#new marvel series

[the-bi-fangirl-biatch]

if i got a nickel for seeing a ship end with a chatacter who leaves to do something greater/fulfilling their purpose and help more ppl, but at the expense of leaving the love of their life alone and letting them lose their previous purpose...I'd get two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[grabyoursaintsandpray]

I am deceased

[littlekinng]

and he was right

[theavengers]

New official poster for "Loki" Season 2 (2023)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Reader has accepted that she'll never be wanted, not only by the man she's crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: I could blame yall for talking me into it but we know it's all my fault.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The sharp zip cuts through the air. Lloyd hauls the long black bag up and checks his watch. He struts over to you and shoves the heavy luggage at you, letting it go before you can wrap your arms around it. You nearly topple from the weight.

You grunt and hug it tightly, the long duffle isn't exactly a vacation's worth Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. You can feel the long metal barrels as cases of ammo dig into your arms. You manage to get a hand on the handle and swing it after several tries onto your shoulder.

He's already halfway out the door. You trail after him, nearly stumbling to keep up. He's so tall you often find yourself running after him like a stray dog. So tall and handsome and--

Shut up! That's not what you should be thinking about.

Your phone vibrates and you struggle to pull it out of your pocket. You sigh as Lloyd continues along without notice, whistling casually as he approaches the stairs. Shit.

As he begins down the stairs, you stop at the top, leaning with the pull of the bag. You try to reply to the text as he makes quick progress to the bottom. 

He whistles up at you and snaps his fingers. You pop your head up and amble down the steps, barely catching yourself against the railing as you slip. When you get to the bottom, he's standing at the door, huffing impatiently.

"What's goin' on, kid?"

Kid. That's what he's always called you. Even though you're not that much younger than him. It's never sweetheart or honey like the pretty ones. Just kid.

"Plane's delayed. There's headwinds--"

"Christ's sake," he snarls.

"Sorry, sir, the pilot's trying--"

"Boring," he chops his hand through the air to silence you, "let's go."

He stands by the closed doors. You try not to let his impatience bother you. You can't blame him. He has an important mission. There's no time to be waiting on a cloud cover.

You open the right door and he steps through, tramping down the stone stairs to the mosaic walkway. Once more you're on your toes as you scurry after him. You watch how his jacket stretches between his shoulder blades. His sleeves hug his arm tightly, showing off his hard work and muscle. You shake your head, stop. Ten years. You know better.

You're out of breath as you get the idling car. Jackson, the driver nods but is similarly ignored as he opens the door for Lloyd. You go to the trunk as it pops and you put the gun bag inside.

You get in the other side as Lloyd splays his legs out and unlocks his phone with his thumb. You keep your cell clutched tight and tap it nervously. He doesn't handle roadblocks well, he's the type to demand and get. Something he hired you to make sure of.

"Well, extra time, I guess," he mutters as he swipes across the screen.

The car rolls up the long drive as you check your messages again. Still no updates. You cross one leg over the other as Lloyd's loafer nearly touches your oxford shoe.

"Hmmmm, can't decide on this one," he grumbles and tilts his screen toward you, "what do you think, kid?" He wiggles it at you as you look at the woman on the screen, "tits are nice but the tattoo screams Hep C."

You nearly gasp but just raise your eyebrows instead. He's always looking for a reaction. Your cheeks set alight and you twiddle your fingers around your own phone.

"Well, sir, I… she's pretty."

"Relax, you won't be invited to threesome," he scoffs and leans back, swiping left, "that's what this is for. Variety."

You don't say a word as you bring your hand to the side of your neck, feeling the heat of your skin. It's not just that it's him saying it, it's that gnawing feeling of inadequacy. The mystery of the unknown makes you self-conscious and wary of saying the wrong thing. The same way when you talk to your sister and she tells you about her husband. Well, you don't hear from her much these days.

"I'll send you their info. You can make a few calls before we get back," he snickers, "get everything ready for me."

"Uh, sure, sir, but uh… like I said before, that's not exactly part of my job."

"Don't tell me what your job is," he barks as he blacks his phone, "goddamn, you're always such a tight ass. Usually I'm all for a tight hole but you really know how to squeeze a man by his balls."

"I'm sorry, sir–"

"Another fucking 'sorry, sir' and I'm gonna snap. I can't do eight hours on a flight with you pouting like that."

"Understood, won't happen again," you dip your head down, "sorry, s–"

You clap your hand over your mouth. The words are so habitual they start to fall out before you realise, and yet another urge to say them. Just stop talking. You peek at Lloyd with wide eyes and drop your hand.

"You're a fucking downer, kid," he sits forward, "Jackie, pull the fuck over."

"Yes, sir," the driver replies from the little speaker under the barrier between the front and back seat. "You, get the fuck out."

You're surprised by his sudden flare of anger. There's not much about him that truly shocks you anymore but as irritable as he can be, this is unusual. His agitation has boiled to molten hot in a matter of minutes.

"Sir?"

"You can walk back and start getting shit ready. I mean, we'll see if you can since you can't get the goddamn plane on the ground," he growls as the car pulls onto the gravel wing of the road. "You're getting fucking soft, kid."

"Sir, I didn't–"

"You did. You fucking killed my boner so get out," he shoos you with his finger and unlocks his phone again, "buh bye."

You hesitate. You slowly move to the door and let yourself out. You're buzzing in disbelief. He can be a jerk, you're used to that, but this all seems so abrupt. You can only assume there's something else bothering him.

You shut the door as you stand on the side of the road. You hear Lloyd's deep timbre muffled inside the car before it pulls away. You stare after it, crossing your arms as you sniff and the sun glares along the edge of your vision.

You slowly turn and face the horizon. You're not that far. Maybe twenty minutes. Well, the single silver lining. You can't help your disappointment. You look forward to missions. It's an excuse to be with Lloyd. A reason for him to put up with you.

You set off, trodding along without urgency. There's nothing at the compound for you. It's not like you go on every mission but it's the unexpected change that gets you. More so, his temper. You see it aimed at others more than yourself.

Your phone buzzes again. The plane's landed. That's good news. As you continue your trek, you dial out to Lloyd's phone and put the speaker to your ear. No answer. Several more tries have a similar result, the last call clicking dead right away.

You send a text and it bounces back as undeliverable. You don't get it, your signal is strong. It's a military grade phone. You slide your phone away and try not to let your anxiety get the best of you.

He wouldn't block your number, would he? 

You're not special, that much is clear, but you've stuck around so long that you just can't see it ending over one slip-up. Sure, Lloyd has screamed agents out of the compound, he's even stranded them in hostile grounds, but they weren't there as long as you've been.

You drag your feet as you approach the gate. You let yourself in with the code and ignore the gazes of agents as you cross the yard and go back inside.

All this and for what?

If Lloyd fires you, you've spent ten years pent up in places like this, doing his grunt work. The tail end of your twenties and much of your thirties traded for imagined cues and empty hopes. You accepted long ago that Lloyd would never see you, just the woman he called 'kid', but the thought of losing even that makes you want to cry. You can accept that you're not as good as the models he fucks around with, but you can't accept not being there at all.

You're overreacting. You always do this. It's always the end of the world.

Lloyd will come back and everything will go back to normal. You're the only one who gets his coffee right and knows that he hates mushrooms but loves Salisbury steak. He needs you, just not like you want him to.

❤️��🩹

Radio silence. You don't hear from him and any message you try to send is unanswered. He's on a mission, he's in blackout mode, yet you can't help but be paranoid.

Without him to order you around, you're not quite sure what to do with yourself. It's sad but that's just who you are. You're not the one doing, you're the one listening to those who do. 

The first day is the worst of it. On the second, you're not as addled and a bit relieved not to be hidden in some safe house waiting for a signal or listening to Lloyd make sick jokes. Still, you'd rather be with him.

The second night, you expect some sort of word from him. Still nothing. 

