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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

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MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

The Marvel Comics Characters babysit your dog, Mr. Pickles

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Ben Grimm, Susan Storm, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa, Elektra Natchios, Victor von Doom, Peter Quill & Nova

Mr. Pickles: 100 | Marvel’s Most Dangerous Characters: 0

Peter Parker & Mr. Pickles

- Peter Parker thought he had seen chaos. He had battled the Sinister Six, fought off symbiotes, and saved the city more times than he could count. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for babysitting your tiny, fluffy, utterly reckless dog, Mr. Pickles.

- The first incident happened within minutes. Peter had barely set his backpack down when he turned around to find Mr. Pickles teetering on the edge of the kitchen counter, somehow having climbed up without opposable thumbs or logic. A split second later, Peter was diving forward, catching the little menace midair like he was saving a falling civilian from a burning building.

- Webbing became his only salvation. After Mr. Pickles managed to squeeze himself into the vents (how?!), Peter had no choice but to create an elaborate web barricade in the apartment. The place looked less like your home and more like a Spider-Man containment field.

- When he tried to work on some web fluid at your kitchen table, Mr. Pickles took it upon himself to bat at the vials like he was a cat, sending one flying straight into Peter’s hair. “Oh, come on, dude—do you have a vendetta against physics?!” he groaned, now stuck to the chair.

- By the time you returned, Peter was sitting on the couch, hair a mess, web fluid staining his fingers, Mr. Pickles curled up in his lap like an innocent angel. “Your dog is not real,” Peter muttered, voice hollow from exhaustion. “He is an agent of chaos.” But then you laughed, kissed his cheek, and suddenly, he decided maybe babysitting Mr. Pickles was worth it.

Tony Stark & Mr. Pickles

- Tony Stark was a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist—and now, apparently, an unwilling dog sitter. He had babysat robots more predictable than your tiny, fluffy terror, Mr. Pickles, who seemed to have a personal grudge against his entire penthouse.

- Five minutes in, the dog had already hacked into JARVIS. “Sir,” JARVIS reported, “Mr. Pickles has managed to override security protocols and is currently sending an email to Pepper Potts.” Tony whipped around. “He what?” The email in question was just a string of random letters and a single attachment: a blurry photo of Mr. Pickles’ own tail.

- The next three hours were spent chasing the demon-dog through the penthouse. Mr. Pickles had chewed through a custom Italian leather shoe, knocked over an entire tray of expensive whiskey glasses, and somehow ended up inside the Iron Man gauntlet display.

- Thinking himself the superior intellect, Tony built a small tracking device for Mr. Pickles. That lasted exactly fifteen minutes before the dog removed it and buried it inside one of Tony’s prized sports cars.

- By the time you came home, Tony was slumped in his chair, his expensive suit now covered in dog fur, while Mr. Pickles pranced happily across the table like he had won the war. “Your dog needs an exorcist,” Tony grumbled. You just kissed his forehead and said, “But you love him, right?” Tony sighed. “Unfortunately… yeah.”

Steve Rogers & Mr. Pickles

- Steve Rogers had fought in wars, led the Avengers, and stared down threats that could destroy the world. But nothing prepared him for babysitting Mr. Pickles, a dog whose only purpose in life seemed to be challenging the laws of nature.

- It started with the shield. Steve had set it down for one minute—one single minute—and somehow, Mr. Pickles had lodged himself inside the strap loops, running across the apartment with it stuck to his back like a medieval knight.

- The escape attempts were relentless. Every time Steve turned away, Mr. Pickles was finding new ways to jailbreak from the apartment. He squeezed under doors, climbed onto furniture he had no business reaching, and at one point, managed to activate Steve’s emergency communicator by jumping onto the counter. Sam Wilson showed up at the door minutes later, breathless. “Did you just summon the Avengers?” Steve sighed. “No. The dog did.”

- Steve had fought entire battles with less stress. When he tried to cook dinner, Mr. Pickles stole an entire steak off the counter and stared Steve dead in the eye as he ate it. When he tried to read a book, the dog somehow ended up inside the couch cushions.

- When you walked in, Steve was on the floor, holding Mr. Pickles upside down like he had accepted defeat. “Your dog has the soul of a war general,” Steve muttered. You just smiled, kissing his cheek. “That’s why I trusted Captain America to babysit him.” Steve sighed, looking at the fluffy criminal in his arms. “Yeah. I guess I kind of like him.”

Thor & Mr. Pickles

- Thor, the God of Thunder, had faced frost giants, dark elves, and cosmic horrors. But none of them were as terrifyingly determined as your tiny, fluffy white dog, Mr. Pickles.

- The moment Thor sat down, Mr. Pickles leapt onto his lap, staring into his soul with his beady eyes. Thor grinned. “Ah! A warrior spirit!” He scratched behind Mr. Pickles’ ears, convinced that this small creature was surely an Asgardian beast in disguise.

- Things took a turn when Thor left Mjolnir on the ground. Mr. Pickles, in his infinite foolishness, tried to pick it up. When the hammer didn’t budge, he began barking at it, circling it like it was an enemy. Thor, amused beyond belief, sat back and watched the battle unfold.

- Mr. Pickles did not win. But he did not give up, either. Thor, impressed by his persistence, lifted Mjolnir just enough for Mr. Pickles to wiggle underneath and emerge victorious. “You are brave,” Thor declared. “And terribly, terribly dumb.”

- When you returned, Mr. Pickles was sitting atop Thor’s shoulder like he was king of Asgard. Thor beamed at you. “Your small beast is worthy! I shall take him to battle!” You simply sighed. “Thor, please don’t take my dog to battle.”

Loki & Mr. Pickles

- Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief, should have known better. He was the master of deception, the embodiment of chaos—but even he was not prepared for your small, dumb, fluffy menace, Mr. Pickles.

- The trouble started the moment you left. Loki, confident in his abilities, had settled in with a book. Within ten minutes, Mr. Pickles had stolen one of his enchanted daggers and was running laps around the room with it.

- Loki was not amused. He summoned illusions of himself to try and corner the beast, but Mr. Pickles—defying all reason— managed to sniff out the real Loki every time.

- Realizing he had met his match, Loki decided to strike a deal. “You may keep the dagger,” he told Mr. Pickles, “if you agree to cease your foolishness.” Mr. Pickles promptly ignored him and chewed on the dagger handle.

- By the time you returned, Loki was sitting on the couch, holding Mr. Pickles like a defeated king cradling his downfall. “Your dog,” Loki said, “is the single most infuriating creature I have ever encountered.” You just smiled. “But you like him, right?” Loki sighed, reluctantly scratching behind Mr. Pickles’ ears. “Against my better judgment… yes.”

Clint Barton & Mr. Pickles

- Clint Barton thought he had dealt with enough chaos in his life. He had fought aliens, battled crime syndicates, and survived on a diet of pizza and sarcasm. But babysitting your tiny, fluffy, perpetually confused dog, Mr. Pickles? That was an entirely new level of disaster.

- The first mistake Clint made was underestimating Mr. Pickles. “Yeah, yeah, I got this,” he had said as you left. Five minutes later, the dog had vanished. One second he was on the couch, the next, he was gone—like a ghost with bad decision-making skills.

- The next three hours turned into a full-blown tactical operation. Clint used every trick in the book—tracking skills, stealth maneuvers, even an actual infrared scope—only to find Mr. Pickles sitting inside Clint’s quiver, chewing happily on an arrowhead. “Dude, I need those,” Clint groaned, prying the slobbery mess from tiny jaws.

- He tried distracting Mr. Pickles with treats. That worked for exactly two minutes before the dog somehow managed to jump onto the kitchen counter, knock over a coffee mug, and hit the emergency call button on Clint’s burner phone. When Kate Bishop picked up, laughing, Clint groaned, “Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it.”

- By the time you came home, Clint was laying on the floor, defeated, as Mr. Pickles slept soundly on his chest. “Your dog is part ninja, part escape artist, and entirely evil,” Clint muttered. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “But you love him, right?” Clint sighed, reluctantly scratching behind Mr. Pickles’ ears. “…Yeah, yeah. I love the dumb little menace.”

Natasha Romanoff & Mr. Pickles

- Natasha Romanoff was an elite assassin, a master of espionage, and completely unbothered by most things. Until, of course, she had to babysit Mr. Pickles.

- At first, she thought it would be easy. “He’s small,” she had told herself. “He’s fluffy. How much trouble can he be?” Two hours later, Natasha was standing on the coffee table, arms crossed, watching as Mr. Pickles circled her boots like a tiny, unhinged shark.

- She quickly realized Mr. Pickles had a taste for destruction. He tore apart a throw pillow, attempted to climb inside the dishwasher, and somehow chewed through her phone charger within ten minutes. “You’re worse than Clint,” she muttered, watching as he tried (and failed) to jump onto the windowsill.

- Despite the chaos, she found herself impressed by his persistence. When he got stuck in a blanket, he wiggled until he was free. When he knocked over his water bowl, he marched right through it like an unstoppable force. He reminded her, in some strange way, of herself—small but relentless, completely unaware of limits.

- When you returned, Mr. Pickles was curled up in Natasha’s lap, snoring softly. She glanced at you and smirked. “Your dog is dangerous,” she said. You laughed, leaning down to kiss her. “But you like him, right?” Natasha rolled her eyes but continued petting him. “…I tolerate him.” That was Natasha-speak for yes.

Bucky Barnes & Mr. Pickles

- Bucky Barnes had fought in wars, survived decades of brainwashing, and carried the weight of his past like an iron chain. Babysitting your tiny, fluffy disaster of a dog, Mr. Pickles, should have been easy. It was not.

- The first problem was the metal arm. Mr. Pickles was obsessed with it. He barked at it, licked it, and then tried to bite it—only to look extremely offended when his tiny teeth did nothing. “Buddy, I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here,” Bucky muttered, watching as the dog attempted (and failed) to wrestle his vibranium fingers.

- Mr. Pickles had no fear. He ran headfirst into furniture, nearly launched himself off the couch three separate times, and somehow got his head stuck inside a cereal box. Bucky spent a full five minutes just sighing and shaking his head before helping him out.

- By the end of the night, Bucky had fully accepted his fate. He sat on the couch, watching as Mr. Pickles zoomed around like a tiny white blur of chaos. “You’re exhausting,” Bucky told him. Mr. Pickles just wagged his tail, happy as ever.

- When you returned, Bucky was sitting on the floor, Mr. Pickles curled up in his lap, peacefully snoring. He glanced up at you, face unreadable. “We had a long discussion,” he said. “He’s still an idiot. But he’s our idiot.”

Matthew Murdock & Mr. Pickles

- Matt Murdock had dealt with enough surprises in life. He had lost his sight as a child, trained as a fighter, and spent his nights protecting Hell’s Kitchen. But nothing prepared him for the absolute chaos of babysitting Mr. Pickles.

- The first issue was his heightened senses. Mr. Pickles was small but somehow louder than an explosion. Every tiny footstep, every excited bark, every disastrous moment of chaos was amplified to near unbearable levels.

- Then came the smell. Matt had barely turned his back before he caught the unmistakable scent of a chewed-up shoe. He turned, unamused. “You did not just eat my dress shoes.” Mr. Pickles wagged his tail, entirely unremorseful.

- When the dog managed to escape into the hallway, Matt had no choice but to rely on his enhanced hearing to track him down. He followed the tiny, frantic paws to the stairwell—where Mr. Pickles had somehow managed to get stuck between two steps. “You are so lucky I like you,” Matt muttered, scooping him up.

- When you returned, Matt was sitting on the couch, Mr. Pickles resting on his lap. He turned his head toward you and smiled. “You didn’t tell me your dog was a criminal mastermind,” he teased. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. “But you like him, right?” Matt sighed, stroking Mr. Pickles’ tiny head. “…Yeah. I do.”

Frank Castle & Mr. Pickles

- Frank Castle had seen hell. He had been to war, lost everything, and waged a bloody battle against crime. Babysitting your tiny, fluffy, completely clueless dog should not have been the hardest mission of his life.

- It started with the growling. Mr. Pickles hated Frank’s boots. Every time Frank took a step, the dog charged at them like a feral beast, tiny tail wagging in pure, misplaced aggression. “You got a death wish, pal?” Frank muttered. Mr. Pickles barked once.

- Frank was not a dog person. But somehow, Mr. Pickles was determined to change that. He followed Frank around like a tiny, white shadow, completely ignoring the fact that Frank was actively trying to ignore him.

- At some point, Frank gave up. He sat down, glancing at the tiny beast sitting next to him. “Alright, you win,” he muttered. Mr. Pickles immediately rolled onto his back, demanding belly rubs. Frank sighed, rubbing his face. “Unbelievable.”

- By the time you came home, Frank was sitting on the couch, a tiny, snoring Mr. Pickles curled up beside him. He looked at you, completely serious. “Your dog is a menace,” he said. Then, after a long pause, he sighed. “…But he’s a good kid.”

Marc Spector & Mr. Pickles

- Marc Spector has fought gods, mercenaries, and monsters lurking in the shadows. He has survived betrayals, bloodshed, and nights spent drowning in his own mind. But he was not prepared for Mr. Pickles.

- The dog hated structure, which was a problem, because Marc thrived on it. He tried to set a routine—food at seven, walk at eight, no chewing on anything remotely important. Within minutes, Mr. Pickles had knocked over a lamp, chewed on Marc’s combat boots, and somehow disappeared inside a kitchen cabinet.

- Jake Lockley found him first. When Marc blinked, his reflection smirked and said, “El perrito es un desastre.” (The little dog is a disaster.) When he switched to Steven, he just heard a horrified, “Marc, he’s got your cape!”

- By the end of the night, Mr. Pickles was asleep on Marc’s chest, his tiny form rising and falling with each breath. Marc sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve fought Anubis. I’ve walked the path of the dead. And I was defeated… by you.”

- When you returned, you found Marc asleep on the couch, Mr. Pickles curled up against his ribs. You kissed his temple, whispering, “So, how’d it go?” Marc cracked one eye open. “I think we made a blood pact,” he muttered. “Your dog owns me now.”

Johnny Storm & Mr. Pickles

- Johnny Storm thought babysitting Mr. Pickles would be easy. He was a superhero, a celebrity, a professional fun-haver. Dogs loved him. He loved dogs. It should have been a perfect match.

- He was wrong.

- The first issue arose within ten minutes. Johnny had turned his back for two seconds when he heard a crash. He spun around to find Mr. Pickles standing victoriously on top of a knocked-over shelf, a chewed-up sock in his mouth. Johnny pointed at him. “Okay, that’s strike one.”

- Strike two came when the dog managed to climb onto Johnny’s bed, get tangled in the sheets, and somehow turn on the ceiling fan. Johnny barely caught him before he became airborne. “Buddy, you cannot just try to take flight,” he scolded, untangling him.

- By strike three, Johnny had accepted defeat. He laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling, as Mr. Pickles happily licked his face. “You win, little dude. I can’t keep up.”

- When you got home, Johnny was half-asleep, Mr. Pickles curled up in his hoodie. He groaned dramatically. “You didn’t tell me you had a tiny, fluffy supervillain.” You smirked, ruffling his hair. “But you love him, right?” Johnny sighed. “…Yeah, okay. He’s cool.”

Reed Richards & Mr. Pickles

- Reed Richards has solved equations that baffle the greatest minds of the century. He has rewritten physics, built machines that defy reality, and held the fabric of the multiverse in his hands. But nothing could have prepared him for Mr. Pickles.

- It started as an experiment. Reed, ever the scientist, wanted to study the peculiar behavior of your fluffy, oblivious dog. “It’s fascinating,” he mused, adjusting his glasses as Mr. Pickles attempted to bite his own tail and immediately fell over.

- That fascination quickly turned into mild horror when Mr. Pickles found his way into the lab. Within seconds, he had knocked over a beaker, chewed on some incredibly important notes, and—somehow—turned on the molecular destabilizer.

- Reed had to stretch halfway across the room to shut it off before anything catastrophic happened. He picked up Mr. Pickles, holding him at arm’s length. “You, sir, are an anomaly.” Mr. Pickles wagged his tail, completely unbothered.

- By the time you came home, Reed was sitting on the couch, reading quantum mechanics to Mr. Pickles, who was dozing on his lap. He adjusted his glasses. “He’s… quite the experiment.” You laughed, kissing his cheek. “But you love him, right?” Reed hesitated, then sighed. “…I suppose I do.”

Ben Grimm & Mr. Pickles

- Ben Grimm, the ever-lovin’ blue-eyed Thing, had faced cosmic horrors, supervillains, and existential crises. Babysitting your tiny, fluffy, dumb dog should’ve been easy. It was not.

- Within the first five minutes, Mr. Pickles had somehow gotten himself stuck under the couch. Ben sighed, reaching under with his massive hand and plucking the tiny dog up like a stubborn sock. “Kid, I’m tellin’ ya, you got no survival instincts.”

- Mr. Pickles, undeterred, immediately tried to chew on Ben’s massive rocky fingers. Ben raised a brow. “Oh, so you wanna scrap, huh?” The dog growled playfully, yapping at him with all the confidence of a creature who had never faced consequences.

- Eventually, Ben sat on the couch, Mr. Pickles curled up on his lap, snoring. He huffed, crossing his arms. “Ain’t no one better tell Reed about this. I got a reputation.”

- When you came back, you grinned at the sight of them together. “So, did you two bond?” Ben scoffed. “Bond? Nah. But… maybe he ain’t so bad. For a troublemaker.” Mr. Pickles snored louder. “…Yeah, yeah, I get it. You win, furball.”

Susan Storm & Mr. Pickles

- Susan Storm had dealt with far worse than a tiny, fluffy dog. Or so she thought.

- At first, everything was fine. Mr. Pickles wagged his tail, looking deceptively innocent. Susan smiled. “Oh, you’re adorable. This will be easy.” She would regret saying that.

- The second she turned around, Mr. Pickles vanished. Not literally, but it sure felt like it. Susan searched the Baxter Building, using her invisibility to sneak up on him. She found him in Reed’s lab, chewing on a very expensive-looking piece of tech.

- “Oh no, no, no—bad dog!” She swooped in, scooping him up before he could cause an explosion. Mr. Pickles licked her nose. She sighed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

- By the time you got back, Susan was sitting on the couch, petting Mr. Pickles with one hand while rubbing her temple with the other. You grinned. “So, how did it go?” She gave you a tired smile. “…I love you, but next time, Johnny is babysitting.”

Felicia Hardy & Mr. Pickles

- Felicia Hardy had done a lot of reckless things in her life. She had stolen diamonds from locked vaults, toyed with superheroes, danced along the razor’s edge of disaster. But Mr. Pickles? He was a different kind of challenge.

- At first, she wasn’t impressed. “This is the little menace?” she had said, eyeing him. Then, five minutes later, she was chasing him around the apartment, cursing under her breath as he dodged every attempt to catch him.

- She realized, with a sort of begrudging admiration, that Mr. Pickles was fast. He slipped through her fingers, ducked under tables, and even managed to knock over a priceless antique vase she had definitely stolen.

- By the end of the night, Felicia had completely given in. She sat on the floor, watching as Mr. Pickles happily gnawed on a stolen hair tie. “You’re a little criminal,” she murmured, “and I kinda respect it.”

- When you came home, you found Felicia curled up on the couch, Mr. Pickles sleeping on her stomach. She cracked an eye open and smirked. “He’s growing on me.” You grinned. “So you love him?” Felicia stretched, running her fingers through his fur. “…Yeah. But don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Stephen Strange & Mr. Pickles

- Stephen Strange was one of the most powerful sorcerers in existence. He had traveled across dimensions, held the fate of the universe in his hands, bargained with cosmic entities. Babysitting Mr. Pickles should have been beneath him.

- And yet, here he was, standing in his Sanctum Sanctorum, staring at the tiny, fluffy creature wreaking absolute havoc. “No,” he said flatly as Mr. Pickles climbed onto the Cloak of Levitation, chewed on the enchanted embroidery, and then tried to ride it like a tiny, ill-advised chariot.

- Wong walked in, took one look at the chaos, and turned right back around. “Not my problem.”

- Stephen sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alright, you little menace. You’ve bested gods and mystics alike. What do you want?” Mr. Pickles barked once, wagging his tail. “Of course. Attention.”

- When you returned, Stephen was sitting in his armchair, the Cloak of Levitation draped around both him and Mr. Pickles. He didn’t even look up as you entered. “Your dog has no respect for the eldritch arts.” You bit back a laugh. “But you love him, right?” Stephen sighed dramatically. “…Against my better judgment, yes.”

Namor & Mr. Pickles

- Namor, King of Atlantis, First Mutant, Imperius Rex—babysitting a tiny, fluffy, absurdly dumb land creature was beneath him. He had ruled for centuries, waged wars, and stood against titans. And yet, you had looked at him with those eyes, and suddenly, here he was.

- Within minutes, Mr. Pickles had launched himself into a decorative Atlantean fountain, paddling with all the grace of a drowning pearl diver. Namor, unimpressed, crossed his arms. “You are not suited for the ocean, tiny beast.” Mr. Pickles barked, thrilled.

- The palace was not meant for creatures like him. In the span of an hour, he had chewed on an ancient scroll, attempted to befriend a very unamused sea serpent, and somehow found his way into the throne room, where he proudly sat upon Namor’s throne. The royal guards had never been more confused.

- By the time you returned, Namor stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable as Mr. Pickles wagged his tail at his feet. “Your creature is reckless, absurdly ill-equipped for survival, and entirely too confident for his own good.” You bit back a smile. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

- He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Against my better judgment, I will tolerate him.” You knelt, scooping Mr. Pickles into your arms. “Oh, so you love him?” Namor scoffed, turning on his heel. “Do not push your luck.” But the way Mr. Pickles trotted after him suggested otherwise.

Johnny Blaze & Mr. Pickles

- Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider, had made a deal with the Devil himself—but even Mephisto hadn’t prepared him for Mr. Pickles. He was expecting something manageable, maybe even chill. Instead, he got a tiny, fluffy tornado of chaos.

- Mr. Pickles immediately attempted to fight his motorcycle. Not sniff it. Not inspect it. Fight it. The little thing barked furiously at the flaming wheels, jumping up in a wild, futile attempt to bite them. Johnny had seen demons with more self-preservation.

- When Johnny tried to take a nap, Mr. Pickles climbed onto his chest, stared directly into his soul, and promptly sneezed on his face. Johnny wiped his face with a groan. “You’re lucky you’re cute, man.”

- At some point, the dog managed to run off with Johnny’s favorite leather jacket. By the time he caught him, Mr. Pickles was rolling around in it like it was his new personal throne. Johnny narrowed his eyes. “…Alright. You win. It’s yours now.”

- When you got home, you found Johnny on the couch, absently scratching Mr. Pickles’ ears. You grinned. “So, how’d it go?” Johnny sighed. “I think I just sold my soul again. To your dog.”

