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chantsdemarins · 3 months

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New Fic: Breath of the Æsir ⚔︎🏰 (Loki X Reader)

Formally (Collapsing in the Arms of Chaos) I changed the name. 😬 I know Medieval stories aren't everyone's fav but heck, I hope you like it! It has been brewing in the coffee pot that is in my head for over a year. I feel slightly self-conscious that after my first time with COVID, my brain is not the same. I hope I still have my ability to write! My last story published a few weeks ago was written while I was falling ill and I know it wasn't my best!

Thank you for reading!! If you want to comment I would be so happy and reblogs are like the most precious thing to me. All art is mine, it's a Photoshop-crazed situation.

Summary: Disenchanted with the Danes' misuse of Norse gods to sanction their brutality, Loki finds himself ostracized. Stripped of his divine powers and bearing a severe injury, he wanders into the realm of the conquered. By a twist of fate, he arrives at your manor, where you await your husband's return. However, destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Blood.

Words: 2,471

Smut rating: Not yet...but there sure will be!

Posting schedule: Every Saturday! I am going to stick to this!

Chapter 1 The Embroidery of Destiny Chapter 2 The Stranger Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

@lokis-little-fawn @lcolumbia1988 @thesoftboiledegg @anukulee @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @nildespirandum @caffiend-queen @mochie85 @maple-seed @mischief2sarawr @kikster606 @thedistractedagglomeration @glitchquake@simplyholl @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @muddyorbs @vickie5446 @trickster-maiden @grymrayven

Before your family settled again, you had been travelers, moving from one darkened patch of earth to the next. Soil on your boots muddied your paths, creating difficulties in finding a home. There were many things to see, some horrors, some things magical and unfounded. Shapes shifted in the forest where you camped at night. One day your father showed you where they lowered men into the bogs, decorated with bronze. These were not the ways of your people. They did not worship like that. It might have been too much for you to know where some ended up when they were no longer living, not in graves or on pyres. Something else.

By the time you reached the northern lands, your family had negotiated your belongings down to just what the pallid horses could carry. Your croft was built into the very earth you had struggled to cross, with bedrooms burrowed into the side of a hill. It was not built for so much rain. Buckets and sluices were not enough to keep out the floods.

So, when your husband came to marry you, you packed your things neatly, placed them in a pack, and left your parents’ home without drawing a breath. You walked a distance far greater than any you had as a child to his family's land, your new home. The way your family had negotiated the marriage remained a blind spot in your mind. You couldn't fathom it. From a croft to a manor.

Over time, nothing in your marriage seemed to flourish. The land, though beautiful, yielded nothing you sowed. Too sandy or too chelated, perhaps unfortunate timing. You became a wife in the loneliest ways. No spinning of yarn would produce a cloth finer than the wool you began with. Hours of practice composing embroidery resulted in nothing more than half completed sea escarpments, knots, and birds with no flight.

The elegant window that surveyed the tenants' labors only deepened your isolation. They carried on with their duties, and you retired to your quarters, curtains drawn. The chill from your childhood followed you here. The stone walls held a dampness no fire could dispel. You knew somewhere across the hills where your parents still sleeping too close to the earth. Rooms still flooded. Though your loyalty never wavered, even as your husband wandered afar, absent for days at a time, his pursuits as obscure as the horizon beyond your room filled with half-finished tasks.

In kindness or disappointment, he had ensured your education extended beyond your lowly beginnings. Through travels and courtly audiences, barons and other titled men and women recounted their lives' poetry over each glass of mead or wine. You listened for moments when they forgot their lines, most days this was more interesting than their images they wanted you to see.

Although had you not met Isolde of Easting, you would not have thought to plant the spiky yellow gorse along the manor's borders. When the proper conversation waned, you had discovered the titled people still spun tales of their lands. The places they had come or been uprooted from. In the best conversations, you gleaned knowledge of the plants, herbs, and tokens from the first peoples, their ways overshadowed by the new cultures but nonetheless seeming to flow from them to you during the quieter moments—the men away hunting, the embroidery thread running low, the teapot empty. These things were spoken of in hushed tones so the servants would not get ideas.