You lay in bed, restless. You don't dream about him anymore, you don't close your eyes and think about what it'd be like to be beautiful or interesting, you know it will never happen. But you worry about him. That you'll never be rid of.

The third morning, a Saturday, you go down to make your coffee. Other agents mill about as the tech crew speak into their headsets and type furiously. Something’s going on.

You near the doorway and listen in, trying to discern the chaos. There's cams to switch cameras and directions given, coordinates read out and warnings about oncoming targets. It's the usual, the same chatter you listen to over the comms when Lloyd's out in the field. Now you can only hear one side.

As the tempo builds, there's another furor. The chime that signals the censor at the front gate. Rico storms out of comms central as you flatten yourself to the wall and wait to trail him until he's past the stairs.

"What the fuck is going on?" He waves an agent in black close, "who the fuck is here?"

The agent puts his fingers to his earpiece, "we have sights."

"I asked who it was, not if you can make a shot," Rico shoves the man and stomps to the front doors, shoving them open before him. "Tell them to go the fuck away."

An agent runs up the driveway, puffing as he holds his gun securely in front of him. He stops as Rico gets to the bottom of the stairs 

"Sir, sir, it's… it's Valhalla."

"Val-what?" Rico snips.

"Valhalla!" The man repeats louder.

"Shit. Fuck." Rico continues in a rampant flurry of Spanish, "they're early."

"Sir," the agent bows his head as another appears before him.

You frown and watch from the doorway, trying to stay out of sight as you eavesdrop. 

Hm. Valhalla. You know the name, rather well, but only through correspondence. A code name. For a faceless man and his deep pockets. You hadn't heard it recently though. You thought that whole thing fizzled out.

"Fuck, Hansen, take your fucking time," Rico mutters between his Spanish diatribes, "let them in. Full search." You hear him clop back up the stairs before he blusters inside, "I need men. Now!"

He turns and sees you cradling your coffee with a dumb look. He sneers and rolls his eyes, "perfect. You'll do. We need rooms. We have guests."

"What?" You squint. 

"You're a woman, you should know how to make them at home."

"You're not my boss," you grimace and drink your coffee.

"Don't get smart with me just because that idiot keeps sniffing at his heels. Go and do something useful for once," he claps at you.

You don't move. You take orders from one person. Otherwise, you stay out of the way.

"Fuck!" He hollers and twists on his heel again.

He marches into the next room and you slowly near the front doors, still ajar as they gape out at the golden day. You come outside and descend the steps, standing just by the plinthed flower vase at the bottom. You watch the gates roll apart, letting in the convoy lined outside.

There are four cars in total. All ivory and gleaming. They hardly seem like military vehicles.

You don't get it. You pull out your phone and scroll through your emails. The last message you got from Valhalla was months ago and it left you at a stalemate between them and your indomitable boss.

The first car pulls up and stops, the other fanning out behind it. Agents circle, keeping a broad perimeter as they watch with similar intrigue. Rico appears again, muttering to himself as he holsters a gun.

You look back to the grated bumper of the luxury SUV. The engine rolls over as you find yourself holding your breath. This is it, the vaunted Valhalla. You keep your mug close to your chest as the car door opens and your jaw nearly hits the floor.

It's a man more gorgeous than anyone you've ever seen before. Well, maybe not everyone but damn close. His golden hair is braided down his back and a few wavy strands hang loose around his face. His sky blue eyes shine in the sunlight as he smiles, the expression lining his face immaculately. You gulp and force your mouth shut.

There's a brief lull before anyone reacts. Rico is the first to snap into action. He clamours down and offers a hand, "Valhalla, hello, Rico. Hansen is in the field but I will be your host."

"Ah, Rico," Valhalla repeats with a keen lilt, "you'll do for the time being."

His blue eyes scan the facade of the compound. It appears nothing more than a remote and overpriced mansion. The man takes a deep breath as if tasting the air and pauses as his gaze falls upon you. His brows twitch but he does not react otherwise.

He turns back to Rico and claps his back, "well, we traveled far, we require food and sleep and if you can spare it, lots of alcohol."

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Actual footage of Steven in the headspace watching Jake front

GIF FROM THE AMAZING @nowritingonthewall

Where did you even find this footage??

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 16

Cold Compress | Loki x Reader

After fleeing the court of The Golden Palace, Loki follows and reveals a secret of his own in an effort to console you. But his new form is more than just comforting...

Warning: 18+. sexual content and language. I mean it. Jotun Lokiincluding - size difference, oral sex (m & f receiving) frottage, fingering/large insertion. Hyperspermia. Capital S for SMUT

A/N: I used What If...Loki and thought about an average size woman to compare. This really is just self-indulgent smut so can be read standalone if you're not following the series.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

The wrath that had sent your fire reeling banked at the cool touch of Loki’s hands around your waist. In one moment you were a raging inferno, destroying every artefact, every decoration and drape in your path, sending other gods fleeing back into side rooms and up onto the balconies. The next you were cradled so softly in his arms, his touch pushing back your anger like a cool breeze on a summer day. 

The burnt cinders of the corridor were gone and you found yourself alone in a similarly vast marble throne room, sealed from floor to ceiling in onyx black marble, seams of gold tracing through the wide blocks into an endless ceiling, twinkling with candlelight. 

Loki held you to his chest, petting the back of your head and down your arms, quenching the fire under his touch and, when you finally looked at him, he still held that pale blue hue that had appeared when he created a sedir shield against your explosive anger. 

“Asynja,” Loki breathed your name like a prayer, cupping your cheek and drawing you closer. 

“Loki,” you sobbed, collapsing back into his chest and allowing your tears to fall freely, “I don’t want to join any of their families.” You finally let the tears flow, now that your anger was subsiding, and your fear rose swiftly to the surface. 

“No one can make you go with them, my darling,” Loki soothed, but you still hiccuped around another sob. “I promise, as long as I am beside you, my darling Asynja, no one shall take you from me. Do you understand?” He pulled back to look down at you, his eyes brimming with a potent mixture of anger and possessiveness. 

“I understand,” you took a deep breath, but the flames that had surrounded you continued to dance around your feet and temples. “It’s just - it’s an awful lot to deal with so suddenly.” 

“I know, I too have experienced a revelation about my parentage, and the powers that come with it.” He kept his eyes steady with yours but you could tell from the twitch in his jaw that he was holding his emotions back. 

Confused you allowed your gaze to rove over him for the first time, he didn’t appear to be hurt by the flames but he still looked different somehow. 

“You’re blue.” 

“Yes,” Loki laughed a little, “I am blue. I thought it might help you to see that you are not alone in discovering new things about yourself and that you are also not alone in being frightened. Although this is only part of my other body.” He admitted. 

You took Loki’s hand, colder than usual, and led him into the centre of the ballroom before tugging him to sit on the floor beside you. “What are you frightened of?” Your dress pooled around you, shimmering slightly, and Loki carefully arranged your skirts so that he could press as close to you as possible. 

“I imagine the same as you, what I will become, should I let the truth of my nature show.” 

“And what is your true nature?” You took his hand and traced the darker blue lines that had appeared along the back, dipping between his fingers. 

“Odin was not my father, my father was Laufey, of Jotenheim, King of the Frost Giants. That is why I am Loki Laufeyson. Father, Odin, used to say that both Thor and I were born to sit upon the throne. It was only recently I learnt that he meant separate thrones and not a joint ruling of the kingdom as I’d believed. I had imaged that we would share responsibilities, divided by our personal skills in both warring and intrigue. But father had other plans. My brother, of Asgard, would rule over the people that we love, the home that I knew. Yet I, the son stolen from his homeland, was destined for a throne in a room I did not remember, a people I did not know, a land I have visited but once.” He choked on his words, fighting the emotion he’d tamped down for so long. 