Eddie Brock / Venom & Mr. Pickles

- Eddie Brock had Venom. You had Mr. Pickles. The problem was that Venom did not understand why Mr. Pickles existed.

- “Is it prey?” Venom asked within the first five minutes. Eddie sighed, rubbing his temples. “No, buddy. It’s a pet.” Venom tilted its head. “We do not eat it?” Mr. Pickles wagged his tail obliviously. “No. We do not eat it.”

- Venom, unfortunately, did not like competition. Mr. Pickles demanded attention. Venom demanded you. The standoff began immediately. Eddie woke up to find Mr. Pickles asleep on his chest, while Venom loomed above him like a shadow, glowering.

- It only got worse when Mr. Pickles stole Eddie’s sandwich. Venom raged. “The creature has taken OUR food! We must retaliate!” Eddie sighed, watching as Mr. Pickles happily chewed on his stolen prize. “Yeah, buddy. I don’t think we’re winning this war.”

- When you returned, Eddie sat on the couch, Venom’s tendrils twitching in irritation, Mr. Pickles napping peacefully on his lap. You grinned. “Venom, did you make a friend?” Venom hissed. “He is an adversary.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “…Yeah. That means yes.”

T’Challa & Mr. Pickles

- T’Challa had fought in battles that shaped history, had led a nation, had outmaneuvered gods and kings. He had not, however, anticipated Mr. Pickles.

- Shuri was absolutely delighted. She took one look at the tiny, ridiculous dog and immediately declared, “He is my favorite guest.” T’Challa, arms crossed, simply said, “He is… something.”

- Mr. Pickles was determined to challenge every Wakandan security measure. Within an hour, he had gotten past two Dora Milaje, slipped into the royal chambers, and was found happily wagging his tail atop the Vibranium throne.

- Okoye was not amused. Shuri was entertained. T’Challa sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “This dog fears nothing.” Shuri smirked. “Much like someone else I know.”

- By the time you returned, Mr. Pickles was curled up beside T’Challa, who was absentmindedly scratching behind his ears. You crossed your arms. “So, do you love him?” T’Challa did not look up. “…I tolerate him.” Mr. Pickles licked his hand. “…Perhaps a little more than that.”

Elektra Natchios & Mr. Pickles

- Elektra had survived assassins, taken down empires, and danced in the dark with death itself. She was elegant, precise, a living weapon. Mr. Pickles, on the other hand, was a small, fluffy ball of pure idiocy.

- He immediately tried to steal one of her sais. She watched, unimpressed, as he grabbed the handle in his tiny jaws and attempted to run away. He tripped, rolled over, and barked at the ceiling in defiance. She had seen warriors with less determination.

- Despite her initial reluctance, she found herself watching him, observing. There was something admirable about his foolish bravery. His absolute lack of fear. The way he took up space despite his size.

- Eventually, he curled up next to her, snuggling against her side. Elektra, without thinking, ran her fingers through his soft fur. She had never had a pet before. She had never let herself want one. But this? This, she could allow.

- When you returned, Elektra simply looked at you, one hand still on Mr. Pickles’ back. You smirked. “So… you love him?” She arched a brow. “Love is a strong word.” Mr. Pickles snored softly against her. “…But perhaps, just this once, I can allow it.”

Victor von Doom & Mr. Pickles

- Doom did not babysit. Doom did not serve. Doom did not tolerate fools. And yet, here he was.

- He stared at Mr. Pickles. Mr. Pickles stared back, tail wagging. Doom narrowed his eyes. “You are beneath me.” Mr. Pickles barked happily. Doom scowled. “Cease.” Mr. Pickles barked again.

- The dog, completely oblivious to the concept of fear, followed Doom around Latveria. At some point, he clambered onto Doom’s throne, tail thumping against the armrest. The royal guards exchanged nervous glances. Doom exhaled slowly. “I despise this.”

- However, when a diplomat dared to insult Doom, Mr. Pickles yapped aggressively, standing protectively in front of him. Doom observed this. “Hmph. At least you recognize greatness.”

- When you returned, Doom crossed his arms. “Your creature is an idiot.” You smiled. “But did you like him?” Doom huffed. “Doom tolerates him. Nothing more.” Mr. Pickles jumped into his lap. Doom sighed. “…Fine. Perhaps a little more.”

Peter Quill & Mr. Pickles

- Peter Quill thought babysitting a tiny dog would be easier than babysitting Rocket. He was wrong.

- “Okay, little dude, let’s make this easy.” Mr. Pickles promptly stole one of his mixtapes. “HEY! That’s vintage!” A chase ensued across the Milano, Star-Lord versus a fluffy menace.

- Eventually, Peter gave up. Mr. Pickles sat triumphantly atop his pillow, the mixtape still in his mouth. Peter sighed. “You’re lucky I got a soft spot for troublemakers.”

- The dog, realizing he had won, curled up beside him. Peter smirked. “Alright, fine. You can stay.” Mr. Pickles snuggled closer. Peter grumbled. “…Don’t tell Rocket about this.”

- When you got back, you found them both asleep on the couch. You whispered, “So, how did it go?” Without opening his eyes, Peter muttered, “I think I just lost my ship to your dog.”

Nova & Mr. Pickles

- Richard Rider had fought space tyrants, cosmic gods, and existential threats. Mr. Pickles, somehow, was worse.

- Mr. Pickles had no concept of galactic law. Within minutes, he had tried to steal a Nova Corps helmet, chewed on an important report, and attempted to fight a very confused alien.

- Richard sighed, picking up the tiny menace. “Okay, dude. I don’t have time for intergalactic incidents. Work with me here.” Mr. Pickles licked his face. Richard groaned. “…I give up.”

- By the end of the day, the entire Nova Corps had begrudgingly accepted Mr. Pickles. Someone even made him a tiny Nova helmet. Richard just sighed. “I am never living this down.”

- When you returned, Richard handed Mr. Pickles to you. “Your dog is now an honorary Nova Corps member.” You laughed. “So, did you love him?” Richard huffed. “…He’s alright.” Mr. Pickles barked happily. “…Fine. Maybe a little more than alright.”

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angelremnants · 6 months ago

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A TALES OF... l Tides and Mishaps

OR.. After your strange ordeal, you find yourself brought to Asgard, where you're to face a trial for your unusual bond with your necklace. With Loki forcing his company onto you, you both go through a tense encounter that leaves both of you soaked, disheveled and wondering what will happen next.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), mild suggestive content, power dynamics, flirtation and teasing, unresolved sexual tension, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 11.4k

author's notes : I am back, baby! Finally finished with my exams, and we're celebrating with this ficlet! It adds more depth to the series' lore while sprinkling in some playful moments. Writing this felt essential to set the stage for the spicy plot I’ve been itching to dive into.

Find the continuation here.⠀(18+—MDNI.)

(ao3 version)

The Bifrost roared to life, a maelstrom of light and sound that seemed to swallow the world whole. For one heart-stopping moment, you felt weightless, as though the very air had been torn from your lungs. And then, just as suddenly, it was over.

Your feet hit solid ground, though it didn’t feel it as much—it didn’t have the same firmness as Earth’s soil. The surface beneath you was smooth, crystalline, and alive with shifting colors. You stumbled slightly, catching yourself against the closest steady presence, which just so happened to be Loki.

“Do try to stay upright,” he drawled, steadying you with a hand on your arm before stepping back with exaggerated grace.

You blinked, regaining your balance as you fixed him with a glare. “You could’ve warned me.”

“And miss that look of sheer terror? Absolutely not,” he replied with a smirk, releasing you as if it were beneath him to linger too long.

Your retort died on your lips as your eyes took in the sight before you: Asgard. The city glimmered like something out of a dream, its golden spires piercing the heavens, the sky above it painted in hues you couldn’t name. Rivers of light wove through the air like threads in an invisible loom, casting an otherworldly glow over everything.

Your jaw dropped. “It’s… it’s…”

“Glorious?” Loki supplied, clearly enjoying your reaction based on the indubitable edge of pride in his voice. “Magnificent? Breathtaking? Go on, I’ve got all day.”

“Overwhelming,” you finished, still gaping.

“Ah, a new one,” he said with mock surprise. “How refreshing.”

Before you could formulate a response, the sound of footsteps echoed across the bridge. An imposing figure approached with the deliberate, measured pace of someone who carried the weight of millennia on his shoulders. His golden eyes swept over you, lingering for a moment longer than you were comfortable with before settling on Loki, narrowing slightly.

“Prince Loki,” he saluted with a small nod, his voice low and resonant.

“Heimdall,” Loki replied smoothly, his tone laced with feigned civility. “No need for that intimidating look. I am precisely where I’m supposed to be.”

“Rare, but true,” Heimdall said, his gaze shifting back to you. He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You are the one who bears the gift.”

You hesitated under the weight of his gaze. “That’s me,” you said with an awkward smile, trying for a tone that sounded casual but landed somewhere closer to nervous.

Heimdall’s piercing stare softened slightly, though a flicker of something unreadable danced behind his golden eyes. “Perhaps…” he murmured as if speaking more to himself than to you.

“Perhaps?” you repeated, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He ignored your question, instead turning his attention to Loki. “And you brought her here in due form? Color me surprised—perhaps your talk of redemption isn’t entirely hollow after all.”

Loki’s smirk deepened, as though the mere idea of Heimdall questioning him brought him endless amusement. “Oh come along, Heimdall, have some faith in me will you? Thor was otherwise occupied, so yes, I am the one who delivered our little anomaly to Asgard. Do try not to look so surprised.”

Heimdall’s gaze flickered back to you, and this time his expression was unreadable. “You assume much, Loki, as always. There is more to this one than meets the eye.”

You blinked, your brow furrowing. “Uh, hello? Cryptic much?”

Instead of gracing you with an answer, Heimdall turned and began walking toward the city, his stride as unyielding as the bridge beneath your feet. “Come. There is much to discuss, and the Allfather will not wait.”

You exchanged a confused glance with Loki, but he only shrugged, clearly uninterested in dissecting Heimdall’s cryptic words.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Loki said, following after the gatekeeper with an air of feigned indifference. “He enjoys making everything sound mysterious and profound. It’s practically a pastime.”

But you couldn’t shake the weight of Heimdall’s words as you drew closer to the city. More than meets the eye. It was an idea that gnawed at you as you stared at the golden gates ahead, a growing knot of unease twisting in your stomach.

Whatever awaited you inside the halls of Asgard, you suspected it would be more than you were prepared for.

⠀⠀

Soon enough, the small group reached the golden gates of Asgard which opened with a slow, reverent creak, revealing the splendor within. As you stepped across the threshold, you felt your breath hitch. The palace was impossibly vast, its ceilings arching so high above that they seemed to disappear into the ether. Columns of gleaming gold lined the grand hall, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that shimmered faintly as though alive. Sunlight poured in from massive windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the polished floors.

“I’m starting to think you people don’t do subtle,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loki, walking beside you with his usual swagger, smirked. “Subtlety is overrated. What you see here is the peak of sophistication and culture.”

“I get where your dramatic flair comes from now. Feels like you’re compensating for something,” you shot back, unable to resist to the temptation of the snark.

“Compensating?” Loki scoffed, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Darling, if Asgard were compensating, we’d have built two palaces and made them float.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Right, because subtlety really is your strong suit.”

“Subtlety,” he said, stepping ahead with a flourish while twirling his cape as if to make a point, “is for those who have nothing worth showing off.”

Ahead of them, Heimdall paused and turned just enough to give Loki a pointed look. “Do try to behave,” he said dryly. “We are in the presence of the Allfather’s court, after all.”

Loki sighed dramatically. “Always the stickler, Heimdall. I assure you, that my behavior will be exemplary. Can’t guarantee the same for our invitee over here.”

You raised an eyebrow but wisely chose not to comment. Instead, you focused on the grand hall ahead, where grand statures loomed at the far end seemingly watching over the entrance of the throne rooms. God, must all Asgardians be so tall?

Two guards in shining armor led you through the labyrinthine halls, their expressions stoic, their silence impenetrable. You clutched your neck where the artifact had affixed itself weeks ago, the golden runes etched into your skin glowing faintly under your touch. It hadn’t hurt, but it had refused to let go, as if it had claimed you. Those wretched SHIELD scientists on Earth had no answers. Neither did you.

A voice broke through your thoughts as you reached the throne room. "The Allfather will see you now."

The massive doors creaked open, revealing a short but intimidating old man seated on his throne, the ever-watchful Heimdall leading the troupe and striding to pay his respects. Guess not, after all. A gorgeous and graceful lady sat beside him, her serene expression offering a sliver of comfort amidst the tension. You stepped forward hesitantly, feeling like you had sinned for even letting your feet brush against the polished floor.

"Come closer," Odin commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. You obeyed, feeling small beneath his gaze.

Even from a distance, his presence was imposing. Draped in regal robes of deep crimson and gold, the Allfather sat upon a throne that seemed carved from starlight itself. His one remaining eye fixed on you as you approached, sharp and unyielding. The queen beside him held an elegance that was a stark contrast to the weight of Odin’s authority.

As you drew closer, you felt the weight of their scrutiny settle on you. You were acutely aware of your attire—a basic white shirt, paired with a burgundy leather jacket and jeans, entirely impolite for the occasion. The contrast between the modern, casual outfit and the ancient, sacred setting was striking, and it felt as though you were wearing a banner of your inadequacy. The artifact bound to your neck—the ornate, ancient-looking jewelry you hadn’t been able to remove—seemed to pulse faintly under their gaze, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

However, beneath the surface, there was an almost surreal feeling tugging at you. You had been stripped of your usual layers, your defenses, your control—forced to stand before these gods and be judged.

You stopped at the base of the dais, and Heimdall stepped forward, bowing deeply. “Allfather. I present the mortal who bears the artifact.”

Odin’s gaze shifted to you, and the air seemed to grow heavier. You swallowed hard, unsure whether to bow, curtsy, or just stand there and hope you didn’t offend anyone. Your voice faltered as you glanced at the ground and stuttered, “Do I... Do I bow, or—?” Your words trailed off, feeling absurd in the silence that stretched between them.

Odin’s expression hardened, but there was a brief flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—before he spoke. “You stand as you are, mortal. Your presence here has already spoken volumes.”

The silence hung thick, and you straightened, hoping you hadn't overstepped, but unsure if you had done enough. Loki’s absence of protest was loud in its own way, though.

“You’ve brought her here safely,” Odin said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying the weight of eons. “Good.”

Then his gaze moved to Loki, narrowing slightly. “And you. I had expected Thor to complete this task, yet it is you who stands before me. Explain.”

Loki’s posture straightened, his usual smirk fading into something more restrained. “Thor is off-world, tending to a matter of great importance,” he said smoothly. “I was the logical choice to retrieve her. After all, who better to guide a mortal through the complexities of our realm than I?”

“Or to exploit her presence for your amusement,” Odin countered sharply, his tone cutting.

Loki’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t falter. “I’m here because I was entrusted with the task. And I fulfilled it.”

“You are supposed to be on house arrest, boy—”

Frigga stepped forward then, her voice gentle but firm. “And had he not gone, we wouldn’t have the chance to meet her, would we, my king? She stands before us unharmed.”

You sneaked a glance at Loki out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you saw something entirely unfamiliar. The usual sharpness in his demeanor, the endless supply of biting wit and bravado, seemed dulled under Odin’s glare. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, and his hands clasped behind his back as if restraining himself. You’d never seen him so repressed before, so small beneath someone else’s authority. It unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

Odin’s gaze lingered on Loki for a moment longer before he shifted his focus back to you. “What do you know of the artifact you carry?”

“Not much,” you admitted, your voice steadier than you expected. “I found it during a trip to Sweden. The moment I picked it up, it latched onto me. I’ve tried everything—pulling it off, cutting it, even letting some organization poke at it with their fancy tech.”

Loki smirked beside you. “Charming.”

You ignored him. “It doesn’t hurt me, but sometimes it feels like it’s… alive. Like it’s trying to tell me something.”

Odin’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eye—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. “It is no ordinary artifact,” he said at last. “Its origins are older than even this realm. We will determine its purpose and its bond to you, but the process will not be easy.”

You frowned, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth surface of the artifact. “What does that mean?”

Instead of answering directly, Odin raised his staff, Gungnir, and tapped it once against the polished floor. The chamber darkened, and the golden light of Asgard’s magic rippled through the air. A projection began to form before you—a shimmering, ethereal image of Yggdrasil, its vast branches stretching infinitely. At its roots coiled the immense, terrifying form of a serpent, its scales dark and glimmering with an otherworldly sheen.

“This,” Odin began, his voice reverberating through the room, “is Níðhöggr, the wyrm who once gnawed at the roots of Yggdrasil, threatening the very balance of the Nine Realms. Long before my reign, even before the reign of my father Borr, the great serpent clashed with my grandfather, Búri. Their battle raged for days, shaking the very foundation of existence.”

The projection shifted, showing an imposing figure clad in ancient armor, wielding a glowing axe as he fought the massive serpent. As the battle raged, one of Níðhöggr’s scales fell, pulsing with the chaotic energy of Yggdrasil’s roots.

“When Níðhöggr was finally defeated by my grandfather the late Búri and cast into obscurity, this single scale remained—a fragment of its power, imbued with the raw magic of Yggdrasil itself,” Odin continued. “It was believed lost, hidden from both gods and mortals alike, until now.”

The projection faded, and the light returned to the chamber. Odin’s gaze fell heavily on you, his expression unreadable. “That scale, the Wyrmscale, has bound itself to you. Why it has chosen a mortal remains to be seen, but its attachment is no trivial matter. It may seek to awaken something within you—or to serve as a harbinger of something far worse.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening as you processed the weight of his words. “And… what does that mean for me? What happens now?”

“That is why you’re here,” Heimdall interjected, his tone solemn, stepping forward. “To be tested.”

Odin nodded gravely, his expression unwavering. “The Hollow of Trials. It is a place where the balance of the realms is tested, a sacred site known only to a few. It is said that those who enter must confront the deepest parts of themselves, for the cave reveals not only your strengths but your weaknesses, your fears, and your potential. It is a place of transformation, where even gods must face their trials to gain wisdom and power.”

You raised an eyebrow, eyeing the seriousness of Odin and Heimdall before turning to Loki, whose face was as unreadable as ever. You had to admit, that the description sounded intense. But you weren’t about to let the solemn atmosphere throw you off. “So… it’s just a cave, then?”

Odin’s eye twitched, his gaze shifting from the projection of the cave to you with a sharp, piercing look. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as if trying to decide whether to address the disrespect or simply let it pass. He chose the former. “It is not ‘just a cave,’ mortal,” he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of centuries. The side-eye he gave you was cold and unimpressed. “The Hollow of Trials is a place of great significance. It tests those who enter in ways you cannot yet comprehend.”

You met his gaze without flinching, but there was no hiding the slight grin tugging at your lips. You leaned toward Loki and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “Guess it’s not just a cave then.”

Loki’s lips twitched into a brief smile before he straightened, looking back to Odin. “It is a place of trials, yes. Much more than a mere cave.” His voice was smooth, but there was a slight edge to it, the kind that came from having spent too many years around Odin’s more… imposing presence.

Odin’s side-eye lingered for a moment longer before he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “You will see for yourself soon enough. But remember this, Midgardian,” he added with quiet authority, “you are on sacred ground. Show it the respect it demands.”

You gave him a nod, not entirely convinced, but fully aware that disrespecting him further would probably not end well. “Got it. Big, serious cave.”

Heimdall stepped forward, eyeing you now with a hint of disapproval, though he didn’t speak. Odin’s gaze shifted to Loki then, seemingly dismissing you for the moment, though the weight of his earlier words still hung heavy in the air.

Frigga, who had remained silently observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice light but with an undercurrent of motherly warmth. “You are brave to face this trial,” she said, her gaze flicking over you with a faint smile. “The cave will bring out what you least expect, but it will also show you the truth of yourself. Be prepared for what you may learn.”

You weren’t sure if you should be reassured by Frigga’s words or if they were meant to prepare you for something worse. You gave a tight smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, Your Majesty.”

Frigga’s smile deepened at the respectful tone. “Good. Trust in the process. And remember, you are not alone in this, no matter how it feels in the moment.”

Before you could respond, Loki stepped forward, his usual swagger replaced with a more persuasive tone. “And while [Y/N] faces these trials, surely it would be wise for me to accompany her. As her guide, I could—”

Odin’s piercing gaze snapped to Loki, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room thickened. “You will do no such thing.”

Loki’s smile faltered for just a moment. “But father, surely my presence would be—”

“No,” Odin interjected, his voice cutting through Loki’s words like a sharp blade. “This trial is hers alone to face. You will remain here, where you are needed.”

Loki hesitated, pressing his lips together as if weighing his words. There was an unmistakable flicker of reluctance in his eyes, one that wasn’t lost on either of his parents. Frigga’s brow furrowed slightly, and she exchanged a rapid glance with Odin before turning her attention back to Loki.

“You seem... unusually determined to accompany her, Loki,” Frigga remarked, her tone soft but laced with concern. “Is there a reason you are so reluctant to let her face this alone?”

Loki’s smirk faded, his posture stiffening. He quickly recovered, though, leaning into his usual charm. “I’m simply looking out for her well-being,” he said smoothly, though the edge in his voice suggested there was more beneath the surface. “Surely you both can see that this trial will be taxing on her. It’s only natural for me to ensure she isn’t harmed.”

Odin’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding his expression. “And you think you are the best one to protect her in this trial? You, who has only recently earned back our trust?”

Loki didn’t flinch at the accusation, but there was an almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw. “I am capable of more than you know, Father. You needn’t worry about me.”

Frigga studied him with a piercing gaze, her motherly instincts keen. “Loki,” she said gently, “it’s not the protection of [Y/N] we question. It’s your reasons for wanting to accompany her. You’ve never been one to shy away from danger or intrigue. What is it that you fear in her doing this alone?”

Loki’s eyes flickered toward you, his voice lowering. “It’s not fear. It’s caution.” He looked back at Odin and Frigga, his expression a little more guarded now. “This is a unique situation. One I believe requires a guiding hand.”

Odin’s piercing gaze remained fixed on him, his silence speaking volumes. There was no anger in the god’s eyes, only a quiet understanding that Loki’s behavior was anything but ordinary. Frigga placed a hand gently on Odin’s arm, but her eyes never left her son.

“You are not to accompany her,” Odin finally decreed, his voice firm. “The Hollow of Trials requires solitude, and it is not your place to interfere.”

Loki’s face remained neutral, but his eyes darkened with unspoken emotions. “As you wish,” he said flatly, stepping back. “But I’ll be close, Father. You know where to find me if you need anything... or if the trial proves too much for her.”

Odin and Frigga exchanged another look, their suspicion deepening as they watched Loki’s retreat. Frigga’s voice softened, though, as she turned back to you.