You spoke of the hawthorn tree, the ravens' work, the swords warriors cast into the cold estuary, found along all the lakes' shores. The Roman merchants who brought tales of Jesus and his cross. The god Woden came from the Angles, and Odin, from the North. Their wars and bloodshed filled the spaces between village homes and now the courts. If asked if you prayed to the Christian god, you couldn't say. You longed to speak of the place where they lowered men into the bogs, the place your father once showed you. Later, in the quiet of your room, you would pull out a relic from beneath the blankets in your chest, and it would look unrecognizable. It once held meaning, but that meaning didn't travel with it.

Sometimes when you were awake much too early, the nightingales still singing, you would dip your quill into the small pot of black soot. You would unroll a small piece of parchment, discarded by the cooks, and write down your dreams. Which had room in your sleep since they were so often unimpeded by the presence of your husband. You wrote in the lais of the Frankish people, counting eight sounds to the line, braiding your dreams with your words.

Had I found a small shell, not rope I would have held it to my ear The ocean's song would have come to me Instead, I was swallowed wholly

This was how things proceeded until the day they did not.

As you came to learn, in the void and closeness of life, nothing is reliable enough to expect its continuation the next day. You should allow for change to slip through the crevices of even the dampest chambers. It just had not happened in so long you almost did not recognize it when something remarkable unfolded at your manor.

On this day, as you sipped your tea, with half-finished yards of cloth draped across your lap, and the unopened book of hours on the small, worn table, your gaze was fixed on the wind billowing the emerald curtains—silk from an era long past, traded by hands unknown. Like much of the decor in the manor, these were vestiges of your husband's family's trade in finery, symbols of their stature akin to that of minor kings.

Elinor, your companion for the last 10 years, rapped on your door abruptly, breaking your contemplative gaze.

“My lady, please excuse me,” she croaked, as the door opened before you could arrange a pretext to delay her entry.

“What is it, Elinor?” you asked, not wishing to dwell on the trivialities of the manor that day. Clearing her throat, she reported urgently of a man in a bad way, injured and lying on the steps. She hastened to your window, the portal to the land beyond your manor, and pointed to the makeshift courtyard where a man lay seemingly lifeless if not for the faint moan you heard.

“Why have you not sought my husband or some other man of decisions?” you questioned with a twinge of fear edging into your refuge of solitude.

“Lady, your husband has traveled beyond into the land of the Scots, and the aldermen are not present either,” she informed you.

“A household of women only, then? How did I overlook such an event?” you pondered.

“Lady, you are often engrossed in your own pursuits within these walls. How could you have noticed your husband's departure?” Elinor reasoned, her words not easing the panic now fully upon you. The thought that your husband had left you unprotected added another layer of anguish.

“At such a time, Elinor, how shall we defend ourselves?” you barely articulated.

“I suspect he gave little thought to the matter,” Elinor replied, her head bowed even lower than her subdued voice.

“Then it falls to me to act in their absence,” you reasoned. Not wanting this conflict or the talk that may ensue you knew you must act quickly. This man perhaps knew your husband, or perhaps it was only a small political scuffle that may have resulted in his injuries. You thought of the many reasons he could have ended up at the steps of your manor of this day. None of them added up entirely.

As you navigated the long, narrow corridors, your thin morning jacket provided little relief from the chill as Elinor aided you with the heavy door. You both stood in awe of the man at your feet. Having seen men before, chiefly your husband. This man’s appearance was now shocking at close view. He was unlike your husband in all ways you could imagine.

“Holy Jesus save us,” Elinor yelled through her missing teeth.

“He will not assist with this, Elinor,” you responded, your eyes surveying the severe wound from his stomach to his chest, the dark blood pooling around his lean form.

The man’s hair was a shade darker than the darkest night. Had night possessed more depth, it would resemble the hue of his locks. His attire suggested nobility, which only intensified the chill you felt. He had clearly been bested in whatever skirmish he had come from, and with no healer at hand, it seemed likely that a burial might soon follow—until his eyes fluttered open.