“Oh, Loki, I’m so sorry. He should never have kept that from you, or teased you and Thor like that.” You squeezed his hands tighter and Loki turned to give you a sad smile. 

“Fear not, darling, I do not wish for a throne, it is no great disappointment to me that it belongs to another.”

“What are you afraid of then?” 

“My form, this is a body, a form, that I was given as a child by my mother. Frost Giants are unlike Asgardians, I fear that my Jotun form would be a terrifying prospect for all around me, there is precious little regard for me as it is, I should hate to ruin my reputation further.” Loki smiled again, patting your hand. “We should leave, we can return to Tonsberg as planned, we’ll be safe there and we can put this whole sorry mess to rest. We have no need to fear prophecies, we can write our own futures.” Loki seemed so sure, confident that he could walk away from this threat as he had so many others that you almost believed him. 

Perhaps you could, but you would have no secrets between you if you did. 

You allowed him to rise, but tugged him back when he offered you his hand, “show me.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Show me, let it go, be a Jotun, show me.” You repeated, raising your eyebrows and watching him expectantly. “I already saw your skin go sort of blue, what else happens?” 

Loki looked almost bashful, “really, darling, I have no concept of what might happen. Frost Giants can be ten feet tall, I would not wish to risk any harm coming to you.” 

“Loki, please, look at the size of this room,” you both looked up at the ceiling, though it was so high you could barely see it, shrouded as it was in the darkness of the marble. 

“If you insist,” he conceded, “but only for you, my darling.” 

Loki stepped further from you, and as he did he began to change subtly. When Loki used his sedir the change could be tracked by the journey of the magic over his body, but this was different. He grew taller and as you watched you missed his hair lengthening, growing down his back. His skin, an icey blue, was marked with more and more intricate designs and his eyes became red. His growth slowed and you stared up at him. Naked and in his full glory for the first time. 

Loki must have been at least ten feet tall, if not more, though the ballroom ceiling was still far away he could reach up and touch the cascading chandeliers, he was certainly towering over you, sprawled as you were on the floor, attempting to take in his full height. 

“Wow.” You continued to stare, your hand reaching out for him. 

“Is wow a positive expression?” Loki asked, his voice still the same, though louder now. The sound vibrated through you and you clenched your legs together. 

“Uh - definitely a good thing.” Loki was always beautiful, but this form, so tall and broad, muscular and strong, so purely alien. He was truly a god and you felt small before him. “I bet you could pick me up with one hand.” You said, touching his calf absently. 

Loki laughed in response and you felt hot, you hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it had taken you by surprise how attractive you found this form. 

“Probably,” he quirked an eyebrow. “Shall we find out what else we could do?” 

Loki bent down on her haunches and extended a hand towards you. His hands were still decorated with whirls of darker blue, and you traced them with your own fingers. With a grin he scooped you up, knocking you backwards so that you landed in his open palms.

Shocked, you gazed up at him open mouthed and his smile didn’t fade, instead it morphed into the teasing grin that knew you were in for both pleasure and mischief. 

In this form you looked different too, although Loki was always taller he had certainly never viewed you like this. So small and vulnerable in his hand. He clenched his fingers gently, folding his thumb over your waist and circling your back with his fingers. You curled your arms around his thumb, hanging on tightly. 

When he stood you shook, each of your movements amplified in his palm, as if he was back catching creatures in the forests of his youth, a nymph of his own to play with. He clenched his jaw against the thought - a plaything. His own goddess to play with. 

“You look so - delicate.” He cooed, keeping his voice lower now you were closer to him. 

“You look enormous.” You choked out, heat spreading over your chest and neck despite the chill of his touch. “Please, Loki, distract me from all this?” You asked, he had been right, this was exactly what you needed to feel less alone, less strange in this alien world. But now you needed more of him, you’d never get enough of anything that Loki could offer you, you’d take every facet of him, every version. 

“What do you require of me, my tiny darling.” Loki lifted you higher, holding you to his cheek, your legs dangled in the air but your arms reached forward, touching his cold skin. 

You leant towards him, pressing your lips against the expanse of smooth skin that covered his still sharp cheekbones, and pressed tickling kisses there, “make me forget, Loki. Please?” 

“How could I deny such a polite request.” He cupped his other hand around you and, in a warm shimmer of magic, you felt your clothes vanish from your body. Still surrounded by his fingers your skin tingled, erupting in goosebumps at the press of his cold palm. 

Loki lifted you back towards his face and pursed his lips, blowing warm air into his cupped hands and you giggled. You’d been expecting him to launch into some debauched idea of his, knowing that at least ten crackled around his thoughts at all times, but his playfulness caught you off guard as it always did. 

“Loki!” You squirmed in his grasp and he held you all the tighter for it, bringing you back to his lips. This time he opened his hands and held you still, his second thumb covering your arms over your head so you couldn’t move, and then kissed the soft swell of your stomach. His lips were as cold as the rest of him, but as gentle as ever.

You giggled again, heat skittering over your skin and then shooting between your legs. His thumb swiped over your body and he kissed you again and again, turning you this way and that to find a spot on your side, on your hip, that he hadn’t yet worshipped. 

“My darling,” he sighed, tipping his hand back so that you fell into his palm again, sprawled before him, “what a delicious little morsel you are.” His smile was vulpine and the only warning you got before he licked you, his tongue dipping between your spread legs and swiping up towards your breasts. You squealed in surprise, trying to close your legs but his fingers tangled over them, holding you open and he licked and licked, pausing only to blow gusts of cold air over the heat of your flesh. 

“I could eat you forever and never be satiated.” Loki fit his tongue between your legs, teasing the tip against your entrance until you felt him stretch you gently. He angled his tongue upwards, humming softly and you swore you saw all the stars exploding as the vibrations thrummed through your bones. Loki continued, tilting his face forwards so that he nose pressed on your lower stomach, his tongue still angling upwards and your body sang for him, taut and ready. 

“You’re devine,” he cooed, the rush of his words like a breeze, cooling your slick as it ran down your sticky thighs. 

“Please, Loki, I can’t - I need - I want to cum - I’m going to - agh!” 

Like a sacrificial offering he kept you pinned open until you were begging, pleading for more, the ever tightening coil of your arousal turned and turned in your stomach until you could take no more, gushing onto his tongue with a scream of pained pleasure. The sensations were overwhelming, heat and cold and pressure and pleasure and ecstasy all rolled into one. 

Loki gave you a few seconds to recover before he lay you onto the table, sprawled before him. 

“You are truly a feast, Asynja. Look at you, covered in us both and still smiling.” He kissed your cheek the best he could, swiping his thumb over your belly and thighs, rubbing in his kisses. 

Your chest heaved, sweat cooling between your breasts and you longed for his touch again, even if it was icy, anything but this loneliness now that he had put you down. 

“Loki -” you gasped, reaching for him and finding one of his large hands, your hand barely fit around his finger but his touch was soothing and pleasant on your heated skin.

He brushed his thumb over your breasts, around your nipples, down, down until he could lift your leg and cup you again, his thumb covering your folds and applying pressure to your aching clit. Your body no longer belonged to you, given over to the pleasure that touch created, your hips lifted, rolling into the pad of his thumb and he let you, a satisfied smile on his face as your pace increased, riding his hand. With an obscene moan you arched from the table and into his awaiting touch. 

“You’re not satisfied, darling?” He smirked as you looked at him with heavily lidded eyes, “I promise I’m going nowhere until you are completely sated,” he bent over the table, looming over you and filling your senses, “we shall only leave when you are panting, crying for me to stop.” Loki kissed the side of your face, close enough that you could twine your hands in his hair in an effort to keep him there, so close you thought you could breathe him in. Despite all of the changes to his body, his hair felt the same, soft and silky and smelt like the expensive shampoo he insisted on using. It blended with his usual deep amber scent and something else, perhaps something Jotun, that reminded you of snowy days and icey nights. 

“God - Loki - I - fuck me, please.” 

