don’t want to leave,” you spoke, your voice soft, almost apologetic. As if he’d chastised you.

His expression was unreadable, glimmering eyes taking you in. “I don’t want you to feel trapped here. If you’d like to go at any point,” he gave a lazy gesture with his hand, long fingers curved upwards, “say the word.”

You swallowed, nodding.

“You seem like a smart girl,” he spoke, a rasp to his voice. “I’m sure a lot of people would say so, wouldn’t they?”

Your gaze fell to your hands, “they would. But not a lot of people really know me.”

He chuckled. “You aren’t some mystery to unravel, darling. I saw right through you the moment we met.”

You pursed your lips. “I wasn’t hiding myself when I met you.”

“You weren’t,” he smiled, tilting his head in acknowledgement as he leant back in his chair. “But this,” he gestured to you, “and the little getup you had on the next night when you begged for my attention, is that you hiding?”

You chewed your lip.

“Don’t be so coy. You like my eyes on you, don’t you?”

You squirmed, swallowing. “I do.”

“Finally!” He grinned as he saw you flinch with his exclamation, “she offers up some truth.” His gaze skimmed down your bare legs. “Now I can be honest with you. What I’m looking for- it isn’t conventional. Really, it’s anything but,” he smirked as if he’d told a joke.

“I’ve been with partners, long term and short term. I’ve enjoyed the game in the chase. But I’ve had my fill,” he’d tilted his head to the side as he spoke, those blue-green eyes piercing. “I want something else. Something more. I want someone who won’t hesitate to break themselves for me,” he smirked. “Someone who wants to break for me. Who will let me tear them apart and rebuild them into exactly what I want. As many times as I want,” he took a sip of wine, assessing your gaze. “Does that put you off?”

You were captivated as you gently shook your head no.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “That does baffle me.”

You tilted your head in question.

“You know nothing of my life, and very little of my tastes. There is much wickedness in this world, little girl.” His grin was near criminal, his eyes alit with excitement. ”And yet you seem eager to toy with it,” he tilted his head. He was daring you to run.

You swallowed hard. “Is that wrong?”

He swirled the wine in his glass, studying it. “Not to me,” the look he gave you made your breath catch in your throat. You felt pinned to the very spot by the heat in his gaze. “I’m more interested in seeing just how far you’ll go.”

Another challenge, you thought, heart beating fast as you twisted the stem of the wine glass between your fingertips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he nodded, gesturing towards you lazily.

“That first night at the grocery store,” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Why’d you stop at the end of the aisle?”

“Honestly?”

You nodded, sitting forward.

“I couldn��t recall if I had oyster crackers at home or not.” He fixed you with a passive shrug, the low light glinting off his eyes.

You ignored the heat in your cheeks.

He set his wine down on the table beside him. “Oh pet,” his voice was sickly sweet with condescension, “come here,” long fingers gesturing to you.

You shakily stood, stepping over to the armchair before his grip found your wrist and brought you between his legs, guiding you to sit on his knee. His thumb smoothed against your cheek, his eyes falling to the low cut of your blouse briefly, a hand coming to support your lower back.

Your breath caught in your throat as he brought you closer, blue-green gaze taking you in, his thumb tracing downwards, hooking under your chin to angle your lips closer to his.

“Is this alright?” He spoke, voice low, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed against yours with the words.

You swallowed. “Yes,” you mumbled, lost in him already.

“Do tell me if things ever aren’t alright, or if you want to stop,” his lips brushed against yours again, forcing a little gasp from you. “I take no pleasure in non-consent.” Another brush of his lips had you melting against him. He pulled back suddenly, your eyes opening to the low light. “I need you to answer me pet.”

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay. I will.” Your voice caught in your throat.

His lips curved in the slightest as he drew closer once again. “Good girl.”

Before you could process anything else he was kissing you- his fingers light against your jaw, his other hand grasping your hip, guiding you to straddle him. Your head spun as you settled over his lap, feeling the warmth of muscle beneath his thin shirt.

He guided you to roll your hips against him, and you gasped, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he did it again and again. You were panting as he licked into your mouth, his clever tongue making you tighten your hold on him. He held you tighter, closer to him, forcing a whimper from your throat.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against your own as you kept moving, the heat between your legs almost unbearable. He hummed lightly, his hand falling to grip your ass as the other traced the skin of your thigh.

Your breath caught as you felt how big he was, the heat of him seeping through his jeans. “I don’t usually,” you trailed off, panting as he bent to nip at your throat, sucking your skin harshly before smoothing over it with his tongue. You moaned, wishing you didn’t have so many fucking clothes on. “I don’t do stuff like this,” you breathed, lips seeking his for another deep kiss.