A striking blue that drew your own darker gaze, hinting at his foreign language or origins. His hand reached out feebly before falling back to his side.

He whispered faintly, “Ásjá.”

“He's alive!” you declared, as if the statement itself could reverse his fate.

“Yes, lady, he lives, I told you. Now what shall we do?” Elinor asked, concern evident in her voice.

“We save him. It is the right thing to do,” you answered.

“But without a healer, we risk much by sheltering him,” Elinor’s voice trembled.

“Then we shall tend to his needs ourselves,” you declared, your courage unusual, unfounded, drawn from the same well that had seen men saved from death at a distance. An instinct came over you. You directed Elinor to gather wood, cloth, herbs, and other necessities that seemed more from your imagination than any practical experience. You quickly cut away his clothes, exposing the dire wound more fully.

“Lady, he may not survive this,” Elinor observed with a somber tone. The unhinged flesh flapping against the seemingly unended torrent of blood emerging from him. How could there be so much blood.

“Silence, Elinor,” you hushed her. Your hands, though failed in the art of tapestry, were adept with needle and thread. So much failure had given you courage.

“We must stem the bleeding before we can stitch him up,” you instructed, asking for a branch from the fire.

“Lady, you cannot—” Elinor began, but you had already pressed the smoldering wood to the wound. The man awoke suddenly, thrashing in pain.

“Hold him down!” you ordered. Elinor, small but determined, restrained his arms.

You envisioned repairing his injury as if it were the "Galley of the Titan’s Moons," a rare piece of embroidery from the northern lands.

“I shall map the night sky upon your body, sir,” you said, speaking into the silence as he drifted further from this world. You sensed the ancestors gather, ready to welcome him, but you were not ready to let him go.

“No, not yet” you whispered, a soft rebuke to the invisible presence.

Elinor looked at you, puzzled. To whom were you speaking?

You were determined. This man would not die. Though you had sent for a proper healer, your task was to keep him alive until they arrived, hoping they would be sober enough to be of use. Much worse would be a drunk priest should your help not find any healer available.

It was not until you had finished suturing his wound that you noticed how his body appeared in the dim light of the great room. Your loneliness resonated with the landscape of his injury. It was a peculiar reaction, but there was something else broken within this man, beyond the sword wound. It was something familiar to your own. You held you own stomach for a moment, it felt as if you were the one almost slain, not him.

Eventually, his bleeding ceased, and the healer arrived, tended to him with poultices and what looked like grain spirits. You wrapped your furs around his sleeping form. He did not pass away. The stranger in your home survived. You had been told he might still not make the night. You watched him for as long as your eyes could. His faint inhalations mirrored in your own. But the exhaustion took over, and before you could retreat to your own chamber, you found yourself lying at his side.

“How improper, Lady!” Elinor’s voice pierced the quiet as dawn crept in and your eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep beside the stranger. Startled, you rose, wrapping a blanket around yourself. Quickly finding a reason that you had slept at his side.

“He remains unconscious, Elinor. The healer was unsure if he would wake,” you confided in the servant who had been by your side for so many years. She looked briefly placated. Yet you knew her mind was racing. The healer would tell the burgh folk of this strange man. Your husband was nowhere to be known. Northman had recently been subdued with heavy piles of church silver, and that arrangement was delicate at best. They would be back and this time they would perhaps sack the village since you knew the last of the silver had been promised away to visiting bishops and clergy. The wealth had run its course.

“He must stay until he awakens, until he can speak for himself,” you quickly decided.

It was better to know who he was. He would surely tell you since you saved his life.

“But what if he is a demon, my lady? Have you considered that he may have come from Hell to bring us further misfortune?” Elinor ventured, instantly regretting her words as her face contorted with shame.

“I apologize. I did not mean to imply you are cursed,” she hastily added.