“Do not mind him,” she said, her tone comforting. “Loki’s path is… complicated, but his concern for you is genuine, in his own way.”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of sympathy and wariness toward the prince. Loki had certainly been a puzzle to you so far, but right now, you had more pressing matters at hand.

“Well, I guess I’m off to this ‘Hollow of Trials,’ then,” you said, a nervous smile creeping onto your face. “Hopefully I can avoid turning into a snack for whatever’s in there.”

⠀⠀

As you stepped into the lavish room, Frigga followed close behind, her presence both comforting and commanding. The regal chambers felt foreign to you, the walls lined with intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles and victories. It was strange to be in a place so full of history, knowing you were now a part of it, however briefly.

Frigga smiled gently, her warmth radiating in the cold, cavernous room. “You must be feeling overwhelmed,” she said softly, watching you as you looked around.

You gave a weak smile, your hands still nervously twitching. “You could say that. I never expected any of this. One moment I’m just a regular exchange student on a school trip to Sweden, and the next I am here, about to enter a sacred cave... and probably face some weird, magical thing."

Frigga’s eyes softened, her smile never faltering. "This is a lot to take in, but you are stronger than you realize. It is an honor to be here, and this trial will help you find out what you're truly capable of."

You glanced at Frigga, then down at yourself. You were still dressed in the simple clothes you had worn for the journey, and though they were practical, they wouldn’t do for such an occasion. "So... what exactly am I supposed to wear? Not that I’ve had much time to go shopping for sacred cave attire."

Frigga chuckled, the sound rich and full of warmth. "Fear not, I will take care of that." She moved toward a large wardrobe at the far side of the room, filled with gowns and outfits woven from fine silks and materials that shimmered like the night sky. "These aren’t the usual gowns of Asgard," Frigga explained, "but they are practical for such a trial."

She motioned for you to sit as she began pulling out garments, her eyes assessing the materials with a practiced hand. "I know it may seem strange, this idea of dressing up for a trial, but appearances can be important in Asgard. There is honor in how we present ourselves, even in the most difficult of moments."

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly. "Seems a bit... extra, don’t you think? For a cave trial?"

Frigga smiled knowingly. "Perhaps," she said softly, as she began to unfold a simple yet elegant outfit made of light fabric. "But this trial will reveal your inner strength. You must present yourself as you truly are—strong, capable, and unafraid of the challenges ahead."

Frigga laid out the attire, a soft, flowing robe of pure white that shimmered faintly under the dim light of the room. The fabric was delicate, like the finest silk, but not overly elaborate—its simplicity lent it an understated elegance that would suit your unassuming nature. The robe draped down from the shoulders in soft folds, the design was minimal but graceful, with no heavy embellishments to distract from its quiet beauty. The sleeves were long and fluid, cinched at the wrist with a thin silver band, and the hem barely brushed the floor, giving the robe an ethereal quality, like a soft cloud in a moonlit sky.

Around the waist was a subtle, golden-threaded sash that tied loosely, giving the robe shape without constricting it. It didn’t cling to your figure, but the soft weight of the fabric promised to mold your body in a way that would emphasize the graceful movement of your form. There was nothing ostentatious about it, yet the robe exuded a regal aura—its simplicity accentuated by its luxurious fabric.

It was clear that Frigga had chosen this robe not just for its beauty, but for its practicality. The lightness of the fabric made it seem almost weightless, yet its soft sheen caught the light in a way that would make it appear even more beautiful when wet, the material clinging gently to the skin, tracing every curve in a way that was both delicate and stunning.

She held up the clothes and turned back to you, who was still seated, unsure of how to approach the situation. "I know this is unfamiliar," Frigga continued, her voice warm and soothing. "But let me help you, child. You don’t have to face this alone. Not truly."

As you began to change behind a nearby screen, you felt an unusual sense of comfort in Frigga's words. Despite the regal atmosphere, the queen’s presence was grounded, maternal even. It was hard not to feel a little at ease.

Frigga, seemingly reading the mood, smiled faintly. "You have a strength about you, dearest. Something I see, even in the way you carry yourself, the way you’ve managed to survive what you’ve been through. You may think you’re just a mortal, but I sense something different in you."

You peeked out from behind the screen, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What, you mean I’m some kind of hero-in-the-making?"

Frigga’s eyes glinted with wisdom, a knowing smile on her lips. "Not exactly a hero. But there’s more to you than meets the eye. The bond between you and the artifact... It’s no coincidence. There’s something in your soul that the artifact recognized. Something ancient and powerful." She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, almost as if she were considering the weight of her words. "And something that might be more connected to Asgard than you realize."

You tugged the tunic over your head and emerged from behind the screen, feeling more yourself in the simple yet elegant clothes. "Connected to Asgard? You mean the whole ‘grand destiny’ speech? Because I’m still waiting for the part where I get my cape and superpowers."

Frigga’s smile softened. "Not quite that. But there’s a connection in you, something unseen. My gift of sight allows me to see beyond the surface—into the hearts and souls of others. And I’ve seen it in you."

You paused, looking at Frigga in surprise. "Wait, you’re telling me you can see... beyond your eyes? Like, the future? Or some deep, dark secret about my life?"

Frigga chuckled gently, her gaze never leaving yours. "No, nothing like that. But I can see the essence of who someone truly is. And you... you have strength that even you don’t fully understand yet. It’s as though you’ve always been destined to walk a path that will lead you here, to this moment. You may not see it yet, but I do."

You were quiet for a moment, letting the weight of Frigga’s words settle in. "I guess I never really thought of it that way," you murmured. "I’m just a regular-sized human being from Earth—or, Midgard as you say. Never thought I'd be standing here, in the middle of a royal family’s palace, about to face some huge trial... and all because of a shiny rock I picked up on vacation."

Frigga smiled warmly, her eyes full of understanding. "You may not see it now, but perhaps the journey you are on will help you understand your place in this world—here, with us, with the Asgardians. And in time, you’ll understand why the artifact chose you. Everything happens for a reason, my dear. Even if that reason is something you can't yet comprehend."

There was a long silence as Frigga finished adjusting your outfit, and then stepped back to admire her work while you studied yourself in the mirror, noting how the robe cascaded around you with almost divine grace. The robe felt both foreign and natural on your body. The cool fabric against your skin gave you a sense of being part of something larger—something ancient. It was as if you were wearing a garment that had been crafted not for you, but for a version of yourself you hadn’t yet discovered.

Frigga’s eyes softened as she gazed at you. “It suits you,” she said gently. “Simple, yet powerful. A reflection of your true strength.”

You smiled faintly. "Strength, huh? I might need a lot of that. Mentally, especially."

Frigga laughed softly, a sound full of affection. "Yes, perhaps you will. But you are capable, and you will face this trial with courage. Trust in yourself."

You gave a hesitant nod, feeling a mix of nerves and determination wash over you. "Thank you, Your Majesty. For everything."

Frigga placed a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but kind. "It is my duty, child. Know that you are not alone, no matter what happens in that cave."

As you turned to leave, the queen's voice stopped you for a moment. "Remember, this trial is not just about strength. It’s about finding who you truly are."

You gave her a small smile. "I’ll keep that in mind." With one last glance at Frigga, you walked toward the door, ready to face whatever awaited you in the Hollow of Trials.

Frigga led you through the palace, her presence calm and steady despite the looming uncertainty of what was to come. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, but Frigga’s quiet confidence was a grounding force.

“You’ll need to remain calm,” She said, her voice soft but firm as you walked down the stone corridors toward the cave. “The sacred cave will reveal to you the truth of the artifact, but it will test you. Tests are not always kind, but they are necessary.”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. You hadn’t expected it to feel this real, this heavy, despite the absence of a clear threat. It was as though the cave itself was waiting for you, and you weren’t sure you were ready to meet whatever it held.

“The trials within will challenge your mind, your body, and your spirit. But most importantly, it will reveal the bond between you and the artifact, and the deeper purpose it holds for you. To the land of Asgard, to the ancient power that lies beneath,” Frigga continued, her gaze distant for a moment. “The scales of Níðhöggr are not just a relic of old, they are a key to understanding the future. You must enter the cave, and what you see may shock you, but you mustn’t lose yourself in it.”

The more Frigga spoke, the more you felt the weight of the task before you. “What exactly will happen when I enter?” you asked, your curiosity mixed with an edge of nervousness.

“You will be shown what lies dormant within you,” Frigga explained, “The cave is connected to the heart of Yggdrasil itself, and it will guide you through what you need to see. Focus. Don’t let fear take hold.”

You reached the entrance to the cave—a massive opening, shrouded in mist. The walls seemed to breathe, pulsating softly, almost as if welcoming you into their depths.

You swallowed hard. “I’m ready.” You weren’t sure if that was true, but the words felt like something you needed to say.

⠀⠀

They arrived at the entrance to the cave—an imposing archway shrouded in mist and darkened stone. The air felt thicker here, charged with an almost tangible energy that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Frigga paused, giving you a steady, reassuring glance before stepping back to lean against the stone just outside the entrance.

“You must enter alone,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but firm. “You will know when the time comes to act. Trust yourself, and remember what I’ve told you.”

You gave a nod, a mix of apprehension and determination in your heart. You stepped forward, crossing the threshold of the cave. As your foot touched the cool stone floor, a slight chill seemed to seep into your bones. You shivered but didn’t stop.

The inside was dim, shadows stretching from the walls as if the cave itself had a life of its own. The faint glow from the artifact around your neck illuminated the path before you, casting eerie reflections against the wet stone. You continued to move deeper into the cave, the silence pressing in on you like a weight.

As you ventured deeper, you could feel the air grow colder, and you felt the pulse of the artifact beneath your skin. The longer you walked, the stronger the pull—it was as if it was calling you, urging you toward something deep within the cave.

A sudden voice broke the stillness, echoing off the walls.

“Are you really planning to do this alone, little mortal?”

You spun around, startled. Before you could even process who—or what—it was, your instincts kicked in. A sudden rush of panic and irritation propelled your fist forward, swinging at the mysterious figure standing in the shadows.

But just as your punch came within inches of its target, you froze, your eyes going wide.

Loki stepped forward into the faint light, a sly smile curling at his lips, completely unfazed. The blow had missed him by mere inches, and he watched with amusement as you lowered your fist in realization.

“Loki?” you asked, voice tinged with irritation. “What are you doing here? I thought your mother said I had to do this on my own.”

Loki didn’t skip a beat. “Oh, she did, didn’t she? But I thought I’d just... make sure you’re not getting yourself into trouble. After all, we wouldn’t want you to get lost in here or something of the sorts.”

You blinked, still trying to steady your breath. “You’re not subtle.”

Loki’s grin widened, clearly unbothered. "I already told you, subtlety is overrated."

Suddenly, you felt a surge of irritation—at yourself, for being startled so easily—and without thinking, you swung out with a fist, aiming straight for him.

You didn’t even land a punch.

Loki’s grin only grew as he effortlessly dodged the swing, leaning to the side with the fluid grace of someone who had seen this kind of thing before. "Is that your idea of defending yourself, mortal?" he teased, standing completely still as your fist missed by inches.

You froze for a moment, eyes wide with embarrassment. "I wasn’t... I was just—"

"—Trying to punch me? Well, I suppose it was a valiant effort," Loki said, unruffled, his expression mocking yet somehow fond. "But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hit me."

You scowled, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind, thanks."

Loki chuckled softly at your annoyance. "You’ll need a lot more than a surprise swing to face what’s ahead, mortal. But don’t worry—I'll be here to help," he added, his voice turning more serious, though there was still that underlying amusement in his tone.

You scowled, feeling your blood rise to your cheeks. “Great. First, I punch a god, now I’m being scolded and tailed by one.”

Loki smirked, clearly entertained by your flustered reaction. “And here I thought I was the deranged one.”

You crossed your arms, doing your best to hide your embarrassment. “Well, you are.”

“Only on special occasions.” Loki chuckled, his grin widening. “Now, let’s get on with this, shall we? I’ll stay close in case you need me... even if you insist on attempting to hit me again.”

“Oh trust me, I’d love to make you my personal punching ball. But you’re not supposed to be here, Your Highness,” you said, your voice firmer this time. “This is my trial, not yours.”

Loki’s smile faltered just slightly, but he quickly recovered, his eyes glinting with a mixture of mischief and something else. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m not here to interfere. Just think of me as an... observer. I’m actually quite good at observing, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fine, but you stay out of my way, Peeping Tom. I’m not in the mood for your tricks.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he stepped closer, seemingly unbothered by your resistance. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. Who else could keep you company on this grand adventure? Your noble Asgardian family? Heimdall is too busy watching the horizon, and moth—Frigga, well, she’s always so proper.” He gave a dramatic roll of his eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”

You didn’t know whether to be frustrated or amused, but you felt a little of the tension in your chest ease up. “Fine. But if you do anything to make this harder than it already is, I swear I’ll—”

“—you’ll what? Throw me out of here?” Loki interrupted with a soft chuckle. “You can try, but I’m rather skilled at slipping past... inconveniences.”

Just then, they heard Frigga’s voice echo from outside the cave, calling out in a tone that barely masked her amusement. “Loki, if you’re going to follow her, at least try to make yourself discreet.”

Loki’s grin widened as he turned to you. “See? Like I told you, not subtle at all.”

You huffed but followed, rolling your eyes as you muttered under your breath, "I’d rather be doing this on my own."

Loki’s soft laugh echoed around you. "Oh, I’m sure you would, but where’s the fun in that?"

You gave him a pointed look before stepping deeper into the cave, determined not to let his presence distract you. The further you ventured, the more the air seemed to hum with energy, the walls of the cave narrowing around you as if closing in, but you kept your focus.

Loki followed closely behind, his presence bringing a mix of annoyance and reluctant comfort.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do here,” you said after a moment, your voice a little softer.

Loki raised an eyebrow, the humor in his voice fading for just a moment. “You’ll know. Trust me. The artifact has a way of showing you what you need to see.” He paused, then added, “And if you don’t, well, I’ll be here to make sure you don’t do anything... rash.”

You sighed, your eyes scanning the dark cave around them. Whatever was about to happen, you were ready—or at least, you hoped you were.

The further you ventured into the cave, the more surreal it became. The air grew cooler, and the light seemed to dim as you descended deeper into the cavern. Soon, you emerged into an expansive, otherworldly space. The chamber stretched high above you, the walls lined with shimmering minerals that cast faint glows, giving the place a mystical feel.

At the center of the cavern was a clear, glowing pool of water, rippling ever so slightly as if something ancient and powerful stirred beneath its surface. The water shimmered with an eerie blue light, reflecting the faint beams of light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling. The surroundings were so calm, so peaceful—it almost seemed too good to be true.

“This is it?” you asked, taking in the sight. You felt a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Loki, who had been walking in silence beside you, stopped a few steps ahead, eyeing the pool with a thoughtful expression. “Yes. The pool of trial,” he said, though his voice was laced with a touch of amusement. “Step into the water. It will reveal what you need to face.”

You froze, your heart sinking as you stared at the pool. “Wait, step in? That?” You gestured toward the glowing water, the nervous energy creeping up your spine. “What if it’s, I don’t know, scalding? What if it burns me?” You glanced at him with wide eyes. “I’m not exactly in the mood to be turned into a crispy bacon today, thank you very much.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your concerns. “You’re overthinking this,” he said, his voice laced with mild amusement. “It’s not as dangerous as it looks.”

Your anxiety didn’t seem to ease. You slowly stepped toward the water, your eyes scanning the surface for any signs of heat or danger. “You’re sure it won’t burn me? Because I’m really not equipped for magical burns.”

Loki watched you, fighting back a grin. “You’ll be fine. It’s not as dramatic as you're imagining.”

Still, you hesitated, your heart racing. Your mind ran wild with all the possibilities—maybe it wasn’t just water. Maybe it was some sort of curse in disguise. Maybe it was boiling acid that would eat through your skin. Or worse, maybe it was a test to see how long you could stand the pain before... You shivered at the thought.

As you took a tentative step forward, Loki raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little water?”

You shot him a glare. “I’m not scared. I’m just being cautious. There’s a difference.”

Loki rolled his eyes dramatically. “Oh, please.” Before you could respond, before you even had the chance to think it through, he took a sudden step forward and with a swift motion shoved you into the pool, sending you stumbling into the water.

“Loki!” you yelped, flailing in surprise, your feet slipping beneath you as the cool water splashed around you. The shock of the sudden fall took the breath out of you as you splashed into the pool, sputtering as you broke the surface.

Loki stood at the edge, watching you with a satisfied grin, arms crossed. “You were taking too long,” he said, unfazed by your glare. “Besides, you were overthinking it.”

You glared at him, brushing your wet hair out of your face. “I wasn’t overthinking! You just pushed me in without warning!”

“Really now,” Loki drawled, his smirk widening as he noticed your flustered expression. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you would have acted on your own? Consider it a favor—one I’m sure you’ll thank me for later.”

You were drenched now, water dripping down your clothes, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sting in your chest at the sudden, unexpected splash. “I was thinking about it... slowly.”

Loki chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No time for slow thinking. Now, let’s see what happens next, shall we?”

⠀⠀

As you mourned your state, the cold rippled across your skin, but it wasn’t the chill that caught your attention. The water around you began to shimmer, glowing brighter with every passing second. The air itself seemed to hum, pulsing with an energy you couldn’t quite comprehend. Slowly, an aura of light began to envelop you—faint at first, but growing steadily stronger. Your body began to glow, not with harsh light, but with an ethereal radiance, as though the northern lights had taken form within you. Soft, shifting hues—pink, green, blue, and violet, colors reminiscent of the Bifrost—wove through your skin, with a faint touch of gold cascading across your form like the flowing branches of a great tree, stretching to every inch of your being.

The glow, fluid and seamless, surrounded you in ribbons of light, as if you were the very embodiment of the auroras themselves. For a fleeting moment, it was as though you were no longer entirely tangible. Your edges blurred, your form rippling like water, the colors of the aurora intertwining with the essence of your very being. You seemed weightless, suspended between realms, as though the cave had absorbed you into its ancient roots, your presence melding with the very magic of the place.

Your glow was hypnotic, a thing of beauty and power. You seemed both present and absent, solid and ethereal, bathed in the light of a thousand unseen stars. The colors shifted and swirled, weaving through you, a dream only half-remembered, a story half-told. The entire cavern seemed to hold its breath, caught in the magic radiating from you.

Loki barely noticed the way his breath caught in his chest. “By the Norns,” he muttered under his breath.

For the first time in a long time, Loki felt small.

His gaze was locked on you, entranced. He had seen many forms of magic before, but nothing like this. It was as if you were a bridge, a living conduit for powers older than time itself. The air around you thickened, vibrating with an ancient force that seemed to pulse in time with your heartbeat. It was a weighty energy, something primordial, something far beyond the grasp of any ordinary god.

There was something more, something familiar, yet elusive. A pull, deep within him, that resonated with the core of his being. For a moment, he almost felt as though he were standing before something divine, something ancient beyond measure. The glow around you flickered briefly, revealing an intricate symbol—tree-like, its roots sprawling across your form like a reflection of your nervous system. It was so subtle, so fleeting, that Loki almost questioned if it had been real. A vision? A trick of the light? But the connection, the sensation, was undeniable. You were tied to something vast, something far older than anything he had ever encountered.

Then, as the colors of the aurora deepened, he could have sworn he saw it—the roots of Yggdrasil, stretching across the cavern, whispering through the light, intertwining with your very essence. The vision was brief, but the connection between you and the great tree was unmistakable. You were no longer merely a mortal. You were something far more. Something much greater.

Loki snapped out of his trance, shaking himself from the dizzying pull of your presence. His thoughts needed to settle, but the image of you, radiant and unknowable, had left an indelible mark on his mind. You weren’t just a mortal anymore. You were tied to something far greater than any of them. Something even he couldn’t comprehend.

But then, there was a shift.

The air in the cavern crackled with magic, and for a moment, Loki could only watch, intrigued, as you glowed with an otherworldly light. Your body shimmered like the northern lights, colors shifting in mesmerizing waves, casting ethereal reflections across the water. He couldn’t deny the effect it had on him—your beauty was undeniable, but it was the strange, potent magic swirling within you that truly captured his attention.

A subtle distortion rippled across your body as the pendant around your neck began to pulse, glowing with an intensity that made the air around them feel charged. Loki narrowed his eyes, sensing something was about to happen. This wasn’t just a glowing display of power—it was something deeper.

The pendant’s magic stirred, and from the center of your chest, a shadowy, serpent-like form emerged. It moved sluggishly at first, as though testing the air, then, with an unnerving speed, it coiled outward, slipping from the pendant like a living nightmare. Loki’s eyes flashed with surprise as the serpent’s body unfolded, scales shimmering with a dark iridescence, its glowing eyes narrowing as it circled the room ominously. It didn’t seem like a natural creature; more like a manifestation of some ancient magic.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Loki mused, his tone light but edged with intrigue. He watched the serpent glide through the air, its tail cracking against the cave walls with a hiss that seemed to rattle the very stone. “Should I be worried?”

He wasn’t exactly concerned—it was just another magical oddity—but there was something about the way it moved that made his curiosity flare. He had seen many strange things in his long life, but this? This was unlike anything he’d encountered before.

He looked to you for a reaction, but your gaze was locked on the serpent, your expression a mixture of awe and hesitation.

For a moment, the serpent paused, hovering directly above you, its eyes fixated on your face. It was as if it was waiting for something—waiting for you. The air grew thicker, charged with a tension that Loki could almost taste. Then, without warning, the serpent lunged, its massive body streaking toward you like a bolt of lightning.

Loki’s eyes widened, his reflexes kicking in as he moved forward, his hand outstretched, ready to intercept. But before he could act, the serpent vanished into your body, slipping right through you with eerie ease. The force of its intrusion jolted you, and you were thrown backward, crashing into the water with a splash that sent ripples across the surface.

Loki stood at the edge of the pool, momentarily stunned. His pulse quickened as he peered into the water, watching you disappear beneath the surface. For a split second, he wondered if he'd misjudged the situation—if he had waited too long to intervene.

The seconds stretched on like an eternity before, finally, you resurfaced.

Your appearance was… quite different from before. The faint glow that had enveloped your body earlier remained faintly, but now it clung to you like a second skin, subtle and ethereal. Your hair, damp and flowing around you, cascaded in waves down your back, each strand catching the light in a way that made you look almost unreal—like a siren from the depths of myth. Your robe, soaked through, clung to your form in a way that left little to the imagination and left the god breathless, and the water that trickled down your skin only seemed to enhance the otherworldly glow that surrounded you.

Your eyes met his, their usual sharpness now softened by the strange, lingering magic that swirled through you. There was a quiet moment between them, one that felt far too heavy for the situation at hand. Loki’s gaze lingered on you—on the way the water clung to your skin, tracing every line of your form, on the way your wet hair shimmered in the dim light.

For the first time, he felt something stir within him that wasn’t just idle curiosity or his usual inclination to tease. His eyes flickered downward, and a rush of warmth settled in his chest as the realization hit him like a force of nature.