You both looked down at the sizable erection tenting his magically enlarged trousers, his words rumbled through you, his lips still at your cheek, “I do not wish to break you, my Asynja, perhaps something else may sate your lusts.” His cock bobbed under his trousers, twitching in time with his words, and you knew without looking in his eyes that he was using every ounce of his self control not to at least try and push himself deep inside of you. 

Suddenly his thumb was gone and you gave a low whine at the loss, dropping a hand between your legs to try and continue the glorious cresting of your impending orgasm, but Loki moved your hand away. 

“Patience, darling,” he chided, still cupping the backs of your legs, tugging you to the edge of the long table. Instead of his thumb he stroked his pinky finger down your stomach, one hand keeping you still, the other drawing teasing circles over your belly button, lower and lower with each circle. 

Even his smallest finger felt enormous, Loki in his usual size was enough of a stretch and heat flooded through you at the thought of trying to take even his finger. 

“Lo’,” you were incoherent now, thrashing on the table with every movement, but he pressed on, the pad of his finger at your entrance, spreading your arousal over your clit and pushing slowly, intently, until you felt yourself stretch around him. 

“Norns, Asynja, you are the most delicious woman in the nine kingdoms, in every realm, every universe, every time,” he cooed, pressing further until you keened, your hands rushing back between your legs as if to both stop and continue the onslaught of pleasure. 

You had never been so full in your life, so full and so loved, held as you were between Loki’s gigantic hands, his lips kissing away the sweat on your brow, sparkling like diamonds in the low light. 

“Loki, I - I -” your fingers struggled to find purchase in his hair - on his hands, slipping over his arousal soaked skin and you were dimly aware that that was the feel of you, hot and slick between you, dripping onto the table, before your orgasm hit you at full force, just from the stretch alone. 

“Good girl, Asynja,” Loki growled, moving only slightly as your walls clenched around him, he could feel very flutter and movement on his sensitive fingertips and then you gushed, squirting over his finger and soaking the his chin where he perched between your legs. 

Loki’s red eyes went darker, a blood red full of his widened pupil and drinking in every inch of your sweating, heaving body, your velvet skirts pushed up around your waist and bare legs shining with your arousal. 

“Fuck, Loki - that was -” you dropped your head back onto the table with a thunk, staring glassy eyed at the lights twinkling above. 

“It’s my pleasure, my darling.” He drawled, grin feral, tongue poking out between blue teeth. The first lap was soothing on your heated skin, sending goosebumps up and down your legs. 

You peered up, tucking your head into your chest to view the god between your legs, still worshipping you, still thinking only of you. It was overwhelming, his devotion, and you wanted - needed, to make him feel the same. 

Carefully you eased yourself to the edge of the table, level with his smiling face, and then you let your feet drop to the floor, a hand on his bare chest, pushing him backwards until he lay on the marble floor. Loki was the only other colour in the room, a bright star in the darkness. The bulge of his trousers was pressing against the zipper and you carefully settled on his hip, pushing your hands against the fabric. 

It was Loki’s turn to groan now, the sound a deep rumble that travelled down his body and back between your legs. A fresh wave of arousal made itself known, but you tamped down your feelings. It was Loki’s turn now. 

He helped you to tug the zipper down, freeing his impossibly large cock from its prison. 

“Fuck.” The word was out before you could stop it and you left your mouth hanging open while you took in his full glory. In his Asgardian form Loki was already generously endowed. But as  Jotun - you placed your hand against the firm length and marvelled at how delicate his skin still felt, albeit colder than normal. His cock twitched beneath your palm and a large bead of precum slithered from the tip, tracing the contours of a thick vein that ran up the bottom. 

“Please -” Loki whimpered, his hands twitching. One came to wrap around your waist, gently holding you, the other he clenched in the fabric of his trousers. 

“Can I taste?” 

“Yes - of course, please, Asynja, do not torment me, can you not feel how I ache for you. How my body needs you?” 

He squeezed his eyes closed, the sound of fabric ripping slowly accompanying the tightening of his first. 

“I’d hate to leave you aching, my Prince.” You teased, leaning forwards and wrapping your hands around as much of his girth as you could. Tugging yourself closer to him you let your tongue dancing over his throbbing vein, arching higher towards the flare around the head. Marvelling at the beautiful shades his Jotun form afford him, you missed a second roll of precum escaping down the side and soaking your arm. 

“Norns -” Loki clenched his jaw, “I must apologise for -” 

“Please, don’t.” You knelt up and licked him again, eagerly tasting as much of him as you could. “You taste a little different, it’s fascinating.” 

“Asynja,” he warned.

“Well -” you licked, “you do.” 

Reaching the sensitive head you dipped your face towards his slit, pressing your nose into the soft flesh and pushing your tongue down, swirling it and pulsing as he did to you. You were rewarded with more and more of his cum, weeping past your pressing fingers. 

“Asynja, I cannot hold back any longer - my darling -” 

His cock pulsed, you could feel it against your body were you had pressed yourself against the entire length of him and it felt devine. Your body responded, clit aching for the feel of it. 

“Do that again,” you begged, rubbing yourself against him, pushing on his length until you were lying on his stomach, wrapped around him, legs thrown over his base, toes curling. 

The hand at your waist squeezed too and you felt the sensation of him moving you gently, the drag and pull of skin on skin, your pussy wet and wanting against his cock. 

“You feel so fucking good, my darling, I can’t help it, your little body is perfection, made for me, made for my cock.” 

You mewled, licking and sucking at his rigid length, thrusting your hips into him in seach of your own pleasure. 

“I’m going to cum, Asynja and you haven’t even tried to move away.” He growled, his voice wavering as he neared his release. 

“Don’t want to, Lo, I want your cum, want you to drench me in it, want you to use me and rub me on your beautiful cock, please - please!” Your sobs of pleasure joined his own, a deep knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. 

“My goddess, my princess, my darling I will give you every drop you wish for.” He promised, fingers so tight you knew you’d have an array of bruises to enjoy tomorrow, but now, plunged into the most exquisite pleasure you’d ever felt, you latched onto the spot below his glands and sucked and sucked and - 

Loki came with a shout, chasing your own release with each pulse of his cock, and spurted down your arms and hands, your back and legs. He painted his own chest in ropes and ropes of cum until he sighed, releasing your body and sagging into the floor. 

Slowly he shrank until you were lying chest to chest on the cold floor and laughing. 

“Loki, please tell me we can do that again.” You mumbled into his chest, lazily kissing his now, slightly warmer, skin. 

“I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.” He agreed, “although I think we may traumatise my poor brother should he stumble upon us. Perhaps it’s time we find him and return to Tonsberg?” 

“Can’t we stay here and have a nap?” You closed your eyes defiantly, hoping he’d give in despite how uncomfortable you both were. 

“Sadly, I can not allow a Goddess, such as yourself, to take her rest on a such an appalling hard surface. Only the finest pillows and sheets will do for you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “luckily, I know just such a place.” 

<< Chapter 15

Chapter 17 >>

[kevinfeiges]

Around the MCU → S.H.I.E.L.D. (Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division)

[samsayswhatever]

Loki and Mobius over time: Lokius ❤️

[wowitslowki]

My hot take is that I don't want there to be a season 3. This ending wrapped everything up so perfectly, making another season feels unnecessary and would honestly cheapen the impact of it.

What I DO want, however, is a movie. I could do with a movie.

[godofstory]

I need Owen wilson to become the new Misha; I want him to say some crazy thing from behind the scenes every chance he gets; I want him to say things like " oh we did actually recorded a love confesion but it was cut out;I think Sophia still has it on her phone" and make the fandom go crazy every month; I also want Tom to say stuff like "oh yeah my wife calls Owen our boyfriend"

[strangerinthelight]

Thought a little too hard about if Loki and Mobius were reunited and finally had what they wanted, and were then torn apart once again by some insurmountable force, and I honestly have a feeling that if Marvel ever brought them back that’s exactly what they would do

[ohshinytrinketsmine]

My Marvellous Dream is You (Trailer)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, borderline bullying, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen, Thor Odinson

Note: I hope you all have a great day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, at least on your end. Lloyd chews loudly, licking his chops, and sucking his fingers loudly. The rose tint is tinged gray.