You felt pity for Elinor, she was not as traveled as you had become. Had not the stories you knew, but you also could not see beyond, you had no way to know if it was safe to keep him with you. If your husband should arrive back, there would be no way to convince him that this man had not abused you in some way, but you did know something of him. There was something you did recognize.

“This man is no curse, no demon,” you affirmed, your gaze fixed on his hair, as dark as the ink with which you wrote.

“How can you be certain?” she queried.

“He spoke in the old tongue, asking for aid. Did you not hear him, Elinor?” you questioned, your voice steady.

The woman stepped back, tossing another log onto the fire, her confusion apparent. “I did not recognize the language, nor do I understand how you did,” she admitted.

The language was familiar to you, it was the tongue of your people from so long ago. From the place of your birth. The place that was destroyed till there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 2 below!

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x reader #mcu #norse mythology #medieval fanfic #AU loki #tom hiddleston

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year

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Holy Orders: Mercy [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A Link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (18) Inner demons come out to play, as Loki ends his mission in Rome with a theatrical flourish. (w/c 3.2k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Sacrilege. Desecration. Language. Hell awaits. Mild angst. All will be well.

Loki’s groans sounded against your wet lips as he pulled away. The green and gold shimmering vestments flowed lavishly around his huge frame, yanking you roughly from the wall. You stumbled as he began to stride down the side of the church, past the rows of stoic wooden pews scratched and worn from a thousand prayers. One of your sandals caught, making you wince as it popped from your foot and skated beyond reach. But now was not the time. His grip was firm around your wrist, pulling you easily up the low steps towards the pinnacle of sanctity. He suddenly spun you, switching positions and pinning you against the front of the smooth, sacrosanct marble altar.

The nave of the church stretched behind him, a narrow passageway of serenity broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. Loki’s fingers roamed over your waist, over the curve of your breasts; the grumbles of desire building in his throat as his darkening eyes flashed. The digits slid up your cheekbones, his immense palms cupping the sides of your face before he was upon you. You found your own fingers winding in his hair, whimpers of need mewling from your lips between messy clashes of tongue. His kiss was savage, a maniacal arousal which made the air around your bodies hot. Like a woman possessed, your hands found their way to his neckline, a brutal rip resounding up to the ornate vaulted ceiling as you tore the beautiful green fabric from his chest. It split to his naval, fingers popping buttons on the descent from the innocent shirt he wore beneath.

“Is this what you want, Agent?” he moaned mockingly, as one of his hands slid over your groin. “To corrupt me. Destroy me. Disgrace me in a church of God?” A gentle stoop of his broad shoulders let him catch beneath the hem of your thin summer dress, the scent of his warmed chest tantalisingly close. “Loki I...can I-” you spluttered, fighting against the desire to let him ravage you the way he always did. His hand grasped at the soft flesh of your thigh, devilish pants catching in his throat as his hard-on pitched the swathes of holy garb hanging against his hips. “Loki stop-” you gasped, pushing his hand away from your jaw. You swept away the fingers sinking into your thigh; Loki’s digits falling to your shoulder as he studied your face – lust melting to confusion. Your firm voice continued to echo around the domed ceiling, vibrations seeming to ring in your ears long after it had evaporated. His hand slid down your bare arm to the wrist, fingertips trailing over every centimetre of skin as though for the last time, until it fell by his side.

“Yes?” he whispered saltily, features hardening. He looked resigned, drawing up to his full height as sunlight illuminated a burst of glow behind his raven hair. “I was wondering if...since we’re here, in Rome, and everything – could we...could you..-” “-Oh, out with it, woman.” he scoffed, folding his arms. A tinge of pink had appeared in his cheeks. You took a deep breath. “Could you maybe not fuck me like...-”

Trailing off awkwardly, you noticed that the pink flush had spread to the tips of his ears. “Yes?!” he hissed venomously, the muscle in his jaw clenching. “Like you hate me.” you blurted, glancing to the side as your fingers brushed the smooth surface of the altar he had owned just ten minutes before. “Just once.”