He chuckled. “Of course you don’t, darling.” He bent to kiss just beneath your earlobe, his tongue coming to trace the shell of your ear as you whined, a tremble in your grip. “But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

You nodded, panting, not even really hearing his words. You melted further into him, lost in this stranger as his long fingers tilted your head upwards to capture your lips once more. His hand slid up from your thighs, slowly tracing up your skirt, his calloused hands warm against you. He splayed his hand out, pinky and ring finger finding the inside of your thigh, coming up slowly as he kissed you more. You gasped when you felt his fingertips graze against the seam of your panties, knowing the wetness he felt.

He pulled back with a smirk, gazing up at you. “When was the last time you touched yourself?”

You swallowed, pressing yourself further against him. “T-today,” you wet your dry lips. “This morning.”

He tsked, his fingertips pushing up the hem of your tight skirt slowly. “So wet again already?” His eyes flickered down to the black lace of your panties as they came into view with your slow movements. “You’re dripping. All for me?” You nodded, fingers pressing against his lower abdomen, the heat that seeped through the thin cotton of his shirt addictive.

“And how did you get yourself off this morning, pet? Did you watch something vile as you played with your little cunt?” You shook your head. Your skirt was pushed up around your waist now, his fingertips sliding under the lace of your panties as they pressed into the flesh of your ass.

He grinned sinfully. “Ah so your thoughts were of me. Naughty thing,” his gaze flickered to your lips, “what did you think of?”

You opened your mouth but closed it, the heat returning to your cheeks.

You moaned as his fingers dug harshly into the flesh he’d been so tender with a moment ago. “Answer me.”

“You-“ you swallowed, “you being rough with me,” you gasped as he smoothed the skin of your ass. “S-slapping me and choking me,” you swallowed, “and spitting in my mouth as you, fuck,” you shivered as his other hand traced up your spine, his eyes dark as they watched you. “As you used me to get off.” You finished, voice hoarse as you tilted your hips back as your cunt pressed against his lap.

“My, my,” he chuckled, spreading his legs a little wider. “Did you come up with that all by yourself?”

Your brows furrowed as he guided you off of him, finding yourself on shaky legs, unsure of what to say. “Get down on your knees.” He commanded, as you sank down, the wood underneath them surprisingly warm.

You looked up, your eyes falling to the thick outline within his trousers. He hooked his fingertips under your chin, guiding your gaze upwards, past his slightly exposed chest, the smirk he wore near criminal. His thumb pressed against your lips, and you opened, sucking on it eagerly as you held his gaze. He chuckled again. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Spit gathered on your lips as he rubbed his wet thumb against them. “Open,” he called, and you did as you were told, tongue meeting the two fingers he pressed into your mouth. You took them deep, tears springing to your eyes as he pressed them further in, tickling the back of your throat. His gaze was expressionless, simply watching as you held your hands in your lap, tongue swirling against his palm as he reached new depths, eventually making you gag.

That brought a smirk to his lips, and he pulled his fingers from your mouth, once again rubbing the wetted digits against your puffy mouth. “Take off your clothes,” he leant back against the sofa with a sigh, reaching for his wine as you fumbled with the zipper on the side of your blouse. You let it fall from your arms, then stood to shimmy out of your skirt. He passively watched as you squirmed out of your panties, peeling the gusset wet with your arousal away from your slit with a hiss.

He beckoned you forward, and you stood between his legs. He grasped your wrist and pulled you across his knee, so your midsection hung over him, your breasts pressed into the cool leather of the couch. You gasped as his hand slid on the back of your thigh, just below your ass. “You are a lovely thing, aren’t you?”

You whined, hips grinding against his thigh at the comment. You could feel the wetness spread with your movements, his fingertips lightly dragging against your slit making you whine. “So fucking eager,” he did it again, but slowly, gathering a bit of slick against his fingertips.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, wishing he’d only give you more.

He chuckled, “I’ve barely touched you, pet.” He slid a hand into your hair, tugging at the roots to pull your face from the leather. You moaned, hands scrambling for purchase beneath yourself as your back bent. “I was going to toy with your cunt, but it seems you won’t last long. No use in it, is there?”

You groaned, pushing your hips against his thigh, all rational thoughts gone.

He tsked, rolling you off of him so you landed on your knees on the ground, a hiss coming from your lips on impact at the sting. Looking up you spotted a mirror propped up against the far wall. You hadn’t noticed it until now. The scene before you made your cunt ache, your naked body almost a shock in contrast to the well-dressed man on the couch behind you, not a hair out of place. The slick between your thighs caught the warm light from the lamp. He leant forward, forearm pressing against his thigh as his other hand wrapped around your throat.

You groaned, hips moving against the air as if it’d help quell the desire between your legs.