You pull into the compound and shift into park sharply. You don't move as you wait for Lloyd to get out. He wastes no time ditching you, letting out a shameless belch as he drops down onto the ground. The door snaps shut behind him and you huff.

You look over at the garbage left in his place. That's exactly where you belong. Right there with the trash.

You swipe up the crumple bag filled with wrappers and his half-finished soda. The keys jingle against the paper cup as you swipe your phone out behind you. You dump what's left of the espresso from your own cup and sheath it around the other.

You elbow the door shut and cross the dark grounds. The moon is a sliver that offers little light in the dark. You approach the doors and enter to the muted ruckus of voices and clinking bottles. Yet another night of debauchery. You don't know how Lloyd hasn't fallen right in with his guests.

You go to the kitchen and jam the bag and cups deep in the bin. You have half the mind to go through the fridge and get rid of all those meals you slaved over. Just like everything else, he'll spit it back in your face.

You flip open the door and stop yourself. No, no, he got the reaction he wanted, you're only shooting your own foot at this point. 

Your eyes center on a dark bottle with a silver label. Fuck it. You snatch the prosecco and swing the fridge shut.

You march back down the hall and ignore the din that seeps through from the dining room and various other doorways. You go upstairs to your room and close yourself in, letting the wood slam into the frame. You're not even mad at him, you're furious at yourself. Why can't you just accept it?

You drop the keys on the dresser, your phone too, and keep the bottle in hand. You untwist the wire around the cork and toss it aside. You push with your thumb until it pops and a fizzle escapes the long neck. 

You watch the wisp that rises and you gulp straight from the bottle. You cringe as your eyes water from bubbles and the stringently sweet wine floods your mouth. You gulp until you can't anymore. A quarter of the bottle down, you plunk it on the nightstand and let it sink into your veins.

You undress lazily and leave your clothes on the floor. You don't give a fuck. For one night, you just don't want to think. Hell, if you drink enough, you might just do something real stupid.

You grab the bottle and carry it into the bathroom. As you bend over to twist the faucet, the wine creeps into your brain, hazing your vision in warmth. You pull the lever for the stopper and slowly push yourself straight.

You lean on the porcelain and take another swig. You pop your mouth off the rim and lift one leg, then the other. You ease into the tub, splashing slightly as the water flows higher and higher.

You lean your head back, resting the bottle against the edge as you grip it tight. The ripples around you and beneath the skin and numb the ache in your chest. You close your eyes, drinking without thinking, guzzling until your stomach is full and the tub is nearly full.

You lay as you are, basking in the heat of the water. You could fall asleep right there. Just drift beneath the surface.

That thought jerks you awake. You sit up, dizzy, and get to your knees clumsily. You reach over the side to clunk the bottle onto the tile. You flip the stopper and lift yourself.

You get out, feet crashing onto the bathmat. You cling to the tub and take a breath. You reach for the bar and drag the towel off. You don't feel too bad, just a bit unsteady.

You wrap yourself up and teeter as you bend to grab the bottle. You clamber towards the door. You nudge it all the way open with your elbow.

As you enter the room, you stagger to a halt. You don't expect the figure sitting on your bed, watching you enter as he faces the bathroom door. You blink and squeeze the bottle tighter. 

You're buzzed. No, you're drunk.

You skin singes with self-awareness. Not only of the alcohol that dulls your mind but of the single piece of fabric around you.

“It's not healthy to drink alone,” Thor grins, a paper crinkles between his fingers, “or other things.”

He shows the slip of paper and you shake your head. He clicks his tongue and squints at it, “didn't take you for a cherry girl.”

“Huh?” You tilt your head, confused until you recall hastily hiding away the receipt in your pants. Fuck.

“I don't really use lube myself. Don't need it,” he reaches to drop the paper on the night table.

“What are you…” you clamp your lips shut as a hiccup rises. You swallow it and sway. 

“I don't make promises I don't keep, “ he stands, towering over you as he comes closer.

“You… it was a joke, wasn't it?” You babble dumbly.

“Why would I joke about that?” He stops before you and wraps his hand around the bottle, “mm, not much for bubbly,” he wiggles it free and swiftly empties what's left before examining the empty bottle, “how was your little business trip, eh?”

You frown and cross your arms over the top of the towel, “why are you here?” You ask again.

“I told you–”

“No, why… why did you come here? He hates you.”

“I got that sense of him,” Thor chortles, “doesn't bother me much.” He backs away and sets the bottle on the receipt, “I'm here to play with him. Have a bit of fun. However, he's not as amusing as I hoped. But you…”

“I…” you shake your head, “I'm drunk. I need to lay down.”

“Happily,” he winks as he reaches for you.

You sidle away, “please, I…” you swallow and your eyes flit around, “I can't–”

“Because of him? You’re wasting your time,” he latches onto your hand and draws it away from your chest, “he doesn't deserve you, little lamb.”

“I don't… it isn't because of him…”

“You're a poor liar,” he tuts, “shouldn't take your lessons from him.”

“Stop,” you try to tug away.

“You don't know what you need,” he drags you towards the bed, “it isn't him.”

“Please,” you whimper.

“You don't need to be nervous, I can be nice, kitten,” he purrs as he yanks you against him.

“I can't–” you squeak into a yelp as the towel falls away from your body, “Thor, please–”

“Louder,” he swiftly picks you up with his hands on your ass. 

You writhe against him as he spins and falls with you onto the mattress. It bounces under you and you nearly choke on your tongue. You slap his chest as he leans over you and smothers your mouth with his.

You close your eyes as they tingle and you dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt. You whimper and feel around with your other hand as he kneads your ass. You're overcome by his brusqueness. More so, you can't handle the touch, the way his hot breath consumes you, and that flicker on your core that has the vision of another flashing in your mind.

You turn your head and let out a croak as your tears leak out, “I can't,” you whine, “you're right, okay? I want him. I'm a stupid girl that wants someone like him.”

You bring your hand up to shield your face as he lifts himself on his elbow. He hovers over you as you devolve into sobs, “I'm pathetic.”

“Shhhh,” the soft stroke along your cheek startles you, “little kitty,” he slithers, “shhh.”

He shifts and comes down to his side. He slips his arm under your neck as you curl up, trying to disappear. He rolls you towards him so your face is against his shoulder. He pets your head as he holds you.

“Oh, little one,” he cooes, “it hurts now… but I can make it so much better.”

He stays like that, embracing you as you quake in your despair. You keep your face buried against his shirt as his thick muscles fill you with a sense of security. His other hand rests on your hip but does not wander.

Heaviness drapes over you and your body slowly slackens. The wine dulls your nerves and swirls in your head. You feel yourself spiraling and quickly fade into the void.

❤️‍🩹

Your brow twitches and your nose itches. You nearly smack yourself as you throw your hand up and groan. The effort makes you wince.

Ugh, hungover. It's been a while.

You bend your leg and the blanket falls away to uncover your naked thigh. You frown and peek down as you lift the blanket. No clothes. You blanch and lay back, trying to summon the memories of the previous night.

The buzzing of the shower draws your attention away from your internal search. Along with the thrum is the deep baritone singing a song you've never heard. You blink, long and hard, and push yourself up.

Your heart feels as if it's stopped beating. Your breath catches and you look around the room. There's clothing hung over the chair in the corner. Men's clothes.

Oh god.

You wouldn't…

As the melody carries, slightly offkey, you recognise the singer. Thor. Oh. Oh no.