The god tilted his head, long strands of dark curls catching on the embroidery of his sacred robes. “Hate you?” he snarled. “Whatever gave you that impression?” You raised an eyebrow, biting your tongue as you felt your cheeks heat with frustration. “Ummm, maybe the hundred times you’ve told me that?”

Loki snorted. “Only after you did. And besides, you enjoy it.” He stepped forward, hair falling across his cheekbones tingling against your forehead. “Don’t you, Agent?” he whispered. You shrugged, covering a shiver. “I just think it would be fun to see what it’s like when you’re not so…” “-Hostile?” he finished, the ghost of a penitent smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair and trying not to react to the tip of his nose grazing down your temple. “Salvation, wasn’t it?” he murmured, the scrape of his shoes on the marble floor like sandpaper as he shuffled even closer, hips pressed to yours. There was a tinge of sadness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It was unsettling; as he inhaled against your hair, his words no more than a wisp of air. “What you prayed for. Salvation.” He let out a shuddering sigh, catching himself before he stoically continued. “Deliverance from your torment.” You dared to look up at him, eyes wide. Warmth bounced in the shallows of his cheekbones, hues of gold and burnt sunrise dancing in reflections over perfect skin. The placid features set on his face were marred only by the faint knit of his brows. Contemplation, perhaps; as his grip tightened around the edge of the marble by your side. Trapping you. “Loki, I-…” you started, swallowing quietly as he pressed a finger to your lips. “Let me grant you the absolution you desire, Agent.” he whispered sombrely. “Let me at least do that.”

Before you could speak, his lips fastened gently to the curve of your neck. They caressed downward, every achingly soft kiss making you melt into his touch. Your head fell back as he burrowed against the skin, a low growl of satisfaction rumbling from his bare chest to yours as his hands gently gripped your hips. Light from the stained glass windows illuminated the colours behind your eyelids, speckles of gold and burgundy making love in fragrant waves.

“Like this?” he murmured against your ear. You nodded, a soft mewl of confirmation all you could manage as he lifted you easily atop the altar. His tongue massaged your own in haunting rhythm, strength rising and falling like the tide. The pulse of his stiff cock against your inner thigh was unbearable, his tentative unlacing of the binds holding your neckline together sending swirls of unfamiliar comfort through your veins. You carded your fingers through his hair, pushing back the waxy tendrils settled around his jaw. God, his cheekbones really are perfect; you thought, as you ran a fingertip along one sharp edge. He’s perfect. Loki’s eyes met your own as he studied your face, the solemn gaze threatening to swallow you whole as he ran it slowly from your parted lips back to your unwavering stare.

“Pilgrim…” Loki murmured thoughtfully, toying at the tatters of his holy robes left in your wake. “It seems your journey is at an end.” The thick fabric split like tissue paper beneath his gentle touch, running in a straight rip below his hips. His fingers made quick work of the simple leather belt buckle, metal tinkling lightly as he reached inside and pulled forth his majestic cock. Your breath hitched. It never gets old, you thought; feeling saliva well in your mouth as he stroked back and forth. Loki’s brows slanted, a wordless question tinged with desperation. You thought you saw his free hand tremble, before he clenched it to a fist.

He stepped between your spread legs, pressing the meat of his flawless cock against your wet slit. "Speak Latin to me." you said shyly, pulling at the clerical collar wrapped snug at his neck above the splayed sides of his shirt. Loki laughed softly, the tilt of his head to the ceiling making his jawline flash. He lowered it towards you, teeth pulling at his bottom lip. "In nomine patris...et fili...spiritus sancti..." he enunciated formally, narrowing his eyes. "Amen." you whispered seductively in response as you pressed your centre against his pulsing cock. Loki smirked. “Goddess…” he hummed, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. You gasped with mock-disapproval. “Sacrilege.” you said warily, making Loki’s lip curl in a knowing smile. “Heresy, then…” he growled, a glint in his eye as he dragged the thick column of hot flesh between your soaking folds. There was a heavy silence as Loki’s bare chest flanked by richest forest green fabric rose and fell with every breath. He tilted his chin downward, the flash of his tongue forming words before he thought better of it. Dark lashes fanned against the delicate skin beneath his eyes, a rogue curl of ebony hair falling over that regal brow. “Desecrate me, Padre…” you coyed, looping a foot around to his ass and letting the other join it. Crossing your ankles, you pulled him the final inch flush to your body, “-nicely, of course.” Loki’s placid features twisted in amusement, his dimples flashing in the morning sun through the windows high above. “I thought you’d never ask, mia cara.” he purred. The thick tip of his manhood nudged against your entrance, making you whimper as your slid your hands over his shoulders. The clerical collar flexed against the thick vein straining in his neck. Rigid. Immovable. “Loki...yes...uhh-fuck-L-Loki-” you gasped loudly as he breached your slick entrance.