You were stunning. No—more than that. You were... captivating.

It was the kind of attraction that came suddenly, like the snap of a string. He didn’t want to admit it, especially not to himself, but there it was. The light clinging to your skin, the way your body moved through the water, the delicate way your robe shifted, revealing more than it concealed—it was impossible to ignore.

Loki swallowed, his pulse quickening before he could rein in his thoughts. Focus, he told himself, but it was harder than usual.

His mind raced as he forced a casual smirk on his face, his usual playful tone returning. “That was... certainly a display. You might want to be careful about who—or what—you attract next time.” His gaze flicked over you, lingering just a second longer than he intended, before he shifted back to his usual playful teasing.

He wasn’t sure if he was still speaking about the magic or the effect you had on him. Maybe both.

You stared at him, your expression unreadable, still trying to compose yourself, but the moment of vulnerability—the way your eyes still held that same faint, ethereal glow—stuck with him. It was difficult to keep his mind from drifting back to the image of you, glowing like some otherworldly being.

Loki scoffed softly to himself, shaking off the sudden jolt of desire that had swept through him. He was Loki, after all. He was in control. But as he turned away, he couldn’t deny that something had shifted in his perception of you. Whatever power you had, whatever strange magic clung to you, it was only amplifying the attraction he hadn’t quite wanted to acknowledge.

It was a dangerous thought, one he didn’t dare explore too deeply just yet.

Your voice, though still shaken from the strange encounter, snapped him from his thoughts. “What just happened?”

Loki stepped closer, his gaze sharp and laced with amusement as he took in your glowing form. “Well, it appears you’ve made quite the impression,” he remarked, his tone light but tinged with intrigue. “I’d say I’m almost envious. Whatever that... entity was, it seems you’ve caught its attention—and perhaps more. Care to explain, or shall I start guessing?”

He crossed his arms, his mind already working through the possibilities, analyzing every detail. His gaze lingered on you a little longer than he intended, noting how the glow still radiated from your skin, subtle but undeniable.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of control. “That’s not exactly comforting, you know.”

“Not my problem,” Loki quipped, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “But I will admit, it’s an interesting little magic show you’ve got going on. I’m curious what comes next.”

Your eyes flickered with frustration, but you took a breath, regaining your composure as best you could. “I don’t know how many times I’m going to say it, but it seems it’s never enough: I didn’t sign up for this.”

Loki shrugged, his smirk curling wider. “Oh, I’d say you did more than that. At the very least, you provided some amusement.” He crouched near the edge of the pool, his gaze locking with yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “But I suppose you’ve earned a passing grade. It appears you’ve won its favor—or at least its tolerance.”

There was no immediate danger—just a strange, powerful magic coursing through you—but Loki’s mind spun with questions. And if he was being honest, there was something about you now, something different that made you undeniably more intriguing than before. He wasn't sure if it was the magic or your new... presence, but he couldn’t look away.

You wiped a droplet of water from your chin, your eyes still narrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. You didn’t appreciate being mocked, especially when you'd already gone through whatever strange ordeal had just occurred. But Loki, of course, couldn’t resist taunting you.

"Yeah, real funny, Loki," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I’m sure you're quite entertained by this, aren’t you?"

His grin widened, the gleam of mischief in his eyes unmistakable. "I’m simply admiring the show," he teased. "You know I’m an amateur of the fine arts. I barely get to witness such dramatic performances these days."

You stood there in the water, trying to reign in your frustration, a slow smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He was so confident—so smug—like he didn’t have a care in the world. You had a feeling he wasn’t quite expecting what was coming next.

"You do love a show, don’t you, Loki?" you said sweetly as you stepped closer to the edge of the pool, your posture shifting in a way that was almost predatory.

Loki, caught off guard by the tone of your voice, tilted his head, arching an eyebrow. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking over you with the same playful smirk. There was something about the way you moved—too graceful, too calculated—that gave him a sense of unease, but he couldn’t quite place why. His curiosity only deepened. You were as unpredictable as always, and that made you endlessly fascinating.

You braced yourself on the edge, pushing yourself up with a fluid motion, lifting your body out of the water slightly. Your eyes met his, and you leaned forward just enough for your faces to be mere inches apart. The air between you was charged, and you couldn't resist the chance to tease him back.

"You should really try it for yourself. It’s quite refreshing, being all… dripping wet," you murmured, your voice low and sultry, your lips barely brushing his as you spoke.

You tilted your head just slightly, allowing the water droplets on your skin to catch the light as you took another step closer. Your robe, still clinging to your form, glistened with water, and the ethereal glow clung to your skin like a second layer. Your eyes glinted with something so peculiar, and the slightest smile curved your lips. The air between you shifted, charged with tension, and Loki’s smirk faltered for a brief moment as you leaned forward just enough to invade his personal space.

"Hmm, I think you have," you teased, your voice low and enticing, drawing him in closer. You raised yourself a little higher, leaning just that bit more, your lips almost too close to his. "Maybe you even like it. Maybe you like watching me struggle helplessly..."

For a moment, Loki forgot the situation entirely. His gaze drifted downward to your lips, and he barely noticed the slight shift in your posture. You were so close now that his heartbeat was racing, his body nearly responding before his mind had a chance to react. It was that subtle, but enough to get Loki utterly captivated. She had ensnared him with a soft look, a playful gesture, and it was all too easy to get lost in your presence.

He wasn’t sure what was happening, but you were so close now—close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath, your scent all around him. Your lips were mere inches from his, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if you were actually going to kiss him. Without thinking, his gaze flicked up to meet yours, and your eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam, as if you’d caught him. You could see the effect you were having on him—how his usual sharp gaze had softened, how the mischievous glint in his eyes had been replaced with something distracted, almost dazed.

"And maybe you don’t mind being part of it every now and then."

Loki's eyes widened as he snapped out of his trance, a sensation of weightlessness overtaking him in a split second. "Wait, what—"

Without warning, you grabbed him by the arm, your grip surprisingly firm, and yanked him toward you. With a sudden, swift motion, you pulled him into the pool with you, his startled yelp cutting through the air as the water splashed around them. He stumbled in the wetness, head first.

“How’s the water temperature?” You now sat perched on the edge of the pool, smirking, the faint glow still clinging to your skin like a siren’s call. You casually flicked a few damp strands of hair from your face, your eyes twinkling with amusement.

Loki gasped and blinked, dripping water from his hair as he pushed himself up from the surface, wide-eyed and dripping wet. "You—" he sputtered, glaring at you in disbelief. "You tricked me!"

You tilted your head to the side, your smile widening. "Oh, I think you let yourself get tricked," you teased. "You were too busy being entertained to notice what was going on right in front of you. I must say, I now understand your point; truly a sight for sore eyes."

He shot you a glare, but the heat that had flooded his chest earlier was still there—this time, it wasn’t just irritation. His pride had taken a hit, but there was something else too. A burning sentiment that he desperately tried to repress now more than ever, should he let his impulses rise and take over to provoke something regrettable.

"You’re lucky I’m feeling generous," he muttered under his breath, but his gaze lingered on you just a moment too long.

You chuckled, your eyes dark with amusement. "Maybe you should pay attention next time," you said casually, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. "You can’t keep mocking me and not expect a little retaliation. But for now, I’d say that’s a win for me, don’t you think?"

He didn’t respond right away, his mind already racing with plans for payback. But as he stood up in the water, still dripping wet and irritated, he couldn't deny the stirrings of something else—something that was entirely more complicated than just his usual urge to tease you back. The whole encounter had left him... flustered, unsettled, and, if he was being honest, curious in a way he hadn’t expected.

As he clambered out of the pool, water dripping from his clothes, he realized that this little game between them was far from over. And next time, he was going to make sure you regretted it.

"Enjoy it while you can," Loki muttered darkly, locking his murderous gaze onto yours.

You simply grinned, your eyes sparkling with that same mischievous light that had drawn him in from the start. "Oh, I sure do."

Loki, still dripping wet and clearly irritated by the prank, stood tall, his posture rigid with the lingering desire to regain control. But instead of moving to challenge you, he took a moment, eyes narrowing, scanning you with an almost predatory intensity.

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, no longer the teasing trickster but something sharper—darker. “Your boldness is gonna lead to your imminent downfall,” His voice was low, but the air around them crackled with energy, his irritation mixing with something else.

Your grin faltered for just a moment as you met his gaze, unsure of what to make of his sudden change in demeanor. “Oh come on, I’m just having a bit of fun,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Loki’s lips twitched upwards, but it wasn’t a smile. More like a challenge. “You’re playing a dangerous game, and I’m starting to wonder if you even know the rules.”

You tilted your head, taking in his shift. He was still teasing, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—a sort of curiosity, an intrigue he was trying to hide behind his usual bravado. And perhaps, for the first time, you were sensing a crack in his usually confident demeanor.

As you stepped back, just a little, you could feel the weight of the moment, the tension in the space between you. Your earlier confidence began to waver as you picked up on the way he was looking at you, no longer merely amused but almost calculating.

"I’m not afraid of games," you said, your voice a little quieter now, with a faint edge to it.

Loki watched you for a long moment before he spoke again, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “You should be.”

Before you could react, he turned sharply, as if ending the conversation, and started to walk away, leaving you to wonder if that’s really the end of their playful rivalry—or if it was something else entirely, lurking behind a charade of endless banters.

⠀⠀

As the last echo of their footsteps in the cave's entrance faded behind them, Loki and you stepped into the bright light outside. The sun bathed the landscape in soft golden hues, a stark contrast to the strange, eerie atmosphere they'd just left behind. But both of you were still drenched, Loki’s clothes dripping with water and your posture slightly stiff from the tension of the ordeal.

You’d barely exchanged a word as you emerged, the weight of your previous interaction hanging between you. Neither of you could deny that something had shifted, something unresolved that neither was eager to discuss. Loki was lost in his thoughts, glancing sideways at you with an unreadable expression.

But as you approached the clearing, standing against a large stone formation was none other than Frigga. Her presence was calming, and yet there was a knowing look in her eyes that immediately set both of you on edge.

“You’ve both made it out, I see,” Frigga said, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of authority. “I trust everything went well?”

Loki’s lips twitched into a wry smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As well as can be expected, Mother,” he replied, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. The last thing he wanted was a conversation about what conspired within the confines of the underground chamber, or how the whole ordeal had affected him.

Frigga’s eyes shifted to you, a soft smile curving her lips. “And you, my dear? How do you fare after all that?”

You slowly met her gaze, still processing the surreal events of the day. “I’m... fine. Just a bit shaken, I think,” you said with a small, tight smile, the weight of the strange magic still lingering in your bones. “It was unexpected, to say the least.”

She nodded knowingly. “Magic always has a way of testing us when we least expect it. It’s not just about strength, but about understanding oneself in the face of the unknown.” She turned back to Loki, her expression softening. “You both seem... changed. A little more different than you were when you entered.”

Loki’s eyes flicked away from her, unwilling to admit anything. He didn’t like how much she could read into his silence. “We handled it,” he muttered, but it was clear to Frigga that he was brushing aside something deeper.

Her gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something serious in her eyes. “I can see that. But you seem… distracted.”

His shoulders tensed, and he tried to evade her penetrating stare with an insistent tone. “There’s nothing to tell, Mother.”

Frigga’s gaze sharpened for a moment, and she placed a hand on Loki’s arm, holding him there. “I can see the truth in your heart.” Her voice softened, as though speaking only for him.

His eyes flitted to you, then back to his mother. He couldn’t seem to hold her gaze for long, the truth of his feelings hanging just out of reach, even from him.

Sensing his reluctance to speak his mind, the queen decided to take a different approach. She raised her hand slightly, and with a simple wave of magic, she reached into Loki’s mind, transferring a glimpse of his own emotions to her. His confusion, his attraction, the pull that was impossible to ignore. She felt it all, a brief but powerful connection.

When she released him, Loki staggered slightly, blinking as though coming out of a trance. His gaze shifted uncomfortably. “You’re always meddling in my head.”

Frigga smiled gently, a knowing gleam in her eye. “It’s my job, my son. And sometimes, it’s necessary.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but halted his movement as she raised a hand. “Not now, Loki. Not yet.”

He was silent for a moment, his frustration clear. “Fine. But I’m leaving.”

She allowed him that moment, her expression a mixture of understanding and mild amusement. “Go, then. But I will be waiting for you when you’re ready to talk.”

Loki nodded curtly, shooting one last look at you before turning to leave in a hurry, no doubt eager to escape whatever thoughts his mother had stirred up within him.

Frigga turned to you with a soft smile, one that carried a quiet weight. “You’re handling this better than he is, I think.”

You chuckled softly, feeling the weight of everything you had gone through. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “But... it’s certainly complicated.”

She placed a hand on your shoulder as you began walking toward the throne room. “Indeed. But I have no doubt you’ll handle it well. Now, come. I believe there’s something we need to discuss regarding what happened.”

As they walked side by side, her voice rose again and took on a slightly teasing tone. “Though, I must admit, you two are quite the pair. Loki doesn’t often find himself so... ruffled. It seems you’ve caught his attention in more ways than one.”

You looked at her, surprised by the comment. “It’s not like that.”

Frigga raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up. “Isn’t it?”

You smiled wryly, unsure of how to respond, but the playful look in Frigga’s eyes made it clear that this conversation was far from over.

And as you approached the throne room, you couldn't help but wonder just how much Frigga truly saw.

⠀⠀⠀

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mountkennedie · 7 months ago

Text

Remember You

Loki x fem!reader

warnings: A N G S T but fluff at the end and like 1 swear word

Summary: You have known Loki since before, during, and after Thanos' torture

Word Count: 1.9k

A.N. Okay I hadn't seen Loki s2 yet for most of this so this is mainly from my own sick little brain. I think this is the saddest thing I have ever written. Enjoy! :)

Life was so simple when you both were just teenagers. Running around Asgard, playing jokes on unsuspecting kin. Practicing magic with Loki's mother, he was always so gifted. You tried as hard as you could but still couldn't fully grasp certain techniques. It didn't matter to him. He helped you gain strength in what you could do.

Those are the memories you held onto on nights like these. When the knowledge of his death would refresh itself in your mind. You still will not completely understand why he fell from the Bifrost. You wanted to hold Odin accountable, but you were merely a best friend of a prince, nothing more to your name. So you stayed up at night, making and remaking the same tricks he had shown you many years ago.

Soon, another dawn came, and you finished out another sleepless night. The circles under your eyes were only growing darker, but you did not pay it much mind.

"Lady Y/n," Thor called. You turned and faced the prince. "I have news you may like to hear."

"And you are sure? ...he lives?"

"Indeed," Thor placed a strong hand on your shoulder. He had a faint smile on his face for just a moment, but then it faded. "I wish my news could be completely good. However, though my brother lives, he is currently rampaging Midgard. I am being sent to bring him back home."

Your joy had overcame every sense. It took a moment to process the rest of what Thor had told you. But once it did, your face fell just the same, "He's what?"

"He has currently killed eighty-one people over the course of two days, Lady Y/n."

You did not want to believe it. You couldn't. Of course, Loki has gone too far before, but this was not of his nature. "That does not sound like him." You took a pause and looked at Thor with a very stern expression, "Bring him back to me."

"I will do what I can." With that, he left, and you sank to the floor. A part of you wanted to rejoice due to him still being a part of this world, but you knew it would be joy misplaced. He was currently terrorizing a planet. What can one say to that?

You visited Heimdall as often as you could. To checking on Loki as much as possible. The feeling of denial you originally bestowed upon him was confirmed one afternoon.

"The prince does not look the same to me as he always has. A veil is shielded over him."

Since that was observed, you held onto it like a strand of life. It provided you rest you terribly needed and slight solace until he was returned. The restlessness did indeed return, however. When the realization that someone had to have overcame the prince's strong will to make him do their bidding. The thought reclaimed the worry over your soul, and your small moment of 'peace' was over.

He is being returned today. You were not supposed to be anywhere near the Bifrost, as any civilian. But you were still as close as possible, which meant you were inside the castle walls. You had to conceal yourself behind a column as they entered. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. However, just like before, that joy was abandoned upon seeing Loki in chains.

You came out of your place of concealment when they had walked past you. You quickly flew to the throne room, where Loki was to be charged.

When you reached the doors, you were held back. "No civilians are allowed beyond this point," you were told by the guard.

"Allow her in," the voice of his mother. You turned and made eye contact with her, then curtsied. She came up to you and held onto your arm. She gave a quick squeeze and a weak smile. You both entered together and stood beside Odin.

"Why has she accompanied you?" He spoke in a sour tone. He did not care to even look in your direction.

"She has a right to be here," The Allmother responded. Odin dropped the matter, and a guard had entered the room.

"He is outside the doors, your majesty."

"Send him in." The guard nodded and turned. He left for a moment, and you noticed the queen inhaled deeply and fixed her posture.

The doors opened, and you held your breath. The sounds of the shackles echoed around the room. You felt your eyes grow heavy in tears, but you knew not to let even one drop. Odin showed no emotion on his throne, as if the man before him was not his own son.

"I really don't see what all the fuss is about." That's him. Your Loki, not that being on Midgard that hurt all those innocent people. His words flowed as they always had, but just like always, Odin was unaffected.

He made a remark to his mother. But once his eyes fell upon you, in that one moment, his confidence was struck. They remained on you for a moment more before continuing his charade with the king.

When the sentence was carried out, he looked for once, defeated. He looked to his mother, then to you one last time. Then, it was promptly removed from the throne room and into the dungeons.

A month has passed now. You finally learned the different times and schedules of the guards and were able to make a plan to get around them. With the lack of the Allmother's word, you were restricted entry just as before. But today, you were ready to strike once again.

Every other Tuesday at 3:45 pm, the guards will take a break. The break itself was unauthorized. However, you appreciated the obstruction to the rule since it gave you time. Once out of ear shot of the guards, you opened to heavy doors leading to the prisons beneath the kingdom.

The smell hit you first. A wave of different creatures, all perspiring in unity with one another. Your cloak, worn to conceal your identity, could only do so much in masking the odor. You had no clue which cell he would be in, but you believe the worst was behind you. With quick strides, the hunt began.

Should I ask for directions? you thought. Of course not! You are in the dungeons of Asgard not the village market! In your defense, the place was a maze. Crafted to confuse an inmate incase of its escape.

You continued on a few paces before turning a corner. Something caught your eye. Something was sticking out amongst all the other inmates. You followed that alluring feeling up to the cell you'd been looking for.

His back was faced to you, but you noticed upon you walking towards him. He looked up. "Has my mother sent a new morsel to keep me entertained?" He faced you with mock amusement. "Who are you supposed to be?"

You reached up and removed the hood from your head. His face changed from amused to confounded. He grew close to the wall, separating you two. "Is this some sort of trick? Who was put up to this?"

You took a moment to gather your words. "What do you mean? Do you not believe I have come?" Your voice was frail. You were not expecting this reaction from him at all.

"I believe the one that currently sits on the throne will stop at nothing to pin to the bottom of misery itself." He leaned down to get closer to your eye level, though the barrier still blocked you both. "And what have you got to prove you are not another game for me to lose?" His voice was cold. A part of you wanted to ask what Odin did to make him lose trust in everything before him. However, that was not what he wanted to hear right now.

You sucked in a breath and then held out your hand. You conjured a purple snake with green spots. The image you would always match with his green snake with purple spots. This was what he taught you about how to make one warm summer night.

When the memory was triggered, Loki nearly threw himself on the shield. Instead, he fell to his knees and got to the edge of the cell. "(Y/n)... oh (Y/n)... how did you even get in here?"'

"I snuck in. It took much more planning than you would have thought," Though he was still in captivity, you couldn't help but smile as you saw him. And most importantly, he saw you.

He shook his head, "I've missed you. But you shouldn't be here. I don't want," he looked around the room, "them to know of you too much."

"I know, but -" You heard a scuffle. "Shit, how long has it been? I think the new guards have been appointed. I have to go." You sped off, and from behind, you heard Loki hit the glass, then groan in pain. But you swore to yourself to return for him again.

So much had happened in the span of a month. Frigga was dead. Loki broke out of jail, and you, with your help, Thor, Jane, and him, made it to the other realm. After your part of the plan was complete, you were to return to Asgard and help defend it from any dark elves that could attack.

But now the three of them were supposed to return. You looked out, waiting to see Loki accompanying Thor. But we were met with only the older brother. When he crossed into the palace, you approached him.

He beat you to ask your question with an answer. "I regret to inform you that once more, my brother will not be returning home."

You didn't know if you thought it or screamed it, but the overwhelming feeling of dread was all you could express. How could this happen again? You had just gotten him back.

Odin was not acting like Odin. You could be losing yourself in grief and seeing your former- friend- everywhere. It was strange. You knew Odin was acting out of character, but to say he was acting like Loki was bold. Even for you.

So, it led you to confront the king after one of the plays had finished. "Allfather. I would like to request an audience." What you did not expect was for the king to accept.

The pair of you went into the palace, and there you confronted him. "This may come off as strange but -"

"I can't." You looked at him with a confused expression. "I can't keep lying. To you." The appearance of Odin melted away to reveal your former lov- friend. You didn't respond at first. Just stared, astonished.

"Please say something," he pleaded. Instead, you slapped him clean across the face. "I see how I deserve that." You brought him into your arms and held onto him close. The tears in my eyes overflowing down my face.

"Why didn't you tell me? At least me?" Your words were strung out slurred slightly. You just kept repeating your question, and he held you for a while until your breathing calmed down.

"I wanted to tell you. I wanted to explain everything to you. I wanted it all to be clear as day, especially for you. But I couldn't just yet. I needed to -"

You pulled back. "Wait," you interrupted, "If you're playing Odin. Then where's the real one?"

"Midgard."

"Loki..." you facepalmed.

"But he is being taken care of. They have these homes that take care of those who are later in life. He's fine," his voice was rushed.

You sighed and rested your head on his chest. "Don't die on me again. Or at least tell me when you plan to? I don't know. But whatever you do just," you look him in the eyes, "don't leave me again."

"I won't." If only that were true.

A.N. Hope this broke you the way it broke me lol

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 4 months ago

Note

Imagine if Jack, Tesla, Qin Shi and Queen of forgotten turn to kids thanks to Tesla invention by accident

-Thor and Lu Bu had been passing by when they heard loud shouting coming from Nikola’s lab, like a fight had broken out and the two quickly rushed, hoping to get in on the action.

-Only to find a child that looked strangely like you clinging to Loki while biting at his hand, “Get her off! She’s biting me!!”

-Three more children, ones that looked like Nikola, QSH, and Jack were also there. QSH was on the ground, holding his sides as he was laughing hard while Nikole was rambling a million miles per hour, trying to make sense of what happened while Jack was looking at his little hands.

-You had been with the other three, coming with QSH and Jack to see Nikola’s latest invention, which was supposed to prevent things like fruits and vegetables from aging too quickly.