You curl your fingers against the mattress, barely able to hold yourself up. You remember the bath and then him waiting and him on top of you but everything else is gone. How can you not remember? 

A pit plunges down to your stomach. No, you're not like that. You've held out all these years…

Well, how many chances did you really get?

The shower cranks off and you gulp, hugging the blanket against your chest as you sidle around to the edge of the bed. You can hear him moving around, humming. You don't know what to do.

As the door opens, you try to think of what to say. Hi, good morning, what the heck happened last night?

You're speechless as he emerges butt naked. Brazen as he has himself on full display. Full display.

You snap your mouth shut as he uses a towel to dry his hair and winks as he drops it down to wrap his waist. 

“Morning, kitten,” he growls, “you seem chipper.”

You try to talk but can only cough. You reach to touch your throat and rub the lump free, “Thor, what… last night…” your voice cracks with each syllable.

“Ha, you think we…” he lets the suggestion dangle and scoffs.

You nod. Of course, he's all bluster. He wouldn't actually want you.

“When it happens, you will remember it,” he taunts, “I like to build up to sleep fucking.”

Your jaw falls open, “Thor…”

“Besides, if anything had happened, you would remember it.”

“I…” you flutter your lashes, “I should–”

“Well here you are,” he knots the towel around his waist, “lucid…”

“...get dressed,” you complete your previous threat.

You stand but he blocks you easily. He catches your shoulders and urges you back. Your legs hit the mattress and you sit, unable to fight his strength.

“Now?” You squeak.

He rumbles with laughter as his hands trail down your arms, “just a taste. To pep me up for the day.”

“Uhhh,” your voice rolls out senselessly as his hand crawls over the blanket and he tugs it. You cling to it desperately. 

He snarls and yanks up the bottom, tossing it over his head as he seizes your thighs beneath. You yelp as he bows and pulls your legs apart. You lose hold of the blanket and it rumples at your waist as you catch yourself on the heels of your hands.

You wriggle and try to resist him as his head pokes up beneath the blankets. He has you leaning back on your arms as he pulls your legs over his shoulders. You lift a hand and slap his head as you realise what he's about to do.

Too late.

Your hand falls against his head as his hot breath tingles along your thighs. His cool tongue slips between your folds and you gasp, electricity coursing through you. Oh!

You let out a pathetic noise as you push futilely on his head, still writhing as he nuzzles further into you. His large tongue spreads wide and he flicks it up over your clit. You spasm and yipe in surprise at another zing.

“Thor,” you breathe.

He pulls back for just an instant, “louder, kitten, can't hear you under here.”

He dives back in and the bed bounces as you jolt. You try to smack him again but only urge him. You gasp and quiver helplessly, toes curling and legs tingling. What do you do?

Oh god, what can you do? This is better than any toy you got hidden in your nightstand. This is an actual man. It's real and it feels so good.

He wraps his arms around your legs and rips you down onto your back as he lifts your pelvis higher. He hums into you and it ripples up to your chest. You hiss and slap the bed as lay defeated.

“Ohhhhh,” you drone out as you succumb to the delightful swirls.

He growls and your breath hitches. He turns his head, just for a moment, and nips your thigh, “louder…”

You mewl and utter his name. It's as much a plea for him to keep going as it is for him to stop. He laps at you again and you cry out. That seems to fuel his fervour as he suckles at you eagerly. 

Your voice rises without your permission. Your whines burst from you as you claw at the blanket and squirm. You can't hold back. It's more than just that moment, it's years of waiting, of wanting.

You don't care that it's not who you wanted. You don't care if anyone else hears. You can't think straight enough for any of that as you call out Thor’s name, bucking your hips desperately into an orgasm.

[urdepressedslut]

Love Me to Death (masterlist) ♡

✧ Pairing — Avengers!Bucky Barnes x Siren!Fem!Reader

✧ Series Summary — The avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course.

✧ Series Warnings — light angst, hints to past trauma, mentions of bucky’s trauma, hints to PTSD, hints of anxiety

(SERIES ONGOING)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | SERIES 18+

* You are responsible for your media consumption. Please do not proceed reading, if you have any kind of problem with any of the above written warnings.

✧ Chapter One

↳ The avengers compound receives a new recruit. She’s a siren who can make anyone fall deathly in love with her with one word. Bucky immediately takes interest in her as he discovers she’s mute, for good reason of course.

✧ Chapter Two

↳ coming soon.

✧ Chapter Three

↳ coming soon.

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 3

Infinitely More | Loki x Reader

Loki makes his first contact with you, much to the Avengers disappointment, there's a natural connection between you both. Maybe Loki can help answer some of your questions.

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Avengers being rude, Loki being himself, thigh riding/masturbating.

Credits: divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Loki used his magic to hide among the shadows and return to the guest room unseen.

Lying on the large bed in the guest suite that the Avengers had provided for him, Loki whiled away a few hours contemplating the cocktail of magic that had shimmered around the mysterious woman in the hospital room, dipping into his own knowledge and scratching down some ideas for further reading, if he could be permitted access to some of Asgard’s now limited libraries. He allowed the image of you arching from the bed to permeate into his subconscious. In response his body felt taut, ready, and he imagined how you’d feel arching into his touch like that. 

A sharp, familiar, knock broke him from his thoughts, followed by a boisterous voice. 

“Brother? They want you there when they try to speak to her again,” Thor thundered through the door, his enthusiasm at having his brother with him overwhelming. Loki had agreed only because he was so bored and Thor had seemed to keen to show of Midgard as Loki’s own personal tour guide. 

Loki rolled his eyes, the pen and notepad he’d been using to jot down ideas, vanished back into the air, and he prepared to follow Thor back through the compound and into the secret room next to yours. 

After surveying the array of heroes in front of him, he settled against the back wall, trying to look dispassionate as you examined a strand of your hair in the two way mirror, watching as it got changed beneath your fingers. You behaved as if there was no one else watching, with an air of resigned melancholy mingled with curiosity. 

“I’ll go and talk to her,” Tony said, “see if she’ll tell us anything we, or you,” he pointed at Loki “can use.”

A soft whooshing sound accompanied Tony’s exit from the room as the sealed door slid open and then closed behind him.

As soon as the door had closed, you backed away from the mirror, your hands out behind you to feel your way towards the hospital bed. Bruce fiddled with a few dials in front of him, turning the comms down so only those at the front of the room could hear, deliberately tuning Loki out. The god could’ve heard if he wanted to, but he preferred to look down at his nails dispassionately. 

It didn’t look good even from where Loki was standing, nor did he require audio to know that you were furious. In fact, you looked both frightened and angry, as you pointed at the door while Tony stood stoic and shaking his head. After a few more minutes of silent arguing Tony appeared through the sealed door again, frustrated and defeated. 

“I can still feel it, she’s controlling the air in there, it was so unbearably hot. Bruce what happened?” He groused, bumping his friend out of the way with his hip so they could look at the control panel together. 

Bruce confirmed all the controls and vitals were normal inside of the room, but Tony’s heart rate had been elevated the entire time, his dopamine and oxytocin skyrocketing and then crashing, full of adrenaline.

“I’ll try next,” Steve offered, but Loki cut him off, raising his hand to silence the soldier’s presumably brave attempt at protecting his friends. 

“I don’t think so. Let me,” Loki insisted, ignoring the indignant look of the Captain’s face. 

“That’s not a good idea, whatever her magic is, it’s is very powerful.” 

“I would be insulted, Captain, if I believed you put any thought into your argument apart from your own desire to be alone with her. It radiates off you and makes you vulnerable. Let me.” Loki placed a hand on his chest, smiling serenely in the face of Steve’s increasingly flustered demeanour. 

Steve flushed. “That’s not…” 

Loki held his hand up again and silence fell over the room. 