“-Don’t call me that…” he growled, deep lines in his forehead twitching with the effort of restraint as he inched slowly deeper, the edge of marble dragging against his turgid length. “-the m-mission.” You smiled, eyes still shut as your lips stretched against your teeth in pleasure. “If someone s-somehow walks in on us right now...I think your c-cover is blown...uhhh g-god - regardless” you groaned as he bottomed out. Twin moans bounced eerily around the walls of the empty church as he stilled, ricocheting back to you clinging to the god’s body with your legs wrapped around his hips. Loki nuzzled your ear, his hot breath making you buck against him. “Not necessarily, Agent. You would be surprised.” he smirked against your cheek. He began to move, waves of muscle slapping gently against your open thighs. The thick veins lining his cock tugged against your fluttering walls, every pulse like a current through the last vestige of your resistance. Each roll of his hips was devastating, lilting moans of praise peppering your name in the air. You had never heard him say it like that. Come to think of it, you couldn’t recall him saying it at all.

The flats of your palms spread against the altar, sliding backwards as a golden candlestick clattered to the floor. It bounced several times, falling loudly down the steps as Loki lowered you backwards against his hand. “You are so beautiful.” he murmured reverently against the dying, rolling echo of metal on marble, stooping to lower a kiss on the centre of your clavicle. “So beautiful…” he repeated quietly against a muffle of heated skin. You ran a hand through his curls, cupping the base of his skull as he thrust in melodic motion, making your calves tighten around his waist. You bucked rhythmically against him, the motion of your bodies as smooth and poetic as the chant of his prayers. Somewhere, a bell began to toll. Loki’s grip tightened on the back of your dress, his fingers grasping at the textured cheesecloth scratching against your spine. You drew forwards, strands of hair falling over your forehead as you took in the sight of Loki lost in the pleasure he found in you. You could feel the muscles of his ass clenching beneath the drape of holy fabric hanging sluttishly against his hips, each squeeze of your thighs as he fucked you making you mewl his name. Fucks me? No. you thought desperately, arching your back against his hand. This is what it feels like when he’s making love.

Loki’s hand slid up your back, cupping the nape of your neck as he brought you forward to his open mouth. The kiss was needy, tasting every crevice of your lips and tongue against his own like he was departing for war. “Mark me…” you gasped against his cheek when he broke for air, feeling the beat of his chuckle against your chest. “That would be against the terms of your request, I fear…” he groaned, lingering the head of his furiously hard cock just inside your pussy. “Gods, I can feel how much you want it.” he growled, circling the tip licentiously at the catch of your cunt. Arousal slipped against the pull of his foreskin as he shamelessly devoured your emotions with his mind, wetness coating every inch of straining length. It pulsed, tiny flicks of his hips keeping you desperately on edge. “Although perhaps…” he added mysteriously, a flash of mischief in his eyes. Loki’s wide tip never left you as he leant gracefully to the side, fingers curling around the second ornate candlestick gracing the hallowed altar. He raised an eyebrow, enjoying the look of growing confusion on your face.