-That’s when Loki showed up and decided to ‘help’ make the demonstration better by messing with the controls, after a small explosion the four of you had been turned into children and you immediately went on the attack, disciplining Loki.

-Thor picked you up off Loki, holding you by your waist and he was honestly a bit saddened, seeing one of the few warriors he admired and respected was a child again- he couldn’t fight you while you were like this.

-It was still you though as you turned, a dark and angry look in your eyes, “Put me down- I’m not finished with him yet.”

-Loki was nearby, hiding behind a couch, covered in bite marks, “She’s rabid I tell you!” your head snapped over at him and he squeaked, dropping down to hide.

-Thankfully Edison, Newton, and Marie were nearby in their own labs, and after a quick call they came over and saw what happened to the four of you.

-Marie couldn’t help but hug Nikola, thinking he was adorable while Loki came out, looking completely fine, patting the top of Jack’s head, “It is nice to see how cute you all were as children.” Jack said nothing but immediately pulled out a knife, which made Loki leap up and shriek in terror, clinging to Thor.

-The effects were only temporary, lasting just a few hours, but once back to normal, you took Lu Bu’s spear and turned to Loki who froze only for a moment before he ran out and you charged after her, “Get back here! You need to face the consequences of your actions!!”

-Nikola sighed softly, palming his face lightly before Thor, QSH, and Lu Bu followed after, to make sure you didn’t kill Loki, and to get a show in the ass beating he deserved while Jack and the scientists asked Nikola to show them what his machine was supposed to do, which he was more than happy to do.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror loki #ror thor #ror qin shi huang #ror nikola tesla #ror lu bu #ror jack the ripper

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imagineiwrotesomethingwell · 5 months ago

Text

'Goddess'

wc: 7,987 words content warnings: slow burn but not too bad, smut, afab reader (reader is referred to as a wife, queen, and woman multiple times), male masturbation, oral (both receiving), fingering (f receiving), mating bond, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, babes), something that might constitute as cum play???, overstim, mild dacryphilia, body worship, marking kink implied, cockwarming (?)

@allbymyself17 i am so so sorry this took so long, thank you for being patient with me 🙏

“The girl, in exchange for the tesseract,” Surtur booms, his voice deep and menacing as it rolls through the golden city. “She’d make a fine wife for one of your boys, aye, Odin? She’s got those birthing hips. A perfect breeder.”

You, held in Surtur’s massive paw, are too terrified to be offended.

Your day had started largely normal; breakfast with a friend, a stroll through the streets of your small town. But something had opened up beneath you, sucking you in, sucking you through dimensions, entire worlds. If you’d ended up damn near anywhere else, you’d be awed. But right now, you’re in the clutches of an 8,000 year old fire monster, high above Asgard, terror pulsing through your veins.

He seems to be using you as a bargaining chip, like these people know you, owe you something. But you’re too high up to hear much of anything until a raven-haired man floats up before you.

He’s exquisite, though you’re unwilling to say it aloud. He looks just the same as when you’d seen him on the news a few years ago after trying to take over the world; well, maybe not just the same. His hair is longer now, and he looks less cocky, more… tired. His helmet’s different- the horns are smaller now. And when he meets your eyes, their icy blue is filled with a soft sympathy. You’d scoff if you weren’t so frightened; Loki, the god who’d killed hundreds in the attack on New York alone, was sympathetic to you. Wow.

But he’s quickly joined by a much older god and his brother, Thor. Thor you knew from the news, too, but this old man -worn, aged, long grey hair and an eyepatch, mouth set in a stern line that makes you wonder if he ever smiled- you didn’t recognize him. But you assumed he was the Odin that Surtur had been addressing, and his one eye surveyed you like you were a piece of meat rather than a human.

“Deal,” Odin boomed back, and your stomach sank. Loki’s eyes went wide in response and he turned to the older god incredulously. Thor just seemed upset about this tesseract thing. Neither spoke, though, and Odin continued. “Give us the girl and we’ll give you the tesseract.”

And suddenly you’re falling. You’re screaming. Hurtling towards the flames that lick at Surtur’s legs. Your heart is in your throat and you’re certain the demon is still holding your stomach.

But just as quickly as Surtur’d dropped you, Loki caught you. You clung to him like a lifeline, a soft sob wrenching from your throat as you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on for dear life. And you know you should be afraid - this is the man who tried to enslave all of humanity, after all. But despite yourself, he feels… safe.

There’s an awful sound, like metal tearing, and then a deep, guttural cry of agony as Thor and Odin wrench the crown off Surtur’s head and the fire demon crumbles to ash. You see none of this, though, too busy crying into the neck of the god who caught you to fully process what’s going on. You’ll have to ask later (which, of course, means it’ll get more and more dramatic with each telling).

Loki carried you to the ground, holding you tightly; one arm under your knees, the other behind your back to hold you steady. He smelled good, though. Like smoke and petrichor and cinnamon. Autumn. You took comfort in it, let yourself be held, even as the trickster lighted on the dirtied cobblestones of his home city.

He made no move to put you down.

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Odin, on the other hand, had barely made it to the street before he’d begun shouting orders. You heard some things in a language you didn’t understand, and suddenly, everything was moving so fast.

Before you really could process, before you’d even stopped crying, your feet were on the ground. You were torn from Loki’s arms by a group of bustling, tutting ladies, all seeming very eager to get you out of the torn-down square. Loki looked as disconcerted as you felt, though you hoped you masked it better than him. He watched after you, his hand outstretched and his lips parted as if to call to you. But… How could he? He didn’t even know your name. You’d lost him in the crowd as the ladies led you away, their matching rose-colored gowns dragging through the debris as they huddled you towards the castle.

No one answered you when you asked what was happening, when you begged to go home. When the ladies had cooed at you in that language you didn’t understand and stripped you of your ash-covered jumper and jeans. They ran you a bath and you’d cried in it as they washed you, vigorous yet gentle.

But you kept thinking about Loki, even as you thought of the family and friends you didn’t know if you’d ever see again. You thought of his scent of soft autumn comfort while you thought about that stray cat you feed sometimes. You thought of his piercing blue gaze as you thought about the concert plans with your best friend that you wondered if you’d ever make.

You were still thinking about him when the ladies wrangled you into a red gown that accentuated your curves. You thought about how his arms felt around you, how his fingers felt when they’d run over your jumper as you’d been pulled away. You were lost in thought, in a strange feeling that’d built up in your chest since you’d left Loki in the rubble of this golden city. You wondered why you’d felt so safe in his arms.

One of the ladies painted your lips and eyes, another wove flowers into your hair, and a third painted your nails a sparkling, galaxy-like black that shone a thousand colors when the light shifted. All thoughts of the trickster god had momentarily flown from your mind when you’d seen your reflection.

That’s where you are now, staring at yourself in that flowing, crimson gown while you try to make sense of the afternoon and evening after Surtur’s apparent defeat. The ladies have long since left, clearly done with their work on you.

You run your fingers over the chiffon sleeves and layers on the dress, your mind spinning. You look incredible, you really do. They’d done something to your eyes that made them pop in the most exquisite way, and your every insecurity was drowned out by the gorgeous, elaborate costume that accentuates your chest and hips deliciously. Every motion has the embroidered crystal beads on the corseted bodice catching in the firelight and the skirt swishes around your ankles with the most lovely, satisfying sound. You’re admiring it when you hear the door open.

You turn to find yourself locked into that piercing blue gaze, and that feeling in your chest multiplies tenfold. Your breath catches as your eyes trail over him, and you hate the way your heart speeds up, just a little bit.

He, too, is wearing crimson, but it’s a version of his armor. You assume it’s something similar to human soldiers wearing their dress uniforms for their weddings and special occasions. His horned helmet/visor/headband/thing is in his hand at his side and his hair is falling around his face in silky, ebony waves. He looks- well, he looks like a prince, which you suppose he is, isn’t he?

It’s infuriating.

“You look incredible,” he says softly, his eyes trailing over you appreciatively. His eyes are wide and he looks almost awed, but you discard the urge to preen. He’s a prince, after all. He’s probably trying to get in your pants.

“What am I doing here?” you reply, your voice curt and cold. May this very well get you beheaded? Yes, possibly. But… no buts. Cool yourself. Jesus Christ. So you tack on, “Sir,” at the end, because you’ve never been in front of royalty before! How are you meant to address him?

He chuckles softly, and that thing in your chest happens again. “Please, don’t call me sir,” he says, stepping closer but keeping his distance. Playing the perfect gentleman. “Just Loki. And… No one told you?”

Your brow pinches and you reach a hand up to your throat instinctively. You grip the small pendant of your necklace, using the semi-sharp edge of the stone to ground yourself. “No one told me anything.”

He looks put out at that, his own brow pinching for a moment as he thinks. But then his face smooths once more and his eyes find yours. “What’s your name?”

“Answer my question first,” you challenge, keeping your chin high despite the way your defiance frightens you slightly. He just nods, though.

“You’re to be wed.”

Your heart stops. You feel it stop. And then you’re all but shrieking his words back at him, and everything is going far too fast. Your heart goes from stopped to a million miles an hour in seconds, and your mind does the same. You’re panicking, on the verge of some kind of attack, and you’re unaware of everything around you. Your breathing is too fast and your hands are shaking and the walls are closing in, aren’t they? It’s so dark and everything feels wrong and fuck why does your skin feel like that? I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t-

And then there’s a hand on your shoulder, and that warmth in your chest spreads everywhere. It’s like you’ve drunk too much wine, but in the best way. Warm and fuzzy and soft, everything feels like it could be good now. Your mind is quiet and your body is still, your thoughts serene and your breathing calm. When you open your eyes, they’re wonder-filled and wild, perfectly mirroring the icy gaze across from you.

“Breathe, Little Fox,” Loki whispers, his hand never straying from your shoulder. Never touching your skin, never pushing his limits. But his chest is heaving, too, and his eyes are wide and tinged with something almost… dark. Dark, but not frightening.

The moment ends all too soon as Loki steps back and away, his hand dropping down to his side. Your skin tingles where his warmth had been, and by the way he’s rubbing his fingers together, you think it feels the same for him.

“What’s your name?” he asks again, his voice softer this time. Almost… small. His eyes seem to light up when you whisper it, still confused and half in shock, and he repeats it. It sounds almost reverent, and it does something funny to your stomach to hear your name fall off his tongue.

Fuck.

“Why am I- ‘to be wed’?” you ask softly once your heart rate has returned to something normal.

He opens his mouth for a second and closes it, furrowing his eyebrows. “Do you want the simple answer or the complex one?” he asks, and you’re close enough to smell him once more. He smells less like smoke now, but you find you miss it.

“Simple,” you murmur, pushing away thoughts of the god’s smell.

He lifts his hand, pressing it against the center of his own chest. “Do you feel that? In here? The warmth that’s been here since you arrived in Asgard.”

You look down at his hand, the kind of hand that would have normally had you texting your friends while squealing in your bed about the sinful things you intended to do to the man attached.

Fuck, now you’re thinking about his hands? Jesus, you need help. Fuck.

You shake it off and nod, returning your gaze to his eyes, ignoring the way you can feel your cheeks heat. You just pray he can’t see it.

He smiles slightly, and you catch his gaze flick for half a second from your face to your chest. Just for a moment, but you catch it, and you only blush deeper. And of course his smile grows, and you realize he’s enjoying flustering you. This should be fun. Not.

“What is it?” you prompt, clearing your throat and shifting on your feet. You swear his eyes glow for a moment, but it’s gone before you can blink.

“Short and simple answer, darling, is that Asgardians mate for life,” he all but purrs. “And you are my mate, Little Fox.”

You scowl, but your heart races. Because fuck that voice… He knows what he’s doing. So you glare at him. “And if I don’t marry you?”

His smile falters for a moment, something sympathetic passing over his features. “That… Asgardian law is very clear on this. I’m afraid you have no choice, darling. Having said that, the law does not extend to anything past a wedding. It must be had within a week of the bond being found, but there is no time constraint on… consummation.”

You flush, feeling your neck and ears burn at the implication of your words. And of course your brain goes to all sorts of wicked places, places where you wonder what else that silver tongue of his can do, be it in your ear or between your- oh my god you’re so fucking screwed.

“I’m not Asgardian,” you argue, trying not to let your sinful thoughts show. You swear he knows, though. It’s bullshit.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says, firm but gentle. “You are my mate, and you are to be my wife. My father has already prepared everything, and my mother will be here in a moment to explain to you the vows and traditions.”

With that, he steps back away from you, and that warmth in your chest dulls a little. You don’t like it, but you bite your tongue. When he reaches the door, he turns back to look at you for a moment.

“For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “you really do look exquisite. And- and I’m sorry.” He’s gone before you can respond.

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Frigga is a good woman. She’s got kind eyes, and you love her immediately. You decide that she’ll be an easy person to care for, even in this new place you seem to be… stuck in.

The wedding went off without a hitch. You’d managed to not vomit or flee as you’d spoken the words, as they’d tied that cloth over your hands. Holding Loki’s hands, though, felt like heaven. Which is weird. Because it’s fucking hand holding. But it made that thing in your chest -the bond, evidently- get all happy and fuzzy, and it nearly bubbled over.

Loki seemed to have had the same reaction, too, because he was fighting a smile all through the wedding and the reception, during which you did drink too much wine.

By the mercy of some god (definitely not Odin), you’d woken alone and fully clothed, which told you two things. One, that you’d not been able to untie the bodice of the gown, and two, that your husband had said “nope, she’s drunk, ain’t happening”, which you found comforting.

Because as the days after your wedding passed, as you came to learn the halls of the castle and the names of the servants and maids and guards, you remembered bits and pieces of your drunken haze. In which you did, in fact, attempt to bed your husband. It was a sloppy attempt, with a shitty human pickup line, but it had made him blush, and as humiliating as the memories were, you held on to the one of him flushing.

You ate dinner with him every night, mostly in your bedchambers because he didn’t seem the type for formal dining. He liked to sit at the foot of your bed to eat while you sat on the bed and did the same. And you found yourselves talking each night. For hours.

Loki was easy to talk to, which you found surprising. You mentioned this to him once, but he’d just waved it off and changed the topic, trying and failing to hide the blush that you so loved. You learned that night that he’s fairly bad at taking compliments from everyone but his mother, and you quite enjoy watching him become flustered from something as simple as noting how the tunic he wore complimented his eyes.

You talked about everything and nothing at all. You learned about him, his family, his court. He taught you Asgardian laws and you shared your favorite stupid human laws. He brought games, too, finding human games to be far more fun than Asgardian ones. (“Ours all have swords and knives, I quite like this… fish game. Go fish!”) And the more you talked, the warmer the bond felt in your chest. It never became uncomfortable until he left for his own bed each night.

You hated it then. You hated lying awake, staring at the ceiling, that strange buzzing filling your chest, your body, your cunt. Hated not knowing if it took as much for him to settle down as it did for you. Hated the way you knew where his bedchambers were but had never dared cross the threshold after his lights were out. Hated how you came each night on your own hand, with his name on your lips, wishing he were filling you, knowing for a fact that he’d reach every spot you couldn’t.

Days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you’d been a wife for three months. And yet every night, he slept in his own room.

You’re sick of it.

“Stay here tonight,” you say confidently -though you feel anything but- as he piles up the empty bowls from the desserts you’d stolen from the kitchens. Loki’s hands faltered and the bowls nearly toppled, but he caught them just in time. Your chest swells with pride at the idea that maybe, just maybe, you have the same effect on him that he has on you.

“I can’t do that,” he replies. His voice sounds different than it had a moment ago. Rougher.

“Why not?” you ask, keeping up the false confidence to hide the slight nerves. Hell, not slight. Fuck, does he not think you’re pretty anymore? Did he just like the gown? No, that must not be it, he compliments you every day. So what-

“Because I have enough trouble controlling myself as it is, Little Fox,” he says, and his voice is definitely rough now. His back is to you and you can see how tense his shoulders are.

You flush, though, because… Clearly he still thinks you’re pretty. So you switch tactics, because at this point, you don’t want to spend another night alone. The bond is always pulling so hard, making you ache for him.

“Loki,” you whisper, rising to your knees on the side of the bed. You reach out with a surprisingly steady hand and rest it on his shoulder, feeling his breath hitch, feeling the bond twitch inside you. “Please. I don’t want to sleep without you.”

Before the bowls have even hit the ground, his lips are on yours. You register the crash and shatter of the ceramic, but your hands are in his hair and you don’t care.

He tastes like cinnamon and apples, like the pie you’d both devoured. But there’s something else, too, something you can taste when his fingers tangle in your hair and tug your head back slightly, using the new angle to sweep his tongue into the deepest crevices of your mouth, something purely Loki. You whimper, and he swallows it with a groan, stepping closer and pressing his body flush against yours. The hand not in your hair grips your hip, kneading gently as he holds you in place against him.

His hair feels like silk between your fingers and you tug, too, and you’re rewarded with the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard. You tug again, this time using your body to pull him over you. He complies with a growl, and you whimper again as he cradles your head ever so gently, laying you back so carefully against the pillows. His lips never leave yours as his body cages you in. His knees are on either side of your hips and the hand that’s not on your head traces gently up your side, always stopping just short of your breast.

You kiss him hungrily, greedily. Your hands roam recklessly, all care for propriety gone because fuck the bond is so strong and all it wants is more and you whine in frustration as his thumb brushes your ribs again without going all the way.

“Please,” you gasp against his lips, dragging the lower between your teeth before releasing it gently. “Touch me, Loki. I need it. I need you.”

He pulls away just enough to look at you, and you hardly recognize the man above you. His eyes are wild, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see the blue. “I can’t,” he growls softly, his chest heaving against yours. “There are things you don’t know yet.”

“Then tell me,” you beg, fingers clawing at the buttons of his shirt. He growls and his hand leaves your hair, making you whine again at the loss. Quickly, he grabs your hands in his one and pins them above your head, the hand on your ribs tightening.

“Don’t push me, Little Fox,” he murmurs, dropping his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. His hand never loosens around your wrists as he whispers, “humans react differently to godly spend. Ordinarily, it’d just be a powerful aphrodisiac. But you’re my mate, so that’s not how it’ll work.”

You’re trying to pay attention, really you are, but you can taste his breath on your lips and you can’t help yourself straining your neck to kiss him. He groans against your lips and you whimper at the taste of him before he nips your lips and pulls away, leaving you panting and desperate for more.

“You need to listen to me,” he says gruffly, his breath mingling with yours as he pants above you. You pout and open your mouth to protest, but he kisses you again, making your head spin. You melt when his tongue hits yours, and then he’s gone again. You’re too dazed to complain about it.

“Listen to me, darling,” he says firmly, his voice brokering no argument. His wild eyes lock onto yours and it makes your heart race. “If I fuck you, you become a goddess.”

That snaps you out of it. “What?”

He chuckles lowly, and the sound goes straight to your clit. “The ‘humans react differently to godly spend’ thing? Were you listening?”

You flush slightly. “I was trying,” you mumble, looking down at his lips again. “But I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’re very pretty, and therefore very distracting.”

Now it’s his turn to blush, and you’re too far gone not to moan at the sight. He chuckles again and rolls those icy eyes.

“Shush, you,” he mutters, kissing you deeply once more. He tries to pull away, but you whimper and chase his lips and he caves, his thumb stroking your inner wrist in time with his tongue against yours. Eventually, he does pull away again, and you’re left gasping for air.

“I won’t fuck you until you’ve had time to think about it,” he says softly, trailing feather-light kisses over your jaw. They send shivers down your spine and you clench your thighs together, biting your lip.

“I don’t-” you start to protest.

“No,” Loki says firmly, pulling away. His fingers tighten around your wrists and his other hand leaves your ribs to grip your chin. “Look at me, Little Fox.”

What you see takes your breath away. He’s positively exquisite; his hair a mess from your fingers, his eyes wild and pupils wide blown, his lips swollen from kissing you and his lips parted with the force of his heaving breaths. His heart melts at the reverence in your gaze and he sighs softly.

“Not until you’ve had time to think,” he repeats quietly, brushing your nose with his. With that, he kisses you once more before releasing your wrists and rolling off you and laying beside you, staring up at your ceiling. “But I won’t make you sleep alone.”

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Apparently, Loki’s version of ‘time to think’ means ‘until I’ve explained every pro and con of immortality a thousand times and given you a week to mull over each one individually’.

Okay, so maybe it’s only been a month, but you’ve literally slept naked beside the man only to have him kiss your forehead and spoon you to sleep. It’s as sweet as it is infuriating. The only thing you’ve not tried is fucking groping him, which you don’t want to do because he’s been so respectful to you, so you’re fucking screwed. You’ve even tried touching yourself while he ‘slept’ beside you. You heard his breath hitch, you knew he was awake, but he did nothing.

So now you have one option left, aside from borderline assaulting your husband; ignore him.

There’s a ball tonight, one which Frigga assured you is not at all important for you to attend and has no dress code, which is vital for Plan B.

You just hope Plan A works anyway.

You’re oh-so-innocently perched on the chair in front of your vanity, painting your lips a deep red that offsets the… garment you’re wearing. Loki doesn’t immediately notice you, though he greets you as he always does.

A gentle, “hello, love,” as he enters the room and slips into the bathroom, pretty head in the clouds. But you don’t respond, and he notices that immediately. So he pokes his head out of the bathroom, and he fucking groans when he sees you.

What you’re wearing is so skimpy it can hardly be considered a gown. It’s a deep, gorgeous, emerald silk, one that drapes over your breasts but leaves nothing of your back, sides, or stomach to the imagination. The skirt, which is hardly a skirt, is just a wide strip of fabric that covers your crotch and meets the ‘skirt’ in the back, so everything indecent is covered, but every spare inch of skin is bared. You’re not even wearing jewelry yet, but he’s salivating at the sight of you.

Loki slips out of the bathroom with dark eyes and silent feet, and you can see in your periphery as you check your hair in the mirror that he’s undoing his tie. He comes to a stop just behind your chair and leans down, his lips hovering just outside your ear. “Did you wear that for me, Little Fox?” he purrs, and you can’t keep the shiver from running down your spine.

You don’t respond, focusing on your own reflection as you paint the lipstick on. You purse your lips, rubbing them together to spread the color over them. Ordinarily, you’d be blushing and embarrassed, self-conscious of the skin you’re displaying, but you’re too horny after four fucking months of him ignoring and neglecting you (translated: not fucking you) to care. You set down the lipstick with a hum, seeing him move in your periphery.

You can feel his breath against your skin, his hair brushing your shoulder as he leans in close and presses a chaste, lingering kiss to the crook of your neck. “I asked you a question,” he murmurs, his eyes trailing over your form as you begin to slide gold bracelets onto your arms. He’s definitely looking down the front of your dress.

But you still stay silent, ‘focusing’ entirely on your jewelry and not even sparing your husband a glance. You feel his lips curve into a frown against your skin and you relish it, the reaction, no matter how small it may be.