“What a sight,” he leant forward so his lips ghosted the shell of your ear as he spoke. You could see down his loose shirt in the mirror, the top buttons exposing his taut chest. You trembled, hips moving on their own accord once more as his grip tightened. “I haven’t even touched you and I can already tell I own that cunt.”

Your brows knit together and you nodded at his words, your mouth open as you panted. He turned, running his tongue along the shell of your ear. The sound that you made was almost inhuman, your hands clawing at your thighs as he tightened his grip further. “Fucking pathetic,” he whispered, the gravel in his voice making your eyes roll back as your hips moved in useless circles. He let go of your throat with a slight push and you gasped, your shaky hands scrambling to hold you upright.

“Please,” you rasped, meeting his icy gaze in the mirror as he took another sip of wine. His brow raised, he nodded for you to speak before setting the glass back down. “Can I suck your cock?” You asked, voice small as you met his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes.

He smirked. “You were telling the truth, weren’t you pet?”

You watched in the mirror as he stood, stepping around to face you. “You’re willing to do anything for it, for my attention.”

You nodded as your eyes fell to his fly, long fingers pulling against the fabric as he released his cock from his pants, the sight of it making your mouth run dry. “Well then, let’s see how far anything will take us, won’t we?”

You gazed up to find him smirking at you and you smiled before opening your mouth. His fingers found your jaw and he held your mouth open, his lips pursing as he spat into your mouth, some of it catching on your bottom lip. You keened high in the back of your throat, tasting him on your tongue as your hips shifted again, your fingertips itching to touch your dripping slit.

He chuckled. “Nasty little thing,” he spoke, fisting his cock with his other hand. “Hands off that fucking cunt.”

You nodded, keeping your mouth open, your eyes on his as you licked your bottom lip. He rested both hands against your head as he fed you his cock, your eyes closing at the warmth and weight of it on your tongue. You got to work, relaxing your throat as you took him deep, your tongue rubbing up against him. You took him all the way and stopped, looking up to see his dark eyes gazing at you before he started to thrust.

You gagged as he repeatedly hit the back of your throat, the length of him hard for you to take. Tears sprung to your eyes and fell as he moved faster, your hips still circling as your hands held onto each other in your lap. He pulled out, his eyes falling from your face to your breasts as you kissed his tip. “What a pretty little whore,” he smirked, running a thumb through your tears. His hand held the side of your cheek and you nodded up at him, giving permission. He raised it and struck, the impact stinging against your cheek as you groaned, licking your lips as you watched him.

His eyes were cloudy as he pressed his cock within your mouth once more. You were so enthralled you hadn’t noticed he’d shifted to press the leather of his shoe up against your bare cunt, the sensation making you flinch. You held his cock between your lips, tongue caressing it as he nodded down at you. “It’s the only thing you’ll get tonight darling,” he thrust further into your mouth, “go on.”

You didn’t need to be told twice and started grinding down against his shoe as he used your mouth. You groaned, feeling the slick gather quickly as you angled your hips just so to glide your clit against the soft leather. His jaw was set as he thrust into your throat, and the sight made you only wetter, your hips stuttering as his brows knit together.

Your pace was frantic, and you moaned around him as he angled his foot upwards, so your clit dragged deliciously, and almost painfully against the laces. Just as he pushed as far as he could go against your throat you froze, feeling a your cunt spasm around nothing, whining pitifully around his cock. You felt his balls twitch as he came deep in your throat a moment later, the sharp exhale of breath from above the only other indicator that he came. You swallowed all he had to give you eagerly as you trembled, his warm hands coming to rest on your shoulders.

He pulled himself from your lips and you blinked, processing what just happened. You’d never acted like that before, never came like that before. You’d fantasised about it, sure, but the most you’d ever come to was a light spanking and some choking, never that.

“Pet,” he spoke, the lightest touch guiding your gaze to his. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

~~~

He was so gentle with you as you showered, wrapping you in a fluffy towel before he sat you on the edge of his bed.

You were lost to thought. It had all felt so… So right. So right to do whatever he’d asked of you, the way he handled you so deliciously sent a pulse to your cunt, as if to remind you that you hadn’t even fucked. His cruel fucking joke only made you want more.

“Are you alright?” He asked, bringing you a cool glass of water.

You blinked up at him. He looked a little apprehensive. You hoped he hadn’t been watching this whole time. “Is it wrong to say I think I’m the most alright I’ve been in a very long time?” You bit your lip, the cool glass pressing against your palm.

You could see the relief in his eyes. He hid a grin, biting his lip as he shook his head. “No, Pet. Not wrong.” He brushed your cheekbone with his thumb. “Just a little fucked up.”

~~~

Author’s note: 🙃 welcome to hell 🖤 thank you for joining me. Not sure if I’ll post a third chapter, as things are likely to only get darker. Thank you for reading! 🖤🖤🖤

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