“I believe I know what your problem is, why she’s making you have these dreams.” Loki straightened his collar and rolled the sleeves on his shirt, “spent her whole life in that flat and now she’s here with you. Apparently you’re superior human specimens,” he shrugged his shoulders, a hand on the door, “she’s aroused, and as soon as that arousal spilled out into her magic you locked her away. But, you’re in luck, because I can help,” Loki gave a cheeky grin and turned away from the blushing Captain. 

Loki pushed the door open and locked it behind him in a smooth movement. In the split second before the lock clicked into place there was a squeak of rubber soles on the vinyl floor as the entire time rush to stop him - and then silence descended. 

“Hello, little one,” Loki cooed, side stepping the breakfast tray that you unceremoniously hurled at him as he entered, the cereal and coffee splashed on the pristine wall behind. He simply tapped his foot and the milk that had been soaking into his trousers vanished, along with the once dripping food on the wall. 

“Fuck off. I’m not talking to any more of you, especially not if you’re going to patronise me,” you turned away, bare legs dangling from the medical bed.

“No, of course not. My apologies.” Loki lifted his hand, green magic moving over the floor and picking up the breakfast tray, a cloud of gold and green carried it carefully back to you before landing softly on the bed. The once plain breakfast had been replaced by a carafe of coffee and an array of artfully arranged fruit and pastries. 

You looked down at the tray and smiled, the first smile you’d allowed yourself in a long while, and Loki took the opportunity to move closer. The god positioned himself on your other side and took the largest strawberry from the plate before inspecting it closely, keeping his eye on you in his peripheral vision. 

You eyed him too. You knew who he was, you’d been the news and read the articles about the Avengers and their fight with the norse god of mischief, Loki. Yet here he was, dressed in simple black slacks and a white shirt, inspecting a strawberry that he’d made with his own magic. In profile he was just as handsome as the media photos you’d seen. His cheekbones were sharp and angular, his eyes clear and piercing, yet there was a softness to his cheeks and lips, especially when he smiled a little, rolling the red fruit between his thumb and forefinger, pressing until juice pooled on the surface of the soft flesh. 

Then he spoke, and his voice wasn’t cutting and violent like the videos of New York, no, it still held a deep timbre, but there was no panicked undertone or manic speed to his words. 

“I know you’re not to be played with, not like those fools.” He whispered, carefully, almost gently, keeping his volume low so you had to lean in. “I should call you little fae?” He took a bite of the strawberry and turned to look at your perplexed expression, “little nymph?” The sugary juice coated his lips and you leaned closer, watching his lips turn pinker, “no, no, I saw your power this morning, and you’re still doing it now, though I wager you don’t know it. How about Little Goddess?” And he popped the last bite of the strawberry into your open mouth tilting his head, amused, at your surprised eyes. 

Loki watched the silver flecks in your iris spark and fizzle, the subtle change of your hair colour as you breathed out.

“And who are you to label me?” You kept eye contact with him, eating the fruit slowly while he observed you. It took every ounce of Loki’s control not to grin at the haughty tilt of your chin or

“My name is Loki,” for once he decided to forgo his full title, he assumed you must know it anyway and, besides, he had a game to play with the Avengers. Making you feel small was not part of that game. “I am not-” He looked at the mirror, choosing his words carefully,“they treat me like this too. With fear. But they should be treating you with admiration.” He touched your check with the tips of his fingers, “worshipping you.” 

You lent into the touch, your skin alight, lips parting slightly. But he pulled away casually, leaving you leaning into nothing and struggling to catch yourself before falling. 

“Well, I don’t think so, Loki, I irritate them now. I just told the truth, they like each other. I just wanted to help,” you looked at your lap, twisting your fingers together and digging your nails into your palms. “I just wanted some friends, and it’s their fault anyway, they brought me here, I didn’t ask to come.”

With a warm hand, Loki tilted your chin up and raised each finger away from your palm until they lay flat in his, “don’t hurt yourself, Little Goddess.”

At his touch you could feel the spark of energy that had everyone on edge, the light outside glowed and your eyes flashed as you stared back, holding him in your gaze. 

“Can you see what power you wield?” Loki ran his hand down your cheek, “they want to subdue you again.” Your eyes glazed, the silver now prominent. “Do not take their concoctions.” Loki turned subtly towards the countertop that lined one wall of the medical room, it currently held a kidney dish with a vial of sedative and prepackaged needles. 

“I don’t want to take those tablets again, I just want to be able to control this. I want to be free, they said it’ll help me.”

“They’re drugging you, if you want help, I can help you, will you let me help you, Little ásynja?” You nodded, eager for anything that would let you out of this boring room and out into the world you longed to explore. “Tell me what you want?”

Over your shoulder Loki watched as the door handle began to jiggle, squeaking in the lock from the ferocity of the attack on the other side.

“I don’t want to wear this stupid hospital gown any more.” You plucked at the hem, “it’s humiliating, I feel like a - a - patient or something.”

Loki grinned, a smile of deep satisfaction that he allowed to spread over his face. That wasn’t what he was expecting, not with the way your body had lit under his touch, your heartbeat hammering and the delicate scent of you shifting into something deeper and muskier. But it was something he could take care of while you warred with whatever feeling you were trying to tamp down that had you squirming in your seat and squeezing your thighs together. 

“Of course, I can use my magic to change it for you? What would you like?” With his hands under your elbows, Loki encouraged you to stand up in front of him. A shimmer of magic and you were taller, heels tipping you forwards onto your tiptoes, emerald silk clung to you, a short corset tight at your waist, glinting with gold, your hair piled on top of your head under a crown and intricate gold and emerald jewellery circling your wrists. 

You reached up, your fingers dancing over the crown, smiling and let out a laugh of shock. You hadn’t even felt anything, one minute you were in that awful hospital gown and now you were dressed like a queen. 

The banging on the door grew louder and your eyes flicked over to where the metal vibrated on its hinges, but Loki put his hand on your cheek, turning your attention back to his piercing gaze.

“Don’t look at the door, just look at me.” He gently touched a hand to your temple, a rude act, perhaps, normally he would ask before trying to pry into anyone’s memories. But with the sparse information that the others had been able to glean he really didn’t expect to find anything at all. 

Your mind opened and Loki was overwhelmed, oh this was better than he could have dreamed. You were there behind the wall, the real you, not this cowed mortal, but something infinitely more that faded into the back of your memories like the darkening night. He couldn’t see it all and he didn’t want to risk hurting you by freeing it all at once. Your eyes glazed and then squinted, as if staving off a headache and Loki pulled himself away from your memory. 

“Maybe a bit too elegant for the medical bay,” his magic shimmered again as Loki tried to regain his composure. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d been expecting to see behind the steel wall of your mind, but it certainly wasn’t that, and he hadn’t expected flashed of his own memories to come flooding back to him either, no images yet, but the feel of a soft hand in his, moss and crowns of flowers, Asgardian summers that had once felt endless. 

Loki was decidedly distracted, images of you arching on your bed, miles away, aeons ago, filled his mind. Your desires, your lust was overwhelming, just the scent of you, so close to him, was making his fingers itch to touch you and he stepped closer, hands circling the corset at your waist, eager to feel the heat of your body flush against his own. 

You gasped, looking down at the once elegant dress, now gone, but the corset, heels and crown remained. Silky shorts sitting high on your thighs, lace dancing across your skin and goosebumps rising where Loki’s cool hands met your bare skin. 

“My sincere apologies, darling.” He stepped back abruptly and you looked directly at him at the pet name, hand still on the crown, “too soon,” he smiled, but you didn’t cover yourself. Somewhere deep inside this felt entirely right and natural, even the crown was a welcome weight, and Loki’s gaze was familiar too. Then he flicked his hand and his magic wrapped around you, replacing your scant lingerie. 

You knew these clothes, though they weren’t nearly as regal or provocative as Loki’s outfits. They had been lost during your supposed rescue from London to the compound, when all the problems had started and life had become scary and upside down. Soft, worn, light blue jeans, a white shirt and your trainers, he had pulled them from your memories, all except the bracelet that circled your wrist.