He inches closer, kneeling behind your chair and resting a hand on your thigh from behind you. “Little fox,” he says lowly, his voice all but a growl as he caresses the soft skin of your uppermost leg. “Why are you wearing this?” His tone sounds almost menacing now, an unspoken warning that sends a shiver down your exposed spine.

You meet his eyes over your shoulder, your own wide and innocent as you feel his thumb start to brush circles over your flesh. “I wanted to feel pretty,” you coo innocently, tilting your head to the side as your fingers dance across the vanity in search of the necklace you wanted to wear. You bat your eyelashes as you ask, “Do you think I look pretty?”

There’s something that flashes in his eyes, the icy blue darkening as his pupils blow wide. He presses his nose into the crook of your neck as his fingers slip under the silk of your gown, coming to rest on your hip -right where your panties are supposed to be. But you’re not wearing any, and he is suddenly very aware of it. He growls against your neck, “I think you look like a fucking goddess.”

And then his fingers plunge inside you, quicker than you know what to do with, and you’re already so wet that both long, slender digits slip in with no resistance. You cry out, your eyes rolling and your jaw going slack as your thighs part unconsciously. You’re faintly aware of him smirking against your lips, but your entire universe narrows to the feeling of his middle and ring finger curling into that spot with every thrust. You don’t know how he found it so fast, but you are not complaining in the least.

“You’re so pretty,” he coos as his fingers pump in and out of you, watching your reflection in the mirror as you lose your mind completely. “So undone, just from a few little touches?” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly as his thumb finds your clit and his tongue finds that spot under your jaw, both appendages moving in tight, rough circles that push you to the brink of sanity.

You’re probably moaning and whimpering and gasping, because your head is spinning and you can’t get enough air into your lungs and you’re not sure when your hips started bucking unceremoniously off the plush chair you’re sitting in, but none of that matters if you can’t stop yourself from cumming too fast.

Loki chuckles, his eyes dark as he watches you writhe.

And then he bites you.

You cum with a cry, one hand digging blood-red nails into his wrist and the other clawing at the edge of the chair as you try in vain to ground yourself. He’s groaning, too, gasping softly as his fingers seem to stutter inside your pulsing, fluttering pussy, but you’re floating too high to process why that might be.

He strokes that spongy spot inside you as you come down, gasping and panting and whining gently. Loki’s panting just as hard, his breath hot against your skin as he does.

Some part of your brain registers the wide-blow of his pupils in the vanity’s reflection, the way his fingers slow inside you until they nearly stop, only twitching slightly, almost involuntarily.

And then you wonder where his other hand is.

The second you meet his eyes, you know. And he knows you know, too, because he whimpers unabashedly and a shudder runs through him. You turn, swallowing hard as you peek back at him over the back of the chair. You try, oh, by the gods you try to maintain some level of dignity, but the second your eyes meet his without the reflection, your gaze drops.

Oh, he’s beautiful.

His trousers are shoved down his thighs and hand is wrapped tight around his cock, pumping furiously as he stares at you from his knees. A better woman might get a power trip, but you just whimper, biting your lip as you watch him. Memorize him.

The way his wrist twists on the upstroke, the way his palm grazes his tip, red and leaking and swollen and fuck you want to kiss it. The way he drags his nails down that vein on his underside, hissing slightly as he does. You wonder if it hurts, or if it feels more like a scratch on the scalp, but your mouth is too dry to ask.

You’re dully aware of your own hand moving between your thighs, pulling his fingers from inside you, causing you both to whine softly. You watch him switch hands then, using your slick instead of his own as he strokes himself faster. Your eyes flick to his face just in time to watch his eyes roll back, his bottom lip dragged between his teeth to stifle a sound you so wish you could hear. Loki’s head falls back and his eyes drift closed as he fucks his fist with your juices, his chest heaving and his stomach flexing with every thrust.

And you can’t help slipping off your chair and dropping to your knees, watching intently as pre-cum beads on that slit at the tip of him, such a perfect mushroom that you can’t not-

You grip his wrist, halting his movements. He whines, opening his eyes and staring down at you with a bewildered expression. Fuck, his eyes, so wide and burning and unhinged and insane, ablaze with lust and need and want. You whimper, and you can feel your heart beating in your clit as you tilt your head down, your eyes never leaving his, and kiss the head of him.

He explodes instantly, a hoarse cry leaving his throat. You open your mouth without hesitation, wrapping your lips around his perfect, pretty tip and laving your tongue over his spurting member. His warning from a month ago rings in your mind, but you’ve thought it over, and at this point, you do not care at all.

Why would you turn down this, turn down him, for the rest of forever?

Loki’s gasping and whimpering, his hips stuttering as he tries desperately not to fuck your mouth as you suckle the tip of him. You wrap your hand around his base, watching him through your eyelashes as you stroke him gently, wanting to milk out every drop of his cum. He’s sweet, which you weren’t expecting. Like candy, where human males are salty and bitter. He tastes like heaven, and you’re completely unsurprised that this would be an aphrodisiac to the average human.

“Fox,” he chokes out, gripping your hair tightly. “I- fuck- you-” He’s spluttering, his cock twitching against your tongue as the last drops spurt out into your mouth. You pull away, your chest heaving as you press one last kiss to his cock before releasing him. His hands drop to the floor, leaving him on his hands and knees in front of you, where your position mirrors his. He drops his head to your shoulder, loosing ragged, shuddering breaths against your skin as he tries to remember how to function.

You can still taste him on your tongue, and you can’t help wondering when you’ll get to do that again. “Loki,” you whisper, lifting one hand to run gently through his hair, soothingly.

He growls softly, his body going still against you. Your eyes widen, and for a moment, you think he’s angry with you. But then he’s standing, his arms looping around you to hoist you into the air. He dumps you unceremoniously on the bed, shoving his pants down the rest of the way before shoving your gown up and burying his head between your thighs.

You cry out, arching into him as you whimper his name, gripping his wavy hair tightly as his tongue flicks against your clit rhythmically. It’s hard and fast and desperate, far from what you thought your first time with him would be like. He seemed the type to lay out candles and rose petals, not bury his face in your cunt the first chance he got.

His fingers join in, pumping in and out of your pulsing pussy as he focuses his oral attentions on your clit, sucking hard and dragging his teeth over you just to listen to you gasp. His free hand kneads your inner thigh as he growls unintelligibly into your cunt. He’s probably giving a whole speech about how delicious you are, about how he could stay here for centuries and never tire, but you’re too busy mewling and whimpering his name to be able to discern any of it. You cum too fast again, your pussy drippy and needy from the aphrodisiac that is his seed, but he doesn’t stop.

You beg him to keep going, gasping and whimpering as you try to squirm away but push harder onto his tongue. Oh, it’s a warring sensation; the pain and the pleasure, the way it feels like heaven but it aches as he bullies your g-spot so perfectly with every crook of his fingers. His tongue is unrelenting, every flick of it sending stars into your eyes and shivers running down your spine. You’re incoherently babbling, mostly his name, but you’re sure there’s other stuff spilling from your lips, too. You’re kneading his hair and scalp, using your nails probably too much, but he just growls into your cunt and nips at your folds, causing a strangled cry to lurch from your throat as you cum hard once more. He groans as your pussy flutters so beautifully around his fingers, seemingly trying to drag them deeper inside you.

Finally, with one last drooling kiss to your clit, he pulls away, letting his eyes rove over you as he sucks his fingers clean. You lie, spread out and spent, chest heaving as your thighs tremble and your body twitches with soft aftershocks. You open your eyes, letting your fingers slip out of his hair so your arms go limp against the bed.

“You… You’re really good at that,” you murmur, still feeling like you’re floating.

Loki chuckles, his hand moving from your thigh to slide up your side, finding the hidden ribbon of your gown and tugging it. “I’ve had a long time to practice,” he muses as he unties the green silk, his eyes tracing over your form.

“You’re exquisite,” he whispers reverently, pushing the skimpy gown to the side so he can kiss more of you. He traces his lips over your skin, not even trying to be sensual, simply wanting to worship you.

He kneads your flesh softly, making your heart skip as his touch ghosts over you. It feels so safe here, so comfortable, and you feel so utterly adored. “I love you,” you whisper, your breath catching before you let out a soft, content sigh. It doesn’t immediately process for you that you’ve never said that to him, but he just hums against your collarbone, kissing his way up your neck until his lips rest on your earlobe.

“And I love you,” he whispers reverently, settling between your thighs. He kneels there, pulling back to look down at your still-twitching body. He smirks, a slight, arrogant thing, smugly proud of how undone you are for him. He finally finishes pulling his shirt off, unbuttoning slowly as you watch with parted lips and baited breath. “Do you want me to fuck you, my little fox?” he asks softly as he pulls the dress shirt off his back. You swallow hard, staring unabashedly at his chest as your cheeks heat. You nod, biting your lip gently before he leans forward and tugs your lip free with his thumb.

“I need a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, my queen,” he whispers as he hovers over you. His cock is hot and heavy against your stomach, hard again, and all for you. He bumps your nose with his, his eyes locked on yours as he smiles gently, the thumb on your lip moving to caress your jaw. His voice is so gentle, so sweet that you almost don’t process the sheer depravity of his words. “Do you want my cock, baby? Do you want me to make you sob on my dick, to fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my dick in you?”

You whimper, your cunt clenching at the thought.

“Yes.”

He crashes his lips to yours, his restraint seeming to snap completely as he reaches down and grips his cock tightly. He pumps it once, twice, sweeping his tongue over yours in time with his fist, and tilts his hips until the head of him taps your clit. You whimper against his mouth and he swallows it eagerly, slapping his cock against the throbbing nub and chasing the sound once more.

And oh, when he finally slips inside… The broad head of him stretches you out so slowly and deliciously, and your hands fly up from their spot in the bedsheets and claw down his back, trying to drag him closer, pull him deeper. You angle your hips with a whimper, bucking up to try to take him faster. But he chuckles against your lips and sucks on your tongue, keeping his slow, torturous pace until his head drags against that spongy spot inside you. You gasp and whine, arching your back. And he pulls out, pulling his cock through your sopping cunt oh-so-slowly as he breaks the kiss. He smirks down at you, his hands moving to grip your hips, hard enough to bruise.

He slams back inside all at once, eliciting a scream of ecstasy from deep inside your chest. Tears prick your eyes and you bow your back, encouraging a repeat performance. He whines softly and complies with your silent command, pulling out slowly until only his tip is inside you before he plunges back in, his cockhead meeting your cervix in a bruising, gooey kiss that leaves you both whimpering and gasping for more.

“Loki,” you whine, your eyes squeezing shut. He coos down at you, praising how pretty and sweet you look as he does it again, still too slow and still not hard enough but fuck fuck fuck, it feels so good.

“Take my cock so perfect,” he murmurs with a bright grin as he speeds up ever so slightly. “Such a pretty pussy, made f’me, yeah? Your pussy was made f’my cock? So fuckin perfect, baby, I love you so fuckin much.”

“Loki,” you whimper again, gasping desperately. “Loki, please-”

“Please what, baby?” he coos, pressing his hand against your belly as he thrusts in deep once more. You cry out, a fat tear falling down your cheek as you choke out his name. He just grins, doing it again and again, loving how completely undone you are, just from his cock. Him. “Fuck, you’re beautiful like this. Takin my cock like a sex god. You want more, baby? You want more of me? Want me to pound this pussy?”

You nod frantically, gasping and choking on air as your blood-red nails dig into his skin, leaving marks and indents, proof of your touch on him. “Please,” you gasp out again, bowing your back again.

This time, he complies. This time, when he drags his cock through your pleasure-soaked walls, he rams back inside without hesitation. This time, he drops his forehead you yours and fucking rails you, drawing ecstatic sobs from the depths of your soul.

His hands are so tight on your hips that you know they’ll bruise, and fuck, you can’t wait to see them in the morning. He bullies his cock deeper with every thrust, rolling his hips like a goddamn porn star to hit your clit with each plunge into your depths. Loki’s whimpering as much as he’s growling, his eyes wild as he fucks you hard and fast and deep. He crashes his mouth to yours, tasting your tears and sweat and spit and just you, groaning deep into your mouth.

He stills over you for a second, long enough to make you whine in protest, but also long enough to grab your hands off his back and pin them to the bed beside your head, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Mine,” he whispers reverently as he moves once more, his body fitting so perfectly against yours, like it was made for you. “Tell me,” he begs, trailing kisses over your jaw as his hips slow to a deep, satisfying pace that stirs that coil in your belly and makes the most delicious squelching sound. “Tell me who I belong to.”

You whimper, tears of absolute pleasure rolling down your skin only for Loki to lick and kiss them away before they can disappear into your hair. “Me,” you choke out, arching up into him with a soft whine. “Mine. Y-you’re mine.”

He whimpers, too, echoing you as he kisses your skin, his hips speeding up as his own high coils in his core. “Yours,” he vows, releasing one of your hands to reach down and press his thumb against your clit. “My wife.”

You cum with a scream, clenching on his cock so hard you’re sure it has to hurt, but he only whines, fucking you harder. He cums seconds later, gasping out your name and spilling deep inside you. You flutter harder around him, groaning at the feeling of being so utterly filled by him as your body convulses and twitches beneath him as he thrusts jerkily, trying to keep fucking you despite his own orgasm. He’s whimpering like a wounded animal, and it’s nearly enough to make you cum again.

You lean up and capture his lips, whining as you taste him again, going limp as he stills above you, focusing entirely on your lips now. His hand stills against you and the other squeezes yours, a soft, utterly sated sigh dropping between your lips. Loki settles his weight over you, letting his hand slide up your body and caress your jaw as he goes soft inside you. You sigh contentedly, lifting your own free hand to toy with his hair as you kiss.

After a moment, you pull away and smile up at him, tired and sated. “My husband,” you whisper, your hand sliding from his hair to his jaw. Loki nuzzles into the touch, kissing your inner wrist.

His eyes are soft as he gazes down at you, his hand on your jaw sliding up to trace over your face gently, reverently. And you could swear you’ve never heard anything as sweet as his voice as he murmurs so gently, so adoringly, “My goddess.”

˚　. . ✦ 　˚ . ★⋆.　. ˚　*✦　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

Later that night, you were still naked and tangled together, your head on his chest as he played with your hair, damp from the shower. You’re tracing shapes over his skin, humming contentedly to yourself.

You press a gentle kiss to his pec, skewing your mouth to one side. “I don’t feel any different,” you admit, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him. “I mean, I feel different, but different in a ‘I just had the best sex of my life’ kind of way, not a ‘I’m a goddess now’ kind of way.”

Loki chuckles and boops your nose. “You’ll feel different in the morning,” he assures you, his voice low and soft. “You were a goddess from the second my cock touched your tongue.” You flush despite yourself, turning your face to kiss his sternum.

“Hmm,” is all you say, embarrassed now of all times. He just laughs, grinning.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers, his voice coy and teasing as he settles back into his pillows as he returns to toying with your hair. “We’ll have plenty of time to make you a goddess if it didn’t work this time.”

#imagine's writings ✩₊˚.⋆☾#loki #loki fanfction #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki odinson #loki odison x reader #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki imagine #mcu loki

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beah388love · 1 year ago

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Marvel Masterlist

🧡= Little!Reader Fics

💛= My Fav Fics

* = Smut/Nsfw

Bucky Barnes

< Emotional >

- summary: Your emotional because of your period and Bucky comforts you

< Night hallucinations > 💛

- Summary: Bucky’s little wakes up alone and has a night hallucination whilst buckys in a meeting

< Hide and seek >

- Summary: Bucky has a mission so Tony looks after you and he loses you…

< Silent Treatment >

- Summary: You give Bucky the Silent Treatment…

< So soft… >

- Summary: your thighs are buckys weakness

< No More Pain? >

- summary: you have healing powers…

< Insecurities >

- summary: you’re insecure and Bucky reminds you how beautiful you are.

< Beach day took a turn >

- summary: Beach day took a turn and you got hurt…

Steve Rogers

< Language! >

- summary: Sam and buck accidentally teach you some new words…

< Promise? >

- summary: Steve accidentally scares you

< Never scare me like that again >

- summary: Steve’s been accidentally ignoring you

Tony Stark

< Meanie >

- Summary: One of Tony’s men is mean to you

Thor Odinson

< Too quiet…? >

- summary: someone says you’re too quiet for Thor and too different to be together

< Concussion >

- summary:

Loki Laufeyson

< Bad Daddy… >

- Summary: you have a bad nightmare about loki…

< You get Lost… >

- summary: you get lost…

< Night Terrors >

- summary:

Peter Parker

< Arachnophobia >

- summary: you have arachnophobia…

Sam Wilson

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Bruce Banner

< Green Daddy? >

- summary: Bruce turns into hulk….

Peter Quill

< Teething >

- summary: you are teething…

< I don’t feel good… >

- summary: you get stung by an unknown plant

Stucky

Avengers

< Bird-Fairy! >

- summary: you make Sam fairy wings!

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the-mortuary-witch · 1 year ago

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𖤐 INTRODUCTION 𖤐

I UPDATE ALL MY POSTS IF I FIND NEW INFO. THIS BLOG OF MINE IS SPIRITUAL, IT IS NOT AN AESTHETIC OR FETISH!

Everyone is welcome on my blog, no matter your skin tone, body type, age (please don’t message me if you’re a minor), gender, sexuality, beliefs, nationality, and interests.

DO NOT interact with me or my account if you support/are anti-abortion, proshipper, bullying, climate change, war, poverty, terrorism, fetishize serial killers, racism, murder, a hazbin hotel/helluva boss fan, have a nsfw blag, rape/rapists, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, ableist’s, human trafficking, anti-vax, fascists, donald trump, elon musk, neo-nazi’s, white supremacy, any kind of abuse, TERFs, bestiality, arson, jk rowling, and just overall piss off if you can’t be a decent human being.

ABOUT ME:

My name is Blóðtappi. I’m an adult, Icelandic, ENFJ, ambivert, metalhead, and goth. I have been a Satanist since Nov 2023 and a solitary witch since Feb 2024. This blog of mine is dedicated to Satanism, witchcraft, and deity/entity info/work.

Currently Working With: Lady Aphrodite, King Asmodeus, Lord Fenrir, Mother Freyja, King Hades, Mother Hecate, Lady Hel, Lord Loki, Mother Lilith, Lord Lucifer, and Queen Persephone.

Will Soon Be Devoted to: ???

Magickal Interests: sigils, crystals, spell work, meditation, divination, runes, and deity/entity work.

Other Interests: metal, rock, goth music, corpse paint, anime, manga, concerts, drumming, exercising, vulture culture, and collecting records and CDs.

SOCIALS:

INSTAGRAM: @the.mortuary.witch

PINTEREST: @the_mortuary_witch

POSTS:

SATANISM:

SATANISM INFO

THE 7 FUNDAMENTAL TENETS

SATANIC HOLIDAYS / CELEBRATIONS

WAYS TO CELEBRATE THE SATANIC HOLIDAYS / CELEBRATIONS

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN SATANISM, WITCHCRAFT, AND PAGANISM

THE 11 SATANIC RULES OF THE EARTH

WHAT SATANISM DOES AND DOESN’T SUPPORT

THE 9 SATANIC SINS AND THEIR MEANINGS

WITCHCRAFT:

2025 WITCHES CALENDAR

MY ALTARS

THE SABBATS

THE SABBATS PLAYLISTS

WAYS TO CELEBRATE THE SABBATS

IMBOLC

OSTARA

BELTANE

LITHA

LAMMAS

MABON

SAMHAIN

YULE

WITCHCRAFT INFO

SPELLS

SPELL BAGS

EVERYDAY WITCHCRAFT

TYPES OF WITCHES

TYPES OF HERBS AND SPICES

TYPES OF CRYSTALS

TYPES OF WATER

INCENSE PROPERTIES

HERB AND FLORA PROPERTIES

GRIMORE IDEAS

WITCHY RED FLAGS

LIMINAL SPACES IN WITCHCRAFT

FRUIT CORRESPONDENCES

VEGETABLE CORRESPONDENCES

GRAVEYARD GUIDE

COMMON WITCHY TERMS / TOOLS

FAMILIARS AND THEIR MEANINGS

WHERE TO DRAW SIGILS AND RUNES

CANDLE COLOUR MEANINGS

FULL MOON MEANINGS

MOON PHASES

DAY OF THE WEEK CORRESPONDENCES

MONTH CORRESPONDENCES

LOW EFFORT / ENERGY WITCHCRAFT

DEITIES AND ENTITIES:

CONNECTING WITH DEITIES

TYPES OF DEVOTIONAL ACTS

THINGS I ASSOCIATE WITH MY DEITIES

DEITY MASTERLIST (PART ONE)

DEITY MASTERLIST (PART TWO)

IDEAS FOR TALKING TO DEITIES

DEITY AND ENTITY PLAYLISTS

DEITY AND ENTITY AESTHETICS

TAROT ASSOCIATED WITH DEITIES AND ENTITIES

MASTERLISTS:

ASMODEUS

ANUBIS

APHRODITE

ARES

AMPHITRITE

APOLLO

ARTEMIS

ATHENA

BALDUR

BRIGID

BAPHOMET

BASTET

BEELZEBUB

CERBERUS

DIONYSUS

DEMETER

ERIS

FREYJA

FENRIR

HECATE

HYPNOS

HERA

HERMES

HESTIA

HADES

HEL

KHONSU

LOKI

LUCIFER

LEVIATHAN

LILITH

MELINOË

MEDUSA

NYX

ODIN

OSIRIS

PERSEPHONE

POSEIDON

RAUM

SKÖLL AND HATI

SELENE

SANTA MUERTE

THOR

THE MORRIGAN

THANATOS

ZEUS

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ineffablelara · 6 months ago

Text

About President Loki and that scene in the void...

Ever since I first watched Loki s1ep05 I felt uncomfortable with the scene that features President Loki and all the other variants, it was weird to me how some people found it hilarious and the pinacle of comedy in the show, not to mention the ones saying "Lmao this was the most Loki thing ever, of course they all betray each other"

Something about the Lokis being portrayed as shallow, predictable, incompetent and ultimately just pathetic never sat right with me, then after some time passed I realized that that's how the people in charge of s1 viewed Loki, Kate Herron and Michael Waldron didn't have the first idea about who Loki really was and they made that atrocity of a scene that shows just how low their opinion of him is

And the pinnacle of their misunderstanding of Loki as a character is perfectly embodied in… President Loki.

Yes, I know he's a fan favourite and he's very hot and some people even say his scenes are the only time the "real Loki" showed up onscreen (lmao)

As I said above I think he's the embodiment of Herron's and Waldron's misunderstanding of Loki and here's why: At first he seems to be like the Loki we all know and loved in Avengers, he's cool, badass, the leader of an army and he stops at nothing to get what he wants

But is he really all of those things? Because as soon as he finishes his "big speech" he's betrayed by his own "army", alligator Loki bites his hand off and he starts to scream in panic and terror, hell breaks loose and well, we have that atrocious scene that makes me nauseous every time I watch it, this is them telling us what they think Loki is: a mess, someone who wants to appear cool and badass but deep down is just a pathetic loser —a bufoon, a superficial clown who overestimates himself and needs to be humbled, he's there to be laughed at, they even make our Loki look at him and get immediately embarassed at himself, to show us that he's no longer that person, he's grown beyond his foolish old self

And honestly the whole scene with the Lokis yelling generic lines and fighting each other still pains me to this day, is this what they think Loki is? It feels like mockery, it's a insult to him and to the fans, not to mention President Loki's goal to take the "throne"????

You mean that old plastic chair with funny decorations that belong to a kid? Really? Is Loki seriously that desperate for such a meaningless throne? Is he really that shallow, childish and immature? Are we forgetting Loki's real motivations to pursue the throne in the first Thor? What about his desperate need to gain Odin's approval and to be seen as Thor's equal? NahI guess he was just a generic villain with generic motivations, here we're going to turn him into a good Loki

And how were they going to do it, you may ask? By introducing Sylvie.

The only heroic Loki who ever lived, the only morally good variant, the only competent one, commited one, the serious one who never does anything "at the expense of the mission" unlike our Loki who's not really that good at doing things, not even at lying (his attempts to deceive Mobius are so pathetic I feel physical pain when watching it), the variant who's so perfect at everything that our Loki starts to worship her in a way "she's different, she's not trying to take over the TVA, she's trying to take it down and she needs me", she is who he should strive to become and maybe I wouldn't have hated that so much if she wasn't, well, what she was

A woman who hates being a Loki so much that she even changed her own name to distance herself from that person—I can't think of anyone with as much internalized self-hatred as she has. Loki represents everything she despises about herself, yet somehow, I’m supposed to believe that "falling in love with her" made Loki love himself?

Of course, I forgot to mention the fact that even though she rejects being a Loki and loathes the idea of being called one she's wrapped in Loki's collor pallete, Loki's symbols and shapes, she even wears the fucking golden horns on her head and has her own version of the green cape when we first see her

But she rejected the Loki identity

But she dresses exactly like one

🤡

Like, they drew inspirations from so many characters to make her but somehow she manages to be... nothing? She's not Lady Loki, she's not Amora, she's not Sylvie Lushton, she's not Lorelei, and, I hate to be that person but she really feels like someone's self insert

The sad things is, she had potential, she could have been so interesting but they failed her miserably, they could've explored her own self esteem issues, make both of them learn something from each other, let her admire some parts of Loki too, make her see that maybe Lokis are not as bad as she thought, that maybe there's some redeeming qualities about them, even if you can't find it in all of them

But no, let's turn her into a self insert instead of a proper character, and let's make her as annoying as possible too 🤡

Anyway, I ranted enough about her, TLDR: The people in charge of s1 misunderstand Loki on a fundamental level and the scene with them betraying each other in the void is a mockery of the character

#Loki #loki season one #loki series critical #loki series negativity #anti #anti loki series #loki meta #anti sylvie #anti sylki #anti sylvie laufeydottir #anti president Loki #I hate s1 so much #there's some parts that are really good #but then you get shit like this #and I really can't #it's so tiring

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those-late-night-feels · 2 years ago

Text

To Kill a God

Summary: The mission – Assassination of Loki Laufeyson.

Warnings: Light control and dominance, loathing, spanking, smut.

A/N: We're just gonna pretend the events takes a different route after the Battle of New York.

Personal A/N: Apologies for how long it's been. Was dealing with some personal things, including a pretty bad injury that I'm now recovering from. I also tend to write really slow. Please enjoy! Comments/feedback & reblogs are always much appreciated! 💚

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Nights like these were the best time to work. Silent, still, dark. A hunter on a mission for the next prey. But this one was new; you'd never hunted a god before. Breaths were drawn slow, methodical, focused. Keep your heart rate down, keep your steps in check.

You had been kept in the shadows of the Avengers, not fitting in with the pretty boy heros, genius doctors, or sexy vixens. You were a wallflower, a nightcrawler.

Sure, Black Widow, she was cute with her fancy moves and killer body. But you? They never even hear you coming.

With grace and stealth, you had slipped into Asgard undetected when the portal opened up to take Thor and Loki home after the Battle of New York. The rush to this new world had been nauseating, but with breaths through your nose to compose yourself, you slipped into the shadows.

The streets of Asgard were crowded and foreign, vendors shouting to grab your attention, new smells, twinkling lights and glimmering colors. A fine silk robe was lifted from a distracted shopkeeper, promising yourself that you'd return it once the mission was complete.

In only a few hours, you had worked your so-called magic to obtain the intel needed and now stood in the main hall of the Asgard royal prison. It had taken a bit of eavesdropping on a table of drunken guards and the power of persuasion with another to allow you entry into the palace's main gates. A small amount of combat and you had forced your way into the prison compound.

Adrenaline pulsed through your veins, knowing you were close. Turning the corner, the prisoners were found fast asleep in their glass panel prison cells. And then, you stopped in your tracks and held your breath. The raven haired terror, that pathetic excuse for a god, slept only a few meters from you. He looked peaceful, almost gentle, but looks were deceiving. You reminded yourself that he was ruthless and cruel, but not for long.

Knowing there were only minutes before a slew of Asgardian guards would come rushing in, you worked diligently to shut down the currents running through the security system. Loki stirred in his bed, but didn't awaken. The dagger was heavy, but it was all that was needed to finish the mission.

Hand firmly on the hilt, you took quiet, determined steps to his bed, taking one last look at the god in front of you, then bared your weight as you went for his heart. But there was no impact as his body faded away to nothing.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

How peculiar it was, these small other worldly creatures who thought they could defeat a god. In the shadows, he tsked at the young thing in front of him. So impatient, so immature. Who did they think he was? He emerged slowly, a sinister smile dancing on his face. You turned abruptly, eyes going wide knowing your advantage was lost…or had never been there to begin with.

"Did you really think you could slay me?" He chuckled to himself, very amused by this predicament. "I assure you, girl, it will take more than a knife and leather leggings to take down the god of mischief."

With a futile attempt, you lunged at him. He grabbed you like a rag doll, twisting your arm in an awkward angle until the metal clanged on the floor. A whimper escaped and he let go before it dislocated, only to wrap his hands around your throat and bring you to eye level with him. He watched in satisfaction as you struggled, choking and clawing at his hands.

"Don't worry pet," he leaned in closely to whisper in your ear. "I won't kill you, not yet. There'd be no fun in that."

He drew a finger down the side of your face, relishing in the thoughts of all the things he could do to his new captive, when a booming voice echoed through the prison corridor. "LOKI?!"

He sighed to himself in annoyance, always the killjoy to his fun. "Here, brother."

Thor stood in front of the prison cell, taking in the scene before him: Loki standing calm and poised, a small girl held at arm's length from the neck, face turning red, toes dragging on the ground. "What's going on here?"

"Well, dear brother, it appears our security is not what it once was. I caught this one lurking around." Your eyes darted to his. Why did he withhold the truth?

Thor squinted, cocking his head to the side to get a better look at you. And then, your name left his lips like an incredulous question.

Loki's face went from a look of surprise at his brother's recognition of you to amusement at what this meant. "You're Midgardian," he mused.

"Loki, release her," Thor demanded, hearing you struggle in his grip.

"I'll tell you what. Allow me to go back to my chambers freely, and this little minx will be handed over to your care."

"Loki…" Thor gave a gutteral warning. He was treading on thin ice, but they both knew who had the upper hand.

"It's a fair trade. It's clear she is important to you." Loki's eyes locked on yours. "Release me…or I crush her windpipe."

You flailed uselessly in a panic, his grip growing tighter, causing your eyes to water, face slowly turning to shades of purple.

"Fine, Loki! Go back to your chambers."

A look of satisfaction as he dropped you to the floor. You collapsed and breathed in deeply, rubbing the sensitive skin around your neck. Thor called the guards: two to escort you back to his personal chambers and another two to allow Loki free access to his wing.

Loki stepped over you as he left, clearly pleased with how his evening was ending. This wasn't over, but it was for now.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Thor had given you free reign of his chambers for the time being, instructing a few maidens to assist with your care, tending to any wounds, assisting with bathing and dress, although you insisted on doing the majority yourself. He found you the next morning after some rest, fully pampered and lounging on a chaise, feet and shoulders massaged by maidens.

"I could get used to the life of a prince," you teased when he came into the chambers. He ignored your jest and sat down looking troubled.

"Leave us," he ordered the maidens, watching until they filed out of the room. When the door shut, he turned to face you. "I have spent the last few hours trying to comprehend why you would come to Asgard without my knowing, and have yet to come up with a reason that doesn't involve violence." Your arms folded as he looked for any admission of guilt.

"It's classified, Thor." Your voice stayed steady and strong, and his jaw tightened. He grabbed a goblet from a nearby table and threw it against the wall, making it shatter, but you didn't flinch.

"I will remind you," he said slowly, "that right now you are on my planet, and not under Tony's protection."

You blinked at the mention of your employer and ally's name.

"You know I won't break, Thor. If I were a threat, wouldn't Loki have requested to have me locked up in one of your prison cells?" Thor considered your words. "In any case, I will leave you in peace and return to Midgard. I'm sure you have enough to deal with right now."

"No…. I think you'll stay as our guest for a while. We have some chambers available on the east wing." Your stomach twisted at what his words really meant. A guest, disguised as a prisoner. Thor stared you down.

"And, if I refuse?"

Now Thor crossed his arms, leaning back on the chaise. "You've seen our prison cells. They can be quite accommodating as well."

You smiled at his offer. "The east wing will be fine."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The maidens took lead to the east wing; you attempted to map the halls to memory, but after the twelfth turn, considered it was futile. You'd be lucky to find your way to freedom, let alone finding your primary target.

A brunette opened the door to the chambers, a hand held out to guide you in. "If you need anything, we will be right outside to assist."

Great, I have watchdogs.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the adjoining apartments, studying from the open window the trimmed gardens, the various exits, the guards that roamed the outer courts and how often they changed. When your stomach started to rumble with hunger, like clockwork there was a light knock on the door, followed by a maiden poking her head in.

"Excuse me, my lady. Your presence is requested in the dining hall."

As you followed the silent maidens, you tried speaking as casually as possible. "Is Loki's chambers in the east wing?"

"No, my lady."

You frowned. "I would assume he has a full wing to himself?"

"If the prince wishes for you to know where his chambers are, he will show you the way."

The other maiden giggled quietly, then pulled herself together quickly before being seen. No doubt they assumed you were looking to bed the prince, not that you would correct them if it took focus off the real reason to be here.

The dining hall was as elaborate as it was giant; high backed velvet chairs, a table that went on forever it seemed, vaulted ceilings adored with golden arches and cherubs, servants stationed every few meters. It was hard not to feel completely out of place, but Thor made you feel welcomed enough, having plate after plate of the most decadent food placed in front of you. You had to hand it to Thor, he had learned to become more sly, perhaps by watching how others on the team worked. He made small talk about Midgard and the team, but would casually add a question here and there about why you were in Asgard.

You were tight lipped; it would take more than being wined and dined to make something slip. Mid-conversation, the door creaked and the guards and servants straightened up. Footsteps clicked on the marble floor around the corner out of view, but you already knew who was approaching.

When he appeared, his eyes darted from Thor to you but his face was like a stone, unreadable. He tilted his head to consider you, no doubt admiring the marks he'd left on your neck the night before. "Have we lowered ourselves to now dine with common criminals?"

He watched as your jaw set and heard Thor's booming laugh. "Loki, I'd like you to formally meet my friend–"

At the mention of your name, he scoffed. "We met. Might I advise that you be more particular in who you acquaint yourself with, brother."

"Like you?" Arms crossed, you leaned in the chair in defense. He was as annoying as he was cocky.

He watched the pulsing of the vein in your neck, the slight reddening of your face; he was getting under your skin. Good.

"My dear, I have more greatness in the tip of my finger than you in your entire being."

You scoffed. "Greatness, huh? Seems like that greatness delusion is what brought you back up here in chains."

"And yet," he said, holding out his arms, "no chains. Although, I guess I have you to thank for that."

Internally, you were screaming. Fantasies of diving across the table to gouge out his eyes and claw his face played in your mind. He was insufferable. Agitating. Annoying.

You needed to finish this mission and escape Asgard. The sooner this world was rid of Loki Laueyson, the better.

You stood, your plate of food unfinished, turning to Thor with a plastered smile. "Thank you for the lovely meal, Thor. Please, excuse me."

You wouldn't dare look at Loki, but you could feel his eyes on you, causing the hairs to raise on the back of your neck.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The halls had been quiet for hours and the only light in your room came from the glow of the moon and candlelight. You'd waited until it was almost inevitable that the maidens would have fallen asleep at their posting. Slipping by them was easy.

The occasional guard roamed the halls, but as you expected, was not as sharp. You slipped by two undetected, a third was put into a sleep hold and dragged into the shadows before anyone could be alerted.

The North Wing was far more rich in decor and aesthetics, with golden pillars and chandeliers. Loki's chambers were here, you were sure of it.

A sparkle of green in the shadows caught your eye. Was it a trick? Maybe, but he wouldn't take you by surprise this time.

The door was heavy and your steps were light as you entered the room. It was dark and smelled of cedar and leather. He was nowhere in sight, but you still kept to the walls.

A faint flicker of light in the next room caught your attention, a crackling fireplace, and there he appeared, reading in an oversized plush chair.

"You know, you're not as subtle as you think." He flipped the page, not even giving you the courtesy of looking up. "Thor had mentioned you were stealthy like a cat or something, but my oaf of a brother has about as much stealth as you do."

Your cheeks reddened in spite of yourself. He was absolutely infuriating. "Why did you lie?"

He finally looked up from his book, sliding a bookmark into the crease, a smirk playing on his lips. "You do realize that I'm the god of lies, don't you?"

"You could have told Thor why I was there, what I tried to do, and have me locked up. Why didn't you tell him?"

He made you feel so small when he stood, setting the book on a nearby coffee table. "Now where would the fun in that be?"

Taken aback, you blinked in response. "This…. This isn't a game."

He tsked and long daggers were revealed in his hands. "Darling, it's the best game there is."

He came forward at a fast pace. Your own weapons were drawn from your belt, ready to attack. Metal clashed in the middle of his study. He was impressed by your speed and agility, but he caused the first cut, a minor wound on your bicep. You responded by kicking him off his feet to pin him to the ground for only a moment before he flipped you over your head, losing one of your daggers in the process. With your hand free and he distracted, your fist made contact with his face.

A slur of curses were emitted. "You'll pay for that."

"We'll see." You smiled cockily, coming at him, but he was ready and provoked. One minute you had attacked him, a swipe of your blade and another punch blocked. The next minute, you were bent over and pinned to his desk. One of his hands had grasped your wrist, still gripping the dagger, the other hand on the back of your head. His body pressed into yours as you writhed and struggled, bucking your hips, kicking your leg out, but he was much too heavy.

"Let me know when you're ready to yield." He was very amused.

"Fuck you."

He laughed in a huff. The grip on your wrist went tighter. "Drop it," he demanded.

Any attempt at freeing yourself was proved useless. The dagger clattered on the desk and he tossed it aside, his own going back into his invisible pocket.

"Good girl. Now tell me you yield."

Silence. You'd rather die than give him the satisfaction.

"Suit yourself," he said. "It seems to me like you Midgardians need to be taught some manners." And slowly, his hand was brought to your back, running down the length of your spine. Teeth clenched, eyes squeezed shut, you tried to remove yourself from the moment, knowing more than likely what was coming from the dominant, power-hungry male. But then, smack!

Your eyes shot open, the sting of your ass cheek startling you. Another hard spank, the sting almost making you yelp as your body went forward.

"Now," he said calmly, evenly in your ear as you looked straight ahead. "You have two options." Smack! "One, you stop being stubborn and admit your defeat." Smack! "Or two, you stay on this desk until I decide you've learned that lesson." Smack!

Your legs trembled as you held onto the edge of the desk. You hated him, hated this… and yet, a warm ache started to slowly whisper within. No, you couldn't… With every ounce of strength, you tried to block it out. "What… what are you gonna do to me?"

He chuckled and you couldn't quite tell if it was out of amusement or something darker. "Not to worry, my pet. I only bed willing participants."

His hand rested on the small of your back and he leaned forward. "Now, tell me. Have you learned your lesson?"

He caught your eye and you struggled to answer. How did you reply without letting him win? Maybe, if you said yes, he would lower his defenses and then you'd— Another spank caught you by surprise and a yelp escaped in spite of yourself. "I asked you a question and do not enjoy repeating myself."

You took a shaky breath, he had you so off guard and you hated how it was making you feel.

Looking up, you gave him the best innocent look you could muster and nodded slowly. He reached for the back of your head, gripping your hair to tilt your head up towards him with a jerk. "Have you?"

"Yes," you choked out. You hated him! You hated him! You hated him!

He considered you, bent over his desk, head bent back violently so, breathing heavily and shaking, and then, he just let you go. You stood after a beat, confused and feeling embarrassed.

"Leave," he demanded, walking out of the study to another room. Red-faced, your stomach churned. Did he seriously just…

"Hey!" you shouted, following his path to the other room, but when you got there, he was gone. Searching room by room, your anger built as you found each one empty.

A rage burned through your veins as you stormed down the hall toward Thor's chambers. You were done with this mission, with these stupid mind games, with the princes of Asgard. You wanted to go home and call the mission what it was–a failure.

Done with courtesy and manners, you barged into his chambers without warning. "Thor, I need to talk to you–"

The words caught in your throat as you stopped in your tracks, finding Loki already there. Thor said your name like a pleasant surprise. "You look an absolute wreck! Are you alright?"

"Wha–" the words caught in your throat as you looked down at your shifted top, feeling your face redden, hair a mess.

"Well, no matter," Thor continued. "Your ears must be ringing, we were just discussing your return to Midgard."

"You… you were?"

Loki's lack of eye contact was not lost on you.

"Indeed," Thor continued. "My brother believes that we have no use of you here and should send you back immediately. His words, not mine." Thor laughed, caused by your startled expression and Loki's uncharacteristic silence. "But, as neither of you are willing to speak freely on what matters are going on, I reject this request."

Both you and Loki raised your voices, you taking a step forward. How long did he plan to keep you here against your will?

Thor raised his hand. "You both think me a fool, but until I know why you are here, I will not change my mind. Classified or not."

Your jaw clenched, fists tightened, and you stormed out of his chambers, slamming the door behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Loki winced as the door slammed. "I don't believe she was happy with your decision."

"No, I think not. Anything you care to tell me?"

Loki shook his head. "There is nothing to tell. She's a nuisance and Asgard should be rid of her."

Thor placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Loki, you may be the god of lies, but even I can see through this one."

Loki left the chambers deep in thought. He absolutely despised Midgardians–mortals who risked their lives every day, absolute fools they were. Pompous, annoying little gremlins.

And yet, he had enjoyed the little game he was playing with you. You were a challenge for him and getting under your skin was pure pleasure. But, there was something in the look you gave him as he held your head up that he knew. It made him realize he was playing with fire, and this game was getting too dangerous. He needed to rid himself of you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Almost a week had passed and he hadn't reappeared. You'd toured the gardens, the library, the royal throne room, dined in their mess hall and terrace multiple times; it was clear by day three that he was actively avoiding you, and somehow that was even more irksome. It should have been a relief to be rid of his annoying presence, but you were equally on edge. What if he caught you off guard? The possibilities of what would happen were endless with that twisted mind of his. Torture you? Strangle you at night? The nights were restless, with every creak and whistle of wind making you jump.

By day five, enough was enough. If Thor wouldn't budge in sending you home and Loki wouldn't show himself, you would take matters into your own hands.

The nightly strolls through the halls were becoming commonplace, and it wasn't long before the familiar chamber doors stood before you again. The rooms were illuminated by moonlight. He was deep asleep in his bed, bare-chested with only a sheet to cover him at the hips. Your dagger was unsheathed and slowly you pressed it to his neck. His eyes opened and he took a sharp breath inward.

"Don't move," you whispered.

"Alright." His voice was steady.

"You're going to help me leave this planet."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "Am I?"

"Yes."

"And…what if I refuse?"

You pressed the dagger harder to his neck. He could see the desperation on your face. "I don't think you are in a position to refuse."

He smirked at you, like he understood a joke you weren't in on. "Didn't you come to Asgard to kill me?"

He was absolutely the most abhorrent person you'd ever met. Why would he bring this up? Should you kill him? He was right there, the knife pressed to his neck. One swipe and…

He grabbed onto your arms, taking you out of your thoughts and pulling you closer to him. "Do it."

You blinked and froze. Something in your stomach twisted. "I… I can't. Why can't I kill you?"

In a quick motion, he rolled you onto your back, his weight heavy. Your hand shook and he leaned in, pressing down on the dagger, further and further, until his lips met yours. Your breath was lost and the dagger slipped between the two of you to clatter onto the floor. He gripped onto your clothes, pulling and tearing and breaking.

He wasn't gentle, wasn't kind. There was no room for romance or making love. It was carnal, rough. A desire that neither wanted to admit to themselves.

Pain in the most pleasurable form, as his lips pressed hard onto yours. As clothing was torn in desperation. As your undergarments were stretched and discarded until you were just as naked as he. His eyes and mouth and fingers explored the areas only meant for a lover.

His long digits played with your silky folds before delving into the warm wet center, causing you to shiver in delight. You reached down between your bodies to grasp on an already stiff cock, making it throb, a moan emitting from him like an ache that hadn't been relieved in years, before he took your hand from beneath him and placed it above your head. In a swiftness, he sheathed himself inside you, causing your eyes to grow large, your head to come forward, your teeth to sink into his skin. He shifted, looking down at you, the minx who had wanted him dead, and thought how beautiful and fragile you were. He could have snapped you in two like a twig if he had wished it. Instead, he'd punish you until you came, over and over again; tattooing his existence on your soul for the rest of your eternity.

The angle of his cock rubbed in a way you'd never felt before by any Midgardian man, and soon your body was convulsing below him. He let you ride out your high before flipping you onto your stomach and penetrating from behind. A shaky high-pitched moan emitted from you, making him smile in satisfaction. He wrapped his hands around your throat, bringing your head up higher to whisper with a smile, "I think you've admitted your defeat."

"You never shut up, do you?"

"Never."

With a smack of your bottom, he thrust into you until he was spent and you were ruined. The silky sheets of his bed melted into your skin as you lay quiet in thought after. You didn't fail missions. You also didn't fuck them. Contemplating what you'd write on your report, Loki emerged from the other room, dressed and ready to take you back to Midgard. He handed you the clothes you first arrived on this planet in.

As you dressed, preparing for your arrival back home, you studied him. He was, without a doubt, the most abhorrent, irritating person you'd ever met. And yet, something drew you to him that you didn't understand.