“Oh - this didn’t change,” you inspected it, watching the tiny emeralds glinting in the morning sun.

“You can keep the bracelet, consider it a gift. From one God to another,” Loki closed the bracelet under his hand, holding your wrist gently.

From one god to another, it vibrated through you, this is truly how he saw the confusion of your powers? Some sort of admission that you were a celestial, godly being? 

You swallowed down the sick, nervous feeling building inside of you and touched the bracelet again instead.

“I don’t have a gift for you,” you whispered.

“I will allow this indiscretion,” Loki smiled, “I am sure there will be an opportunity in the future.”

His smile was filled with suggestion and you longed for him to act upon it.

Behind you the door continued to rattle, Loki’s magic keeping the lock in place even as your captors tried to open it, though he could hear nothing from the outside. He flicked a hand and out of the corner of his eye he saw the camera and microphone melt into a puddle of black plastic and wiring.

“Tell me, darling, do you feel unwell. You are warm, I can hear your heartbeat.” Loki moved closer again, pulling you in with a strong but gentle hand on your wrist, his fingers touching the intricate bracelet he’d created for you. 

“You can hear that?” You asked, quietly, and somehow as you blinked your eyelashes felt longer and thicker, becoming a flirtatious flutter. 

“I believe you may require some assistance.” Loki’s lips hovered above your own, the light outside as blinding as his gaze, “you’re aware they can see you through that mirror?”

You started and looked round, skin as hot as coals and heart beating like a drum at the thought of all they’d seen you do in this room. Loki could remember too, your fingers dipping below the waistband of your underwear, the little moans you’d allowed yourself, and he felt his trousers become tight for the second time in your presence. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult not to act upon the burning lust that had been kindled inside. Tony was right, as soon as he’d walked into the room he’d felt hot and bothered, needing to touch and tease to release some of the tension. 

“Do not worry, my darling,” he waved and plush curtains fell across the mirror in heavy ripples of moss green velvet and gold brocade, the luxurious fabric so at odds with the clinical room you’d been left in. 

The door handle stopped moving and Loki turned his attention back to you. The rise and fall of your chest as you panted, confused, as if all of the air had left the room. The way you tipped your head forwards to try and regain some composure. 

The handle started to move again and a dull thump reverberated through the room. You turned to him, suddenly aware that he was a stranger in your rooms, eyes wild before you fluttered them closed. Loki pulled you forwards, the rhythm of the thuds against the door speeding up his own heart beat. His lips met yours, one hand around your waist pulling you closer, the other encouraging your legs up onto the bed until you were situated in his lap, clinging to the feeling of his body around yours, his lips slanted against your mouth and his hands cradling you. 

Moaning, your fingertips glowed, light sparking in the room, silver and navy. But your eyes stayed closed, ignorant of the light show you were putting on for the God. 

“That’s it Little ásynja, let me take care of you. They have been neglecting you, have they not?” Loki cooed, soft and low and soothing, you nodded against his chest, something deep inside calling to the God as he peppered you with kisses.

“And at home, you had a consort, to satisfy you?” He didn’t really care if he was stepping on anyone’s toes, but it was good to plan ahead for these things.

You shook your head, “no I, well….” 

Loki let his fingers ghost over your forehead, he could see you in that far away bed, a little Midgardian toy in your hand as moans filled your thoughts, electricity and light. Loki’s grin was wolfish. Not quite the innocent little shut away they all thought. 

Your hips seemed to be moving entirely independently of your own thoughts, dragged into the deep sense memories that Loki had stirred, a muscle memory of pleasure and satisfaction that your body was chasing. Your hands slid into Loki’s hair while you ground down against the bulge in his own trousers, eager for more. 

“That’s okay darling, I understand. I could visit you, if you liked. We could talk, I can…help you. With your magic of course.” Loki continued to place featherlight kisses across your nose, cheeks, forehead, now beaded with sweat. The calmness in his voice made your harsh panting sound even louder in your head. Loki’s hands lay gently on your hips, helping you to move and grind against him. “That’s right, darling, you take what you need from me, I’ll take care of you.” He promised, as you came with a cry, your arousal soaking into the leg of his trousers. 

Immediately you were filled with shame and embarrassment, attempting to squirm from his lap, but he held you down firmly, the length of him still pressed between your legs, and in your post orgasmic sensitive state you could feel him pulsing against you. 

Loki looked into your eyes, impossibly black now with a silver ring separating your pupil from the colour, not black, no, rich, dark blue, like the night sky circled by stars. His heart beat wildly, he needed more of you, he felt insatiable, obsessed. Were you doing this? Were you making him feel this way? Like he couldn’t breathe. Or because this feeling was genuine? What memory was it that itched at the back of his mind that he couldn’t realise? 

He fought the urge to lift his hips and chase his own release with you, taking a deep breath and promising himself a hasty retreat to his own rooms, he managed to calm himself. 

"I promise I’ll come back, but I think they would like me to leave now.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands, holding you back from kissing him again but you shook your head keeping him close. 

A shrill clang of metal on metal reverberated through the room, setting Loki’s teeth on edge. The door was at least partially broken, he assumed, the hinges now hanging from the frame. Fool, Loki berated himself, he had allowed his magic to slip and as sure as he could hear shouting and voices outside of the room, they must have been able to hear you cry out. 

You leant into his embrace and pressed a kiss to his lips, sweet and slow as the door fell into the room, framing Steve on the other side, panting and frustrated, his cheeks flushed.

“Alright let’s go!” He pointed at Loki.

“So I can see you again?” You asked with a small voice, fingers clinging to his shirt, lips against his neck.

“Yes, darling, I’ll see you tomorrow, but if you need me, I am a god,” he leaned into your ear, “you can always pray to me.” Loki placed a kiss on your forehead and felt a frizzle of something escape again while Steve, and now Sam too, stood in the door frame shuffling, uncomfortable.

Such power, he chuckled to himself, such power and yet they are frightened of their prisoner.

It was definitely worth having to listen to the mortals complaining to irritate them this much and he had got their not so stoic prisoner to talk a little, even open up to him, he had brought you release when they could barely bring you comfort and he felt settled in the knowledge that they had no idea what they were playing with. 

Loki was lost in his own mind imagining the wall in yours, the memories entombed there. He had heard your voice, delicate and nervous, talking to him a few times. Telling him about your loneliness, your confusion and fear. And around an hour ago he swore he heard you gasp his name. The close proximity allowed him to hear you pray, but he could also feel the connection he had opened. A version of you searching to get out, running through corridors filled with vast vaulted ceilings and pillars that seemed to cascade form the ceiling, holding them up almost effortlessly. Endless halls of gold and miles of forest. 

This time it was Steve who rudely interrupted his studious daydreaming. 

“She’ll only talk to him,” he pointed at Loki who plastered on a caricature of shocked innocence.

“Are you sure?” He was sure, but he had such an urge to hear it from someone else.

“Of course I’m sure, she point blank refused to talk to me, Bruce, Tony, anyone. She asked for you and you alone.” 

“I’m flattered,” Loki stood and gave a smug smile before bowing at the waist.

“She wants you now, if you’ll go.” Tony suggested, refusing to meet Loki’s eye and instead toying with the clear phone in his hands. 

Loki faced the assembled superheroes before him, “how does it feel, heroes, to be the bad guy?” He waved his fingers at himself dramatically. 

“We’re not the bad guys,” Natasha insisted.

“No? Does the scared girl want to talk to you?” He slid his hand out in front of him, pointing at the shocked faces, “or me?” He waved his hand down his body and changed his clothes from his Asgardian leathers to a casual pair of black jeans and a matching t-shirt,. “Bad guys,” he pointed at them, faking a grumpy face and then smirking as he walked off to the medical wing.

&lt;<Part 2 Part 4 >>