"Alright," he said when he saw you were dressed. "Let's get you back to where you belong." You nodded, wondering if you'd ever see him again, hoping you wouldn't…but not for the reason you'd expect.

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ifeelgeek · 2 months ago

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Ambientaciones que la comunidad quiere rolear (y nosotros algunas también)

En su momento se han compartido por ifeelgeek que la comunidad les busca:

• Viejo Oeste / Vaqueros / Tribus americanas con criaturas místicas

¡Saca el sombrero, carga el revólver y no mires al chamán a los ojos (y menos si hay una piel de lobo cerca)!

• Piratas

—¡Eh tú, grumete! ¡Devuélveme la pata de palo o te convierto en carnada de kraken!

• Época victoriana o terror gótico

Castillos, corsets, y fantasmas que no pagan la renta, cuidado con lo que invocan.

• Dragones y Mazmorras

Aquí vienes a lanzar dados y robar oro. ¡Entrega el oro!

• Star Wars Que la Fuerza te acompañe

• Superhéroes (no DC y Marvel) ¡Oigan un foro de the boys suena divertido de rolear!

• Marvel (ahora sí)

Porque siempre hay alguien que quiere ser Loki. O Thor. O los dos.

• El Señor de los Anillos

Alguien dele de comer ya a ese hobbit, hoy no hizo su segundo desayuno.

• Saga ACOTAR (¿así se escribe? Sí, ¿no?)

Fae, drama, y tensión romántica o eso dice san google, luego me cuentan sobre la saga

• Temática libre

Literalmente: lo que se te ocurra. ¿Un rol de cucarachas con poderes? ¿Una papa que esta en rebelión para que no la cocinen?

• Sailor Moon

¡Transformaciones brillantes, amistad poderosa y uniforme escolar obligatorio!

• Demon Slayer

Katanas, kimonos y demonios ¿Qué podría salir mal?

• Bleach

Shinigamis con peinados imposibles salvando almas y rompiendo espadas.

• Escuela de magia (que NO sea Harry Potter)

Porque la magia no es franquicia exclusiva.

• Fantasía oscura

Menos "yay unicornios" y más "¿ese bosque quiere devorarme o solo abrazarme muy fuerte?"

• Personajes de cuentos (pero no OUAT)

Caperucita con un hacha y el Lobo como terapeuta. Por cierto, ¿Todos estamos de acuerdo con que el novio de cenicienta tiene prosopagnosia?

---------------

Añadidos a través de los comentarios de esta publicación:

• Terror misterioso (pero no Silent Hill): Nada de sirenas sonando ni pueblos en la niebla. Aquí los horrores se esconden en bibliotecas, cartas antiguas y pasillos demasiado largos. ¿Por qué ocurren estas cosas? Ejemplo: Una casa donde cada puerta lleva a un recuerdo que no es tuyo… pero tú estás en ellos.

• Zombies: No corren, no piensan, no pagan impuestos… pero siempre llegan. El mundo se cae a pedazos y tú solo quieres un bote de judías en conserva. Ejemplo: Un refugio subterráneo con reglas estrictas… y una radio que recibe mensajes desde dentro del refugio vecino. Que se supone, está vacío.

• Fantasía medieval (dragones y traiciones pero que no sea sobre GOT): Castillos y caos. Todos quieren poder y dragones.

Agradecemos a @peachymurky por la sugerencia de que hiciéramos esto.

Pequeña aclaración: que pidieran un foro de cierta temática no quiere decir que no existan otros que podrían cumplir con lo solicitado ¡Si el foro en el que estas o en el que eres admin cumple con algo ponlo en los comentarios así ayudas a que más personas puedan encontrarse con lo que buscan!

¿Tienes alguna temática que no nombramos? Envía mensaje que lo añadimos a nuestro listado.

#encuesta #comunidad

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villainswife · 3 months ago

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Take what you want

Loki x Reader

Another late night, on the bags, you were almost amazed you hadn’t broken your hand almost or sprained it badly like the bride in kill bill.

It made sense to you. It kept your mind focused on a task, focused away from well the nightmares terrorizing you almost one a week at least, away from the reoccurring thoughts you struggled with about using a blade of some kind just to let some of the suffocating pain out. Those were in the past, but the pain , the pain was still there like a demon reminding you peace is out of your reach no matter how hard you hit or how fast you run

You feel his presence , before he says anything, the smug bastard still thinks he can sneak up on you. Of course he can’t , doesn’t matter how loud the music pounding in your ears is , or if you were even asleep , you’d always been attuned and aware of your surroundings. Especially more so since Thor , decided his man child brother , Earth’s latest pain in the ass needed character building, and his punishment was better served doing community service of sorts with the team.

“You bored or something ? “ , you lazily ask the diva to your left , silently watching you.

“You are throwing your hits all wrong . You need to step into it . Not stand at a distance “.

Of course smart mouth decides to impart his wisdom upon you , without asking of course only really to prove how smart he thinks he is.

“Didn’t think his highness used his hands much other than to conjure up tricks”.

He scoffs , “ of course not . Does not mean I do not observe when my neandrathal of a brother or you throws a hit wrong”.

“Alright Trix, show me”. You called him this partly cuz of his moniker , and he reminded you of the kids cereal mascot, but mostly to piss him off.

“As you wish”, he remarks amused that you actually wish to see him demonstrate what he’s trying to explain to you.

He stands calmly , hands clasped behind his back undoubtedly waiting for something interesting to happen, like you attempting to lay a hit on him or see if the sandbag swings back to hit you in the face .

His voice cuts through your musings , “ do that again but keep your feet firmly planted and your thumb tucked under your fist”.

you roll your eyes and do as he suggests .

“No you’re off balance and you missed your target “

“Here “. He gently adjusts you turning your hips just so , and your shoulders back and relaxed , then he whispers in your ear “ now try it again”.

Does so and lands a hard hit on the bag .

shocked at my progress .

“Better now try the other arm”.

“ I’m right handed “.

“do you want to learn to fight or not “.

does as he asks .

And lands a hard firm one on the bag with your left hand .

“now let’s try with some competitions”. He suggests , undoing his jacket revealing his toned arms not as bulky as thors but still exuding strength.

“you can’t be serious”

“You scared agent ? “ he smirks ,

“No I just recognize an unfair fight from the get go”.

“there’s nothing fair in war , you’ll have to be prepared to fight opponents stronger and quicker than you but the sooner you can find their weakness and exploit it the better” , he remarks sharply.

“ is that how you win fights by exploiting weakness”.

“no that’s how I survive now come at me unless you’re too scared that is” he taunts

You glare considering walking away but then decides to twist around and kick him in the head , your foot suddenly caught in his hand , “cute agent , if you want to make an attempt at besting me you’ll l have to try harder “.

Then he lets go of your leg and you almost stumble but then go for another hit when he’s not paying attention and knock him to the ground .

he rubs his jaw seemingly impressed , “not bad agent, not bad “

you smile triumphantly and exhale sharply out of breath , before he grabs your waist pulling you on top of him .

You shriek at the sudden loss of balance and find yourself falling right on top of him .

“Mmm much better Agent much much better “.

“Loki let me go. “.

“If you want to free yourself figure it out in the meantime I’m rather enjoying this “ he hums.

You try to wriggle out of his grasp only to make him hold you tighter , chest to chest and well barely a few layers of fabric between your pelivuses together.

“ Loki I’m serious cut it out let me go “.

“Make me “. He whispers.

you go to knee him in the groin , when he hooks his leg around yours .

“ tsk tsk agent , you’re not getting off that easy”.

“Loki what do you want “.

“isn’t it obvious agent ? I finally have you right where I want you , “ he says stroking your back tracing circles , and I’m not ready to give this up just yet “.

“Loki … I-“.

he kisses you softly behind your ear then on your jaw just to test to see your reaction.

“mmmm” you moan loudly unintentionally.

“you know what you want take it “.

You kiss him soundly n his smart arrogant mouth and finally shut him up .

#loki x reader #mcu loki #loki smut #tom hiddelston x reader #marvel loki #loki is being an ass #bratty Loki

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booobooothefool · 3 months ago

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I'm destined to fade, but you're the holiest thing I know

SURPRISE! I'm alive (unfortunately) and am calling time of death on trying to finish this junk after starting it all the way back in 2021 when I was on thanksgiving break from university, it is now 2025 and I dropped out of the uni I was going to when I start this unholy thing...so yeah...its been years and I've given up on this thing...this trash is only a whopping 3,263 words which is so embarrassing considering how long I've been letting it sit and marinate in my dumb drafts...untouched by time (and untouched by me because this junk has not been edited or added to since what I originally wrote)

-A young lowly maid is tasked to help clean a few of the palace rooms after the great Prince of Asgard’s big return- (set in a fantasy medieval au)

*18+!!!*

WARNING: horrible grammar, NOT edited, bad English, mentioning of unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you get silly), mean and dark Thor, breeding kink-ish, noncon, cum play, loss of virginity, includes subjects that may be disturbing to some! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!...honestly read at your own risk because I am a warning all on my own

...

You had spent most of your life working within the palace walls, Mother Linda had specifically made sure that you worked far from others and had little to no interaction with anyone of high status. You were of low birth and was brought to the palace as a child to trade for food and some silver so that your parents could pay your older brother’s dowry for his wife. You’d spent most of your childhood under Mother Linda's care, learning how to be a proper servant with little to no flaws. No matter how well you performed, your status as someone who originates from low birth meant that you were often seen as an eyesore to the nobles who were allowed to roam within the palace walls. The other girls you grew up with were sent to the palace by their families who felt that they weren’t needed until they were old enough to be married off for personal gains. Some sons were even sent to live here and work as grounds keepers, soldiers, or a knight if they were lucky.

You’d spent most of your morning going around and collecting the bed sheets so you could wash them while the house maids cleaned the many rooms before the Crown Prince’s return. The kingdom had been at war for the better part of 2 years now and his victory greatly pleased the people. His highness fought alongside the great neighboring kingdom’s Crown Prince Loki, the two kingdoms were once at war themselves, but after King Odin saved and returned Crown Prince Loki from a group of rogue bandits that were known for terrorizing the outskirts where the two kingdoms met, both the Kings came together and made a treaty and the peace that came with the treaty greatly helped both the people from Asgard and Sakaar.

After you finished gathering the sheets from the rooms, you quickly washed them and hung them up onto the clothing lines. Because you had finished your job earlier than usual, Mother Linda had you help the gardeners harvest some of the vegetables from the royal garden and help cook as well since one of the kitchen maids had recently given birth, leaving the kitchen short staffed. After you finished helping with the other chores you had to go and gather the now dried sheets from the lines, fold them, and take them to the chambermaids.

On your way back to help finish things in the kitchen, you ran into Annalise who was greatly favored by Crown Prince Thor for her beauty. She was once a young and innocent maid who, like you, hoped to one day save enough money to buy her freedom and escape the palace walls. Her parents were rich merchants who sold her to the palace after she refused to marry the son of another rich merchant. Annalise was known by all the maids for being strong willed and smart, she wanted her own independence and most of all, she wanted to marry for love, but one day she was assigned to help tend to Crown Prince Thor and that was the beginning of her doom. Although Crown Prince Thor was known to be obsessed with Annalise, he was also a gentleman and never touched her inappropriately, but he did make Annalise's dreams of buying her freedom impossible. Annalise was said to be greatly in love with a stable boy who mysteriously disappeared after they tried to run away together after news that Crown Prince Thor had been given her contract to make her his own personal maid so that she would be by his side every second of everyday.

"Y/N! She'd be perfect!" Annalise had silently whispered under her breath, unable to hear her properly, you perked up at the slight catch of your name being mentioned, "I'm sorry?" Annalise looked at you and paused, she thought for a moment and suddenly grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and looking at you from every angle. "Y/n, are you doing anything right now? Actually, never mind that, I need your help with stripping the rooms. Clement came up with a cold after her punishment and I need someone capable!" You stood there slightly stunned and panicked, you were unqualified to work jobs so close to the people of high statuses. Before listening to your answer and taking advantage of your frozen state, Annalise grabbed your hand and dragged you towards her private quarters that was close to the Crown Prince's wing.

You snapped out of your trance once Annalise suddenly started to undress you, "What are you doing!?" Annalise frowned and pointed towards a beautiful gown placed on her bed, "You cannot wear such unpresentable clothes in front of the royals, you can borrow my dress but you have to wash before wearing it to avoid getting it dirty." Annalise had light droplets of sweat falling along the side of her face and had a look of desperation, you faltered and nodded after her explanation. Once Annalise had taken you into the bath to wash she suddenly left you alone and quickly returned with a shaver. You looked at her questionably but she stumbled on her words and explained, "I do not want to risk finding any of your foreign hair on my undergarments after you return it, plus shaving your nether regions will provide you with more freedom!" Although Annalise did not make sense, you bobbed your head and allowed her to shave all the hair on your body, you were as hairless as the day you were born and felt your cheeks grow hot from the embarrassment of another person seeing your body, the only other living being on earth who'd seen you this bare was Mother Linda when she took care of you as a child.

Annalise quickly finished your bath and as she was dressing you, you began to realize that the dress was a little too beautiful for simply stripping bedrooms, the other maid that you saw whenever you came to collect or return sheets never wore anything this fancy, "Annalise, I do not think this dress is appropriate...it's too beautiful, I think it best if I wear the same dresses that the other maids wear..." Annalise frowned and smacked your mouth to punish you for talking rudely towards someone with higher status. "You will not be stripping just any room, did you not listen to me earlier? You will be stripping the rooms of the royals! While I strip the Prince's room, you will be stripping the Crown Prince's room." You hung your head down and nodded, your mouth stung from how hard Annalise smacked you, she looked at you and paused for a moment, she sighed, "I will not apologize for punishing you, but I will apologize for how hard I smacked you, I am under a lot of stress, so please do not take offense." You nodded again and did your best to suck back the tears threatening to slip out.

After Annalise finished getting you ready, she led you to a large room and instructed you to fix the room up. “Make sure that before the Crown Prince comes drink this, it is important you do not forget to drink it!” Annalise placed the drink of unknown substance onto the table by the bed. She then quickly left to go work in a different room. As you were cleaning and reorganizing the room, you began to find it more and more odd, the more you looked around the more it seemed that this was not a guest room, there were personal belongings, books, and even a few pieces of clothes that were in the closet, although it made you uneasy, you choose to ignore the odd feeling, these could just be complimentary items to help make guests feel more comfortable and welcomed, after all the neighboring Crown Prince Loki was quite close to the royal family and often visited.

...

Every now and then you would hear some faint noises of cheering from the festivities of the Crown Princes’ victorious return. The celebration had started not long before the sun began to set. You lit candles as it got darker, but the room was still very dim. After you finished changing the bed sheets, you gathered the old covers and placed them beside the door to remember to take them later as you left. As you were finishing up, you saw something sticking out from under the bed, you got down on all fours and tried to retrieve the item. Suddenly the bedroom door slammed open. Startled, you jumped and bumped your head harshly into the hard wooden bottom frame of the bed.

“You’ve gotten smaller my minx.” A rough voice came from the door. As you scrambled to get up without hitting your head again, loud thundering footsteps made their way to you before stopping behind you as large rough hands suddenly gripped your waist and heaved you back against a large warm frame. Panicked at the sudden contact, you began to thrash as you tried to free yourself of the stranger’s hold. The stranger suddenly yank you around and you were suddenly faced with a face you’d only seen from afar.

“You’re not Annalise...who are you?!” Crown Prince Thor roared at you and pushed you to the ground aggressively as you felt dread wash over you. As your hip throbbed from its impact against the hard floor you tried your best to scramble onto your knees and tried to beg for your life, afraid that you had offended the Prince by not finishing earlier so that Annalise could come and greet him.

“Please your highness, I am so sorry, please show mercy.” Prince Thor kicked your side while he laughed maniacally, but all you heard was the ringing in your ears from the impact your head had made with the floor from his harsh kick to your side. He suddenly stopped laughing and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your face up and forcing you to stare him in the eyes.

“Where is Annalise and why are you wearing her dress?” The ringing in your ears got louder, your vision that was blurred from your tears only worsened with black spots that were starting to block your vision.

“I...I...am working..in Clement's...place...your-" You stumbled and squeaked over your words as you panicked and almost swallowed your tongue that had suddenly become too big for your mouth. Thor lifted you up onto your feet by your hair and bent his face towards you to inspect it.

"Clement? Are you her replacement?" Thor asked with an odd tone before he suddenly released your hair and dropped you back onto the ground after something caught his eye, he walked over to whatever it was. You had forgotten all about it until Thor raised the drink that Annalise had instructed you to drink before the crown prince's arrival. While inspecting it, Thor took a quick sniff of the drink and snapped his attention to you. "Thinking to try the same dirty tricks as her too I see..." Thor stared you down like a predator ready to kill its prey. Feeling afraid, you tried to sprint towards the door that led out of the room, but with both your head pounding and hip throbbing from painful impacts with the floor, you were unsuccessful in your attempted escape and ended up stepping onto the hem of Annalise's dress, causing you to fall and land all your weight onto your wrist, resulting in a 'pop' sound. Thor threw his head back and bellowed out a rambunctiously mocking laugh. He roughly grabbed the back of Annalise's dress and tore it straight down along your whole back, with the back now missing the front of the dress gave way and fell, revealing your breasts to the bite of the cool air.

You screamed as you felt rough hands grip your waist and haul you onto the bed, Thor climbed on top of you before the blink of an eye. Like a madman, he began barbarically gripping onto the dress in random places and tearing it off of you in bits and pieces. You tried to cover yourself with your arms as you screamed and pleaded for help, your screams seemed to please and drive Thor further as he bent over your exposed body and bit your shoulder hard enough to pierce your skin, painting his mouth and face with the deep crimson of your blood. "Scream as much as you'd like whore, no one will come to the aid of a scheming wench like you." Thor grabbed onto your hands and tied them onto the bed's headboard using strips of cloth he'd ripped from the dress.

With your body bare, save for a few scraps of the dress still doing its best to hang onto your body, Thor's mouth travelled down along your body from his bite on your shoulder, to the valley between your breasts, skimming along your stomach, and towards your freshly shaven pussy. You kicked your legs wildly after feeling him bite down onto your inner thigh, just shy of your vulnerable pussy. Thor's large arms wrapped around each thigh, holding them in place on each shoulder and framing his face just right for full access and view of your quivering pussy; he moaned a deep breathless sound from the back of his throat at what he saw before him, "Oh what a sight, such a beautiful cunt, such a shame to not have a taste before I destroy it." Thor teased you with light kitten-like licks on your pussy lips, his tongue barely grazing over your blooming clit that began to come out of hiding. He chuckled darkly after your body jumped after he cruelly gave your pussy a fright with a sudden full force lick, placing just the right amount of pressure onto your clit as he expertly worked his tongue across it.

Your mind clouded from the pleasure being forced onto your body, you bent your head back and moaned as you experienced new feelings you'd never known before. Seeing that you were distracted, Thor stuck his tongue into your weeping hole, at the new feeling you gasped for air and keened at the odd sensation that overcame you from feeling something intrude inside you for the first time ever. The pressure of unknown feeling began to overtake you, making you worry for your sanity. Seeing you at a mental war, Thor tighten his right arm around your leg to reach for your engorged clit and began rubbing it as his tongue continued its exploration of your insides, you felt a snap from the pit of your stomach as your pussy clenched around his tongue and your back arched, throwing your head to the side and screaming your release into the sheets and blankets surrounding you.

After coming down from your intense orgasm, Thor released your legs and took advantage of your clouded state of mind to undress himself and free his pre-cum leaking cock. You tried to gather yourself and thoughts but it was too late to realize that Thor's thick cock was kissing your sweet pussy, mixing his pre-cum with your slick. Thor gripped your hips with his rough hands, holding you in place and thrusting into you in one go as your eyes widened and you screamed louder than the day you took your first breath of air outside your mother's womb.

Thor paused and stared at where you two were connected with an incredulous look, "You were a maiden?" He tilted his head and let out a breathless chuckle of disbelief, "It seems even virginal women have no respect for themselves these days" Thor shook his head and released your hips from his tight hold, he covered your body with his as he placed his arms on each side of your weeping form. Thor stuck his tongue out and licked your cheek covered tears, he groaned at the taste and began to pull himself out of you before violently thrusting back into your over stretched pussy.

Thor continued his assault on your body for what seemed like hours, your mind slowly began to cloud again with pleasure as your cries turned into moans and whimpers of confused lustful need. Thor had dumped bucket-fulls of cum into you, causing the room to fill with the sound of your mix-liquids squelching each time his hips drove back down to thrust into your cock-hungry pussy. You looked to your side and saw that many of the new candles you'd lite had completely melted and were long dead.

As the night went on and dawn neared, Thor suddenly raised back up, straightening his back and gripped onto your hips as his thrust became erratic and his groans got louder, you knew that he was about to snap again as well. Thor caught sight of your mixed fluids creating spiderwebs each time his cock pulled away, only to be pulled back into your awaiting cunt, he threw his head back and groaned loudly in pleasure. He bent forwards and untied your bleeding wrists from the bed's frame, pulling you towards him and forcing you to look down at the glorious sight he'd seen, "This is what you wanted, for your crown prince to fuck and destroy your cunt, to take your maidenhood and release you back into the world as the true whore that you really are." You had cried yourself dry of tears and could only shake your head in protest, his words couldn't be more wrong, but all you could do was whimper out silent 'no's as he continued to fuck and treat you as a prostitute until he pulled back and jammed back into you with one final thrust, slamming right against a certain patch of nerves in your cunt and causing your eyes to roll back as you felt like you'd just peed yourself, you'd cum'ed many times throughout the night but this one had been the most intense out of them all due to the overstimulated feeling of your used cunt mixed with Thor roughly pressing against your g-spot as he slammed back in the last time. "Oh fuck me, did you just squirt? What a truly nasty whore you are..." Thor gripped the back of your head and forced your head back to spit into your mouth, covering it and your nose with his hand, only moving it to allow you to breathe once he saw that you swallowed his spit reluctantly in order to fill your lungs with air.

Thor crumpled atop you and crushed your body with his, making it impossible for you to breathe as he tried to catch his own breath. He bit, sucked, and pulled at your neck where he rested his head as he withdrew his cock out of you and reached a hand down to gather some of your mixed fluids that leaked from your abused cunt, bringing it up and forcing you to suck 'n lick his covered hand clean. After some time he rolled off of you and fell into a deep sex-sated sleep. Once you were sure he was no longer aware of the world around him, you did your best to limp your way towards the door and wrapped yourself with the dirty bed sheets you'd left on the floor near it, as you snuck your way back to yours and Mother Linda's living space you could hear the sounds of Thor and your mixed liquids as it ran down your legs and made webs with each step you took...

#dark thor x reader #dark avengers #dark thor #medieval au #fantasy world #dark marvel #meant thor #trash writing #junk

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