He brought it upwards, level to your searching eyes before tilting his head. Automatically, your back arched, pushing your chest forward as he mirrored his movement with a tilt of his hand. The hot, pooled wax spilled against your chest, dripping on the mounds of flesh heaving gently with each shuddering breath. Loki groaned softly, watching the white substance melt leisurely in a trail beyond his sight down the neckline of your dishevelled dress. “Perfect.” he murmured, setting the ornate candlestick back in place. He brought a finger to your skin, gathering the slowly hardening beeswax with intricate care. You looked down, seeing a thick circle had been formed on the curve of your left breast. A smile tugged at Loki’s lips, before his eyelids fluttered shut. You had clenched around the tip of his cock, reminding him.

“Patience, mia cara.” he growled playfully, bringing his hand between you with a flourish. In a low glow of green, something appeared between his fingers. It was thick, and short. It looked heavy, and...old. “W-what is that?” you stammered, breath catching as he thrust another few inches inside your tightened pussy. Loki’s smile widened. “My seal.” he said, flipping the object to face you. The base was a tarnished gold, scuffed with use and history that you couldn’t begin to fathom. On the metal, a double headed snake was carved, intricate endless tips wound around each other.

“Wars have begun, and been ended with this mark, Agent.” he murmured, exhaling hot breath gently on the circle of hardening wax on your breast. He licked his lips, eyes flickering to yours nervously. “And now...” You gasped as the chill of metal pressed against your flesh, the cool edges over spilling their target. Loki rolled it from side to side in practised decorum, capturing your lips with his own. A slow tug let you know the seal had been withdrawn; before you heard the sound of the heavy token fall to the floor with a clang by his feet. Loki’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs, pulling your spread legs flush to his hips as he bottomed out once more. A roar simmered in his throat as his grasp tightened; shallow, messy thrusts tilting into your centre as you squirmed on the side of the altar. You could feel the urgency in every jab of his tongue, your walls fluttering with the first sparks of long-denied orgasm. “Loki, I’m c-coming…” you moaned in his ear, feeling him shudder as your arms tightened around his shoulders. They slid down his biceps, grasping for purchase against the tattered fabric of his disguise as he rocked you over the edge of sanity. Climax shattered you from the inside out, cries of pleasure ringing in your ears as you came around him. The feral ache in your belly which had weighted you for weeks blossomed to a thousand strands of bliss, spreading and growing like wine in water. Loki’s pants grew shallow, careful thrusts becoming erratic delving deeper into the flood of your fresh cum. His chest jolted, a hand flying to the edge of the marble altar by your thigh in crushing precision. You heard a harsh crack, the whites of his knuckles glaring as he spent himself inside your wet, pulsating heat with a primal, endless moan of your name. And then there was silence, only wordless heavy breathing filling the warmed air between your bodies. Mussed hair fell around the god’s cheekbones, his eyes lowered as he wet his lips. He sighed. “I plead mercy, Agent…” he murmured slowly, running the tip of his nose against your temple. You felt a shiver roll down your spine. “I will only ask you one last time. Swallow your pride, and tell me that you love me.” A well of adrenaline flushed your blood, a deep longing to say the words flooding your mind before you came to your senses. “Tell me the truth, Loki” you said, brushing a strand of onyx from his brow. Your fingers grazed beneath his chin, raising his face to yours. “I need to know I can trust you-” He inhaled sharply, withdrawing from your touch with a jolt of his head. “I...I cannot.” he said, his voice clouded beneath knitted brows. “Why?!” you said incredulously, feeling his softening cock slide from your entrance. Sentimentality, forgotten. “I cannot!” he shouted. You bit your lip as the malevolent echo ricochet endlessly. The look in his eyes was pained. The quiver of his lip, the slant of his brows. It was raw, you realised with a drop in your stomach. It was real. “Loki, I don’t think you understand. I just need you to be honest with me without being so…-”

“-So what, Agent? Myself?” You let out a sigh of exasperation. “I was going to say dramatic.” you muttered, as Loki’s magic glimmered up his body. Strips of holy ripped green fabric stitched itself together, the embroidery as perfectly matched as it had been before you ever touched him. “I think I understand perfectly well.” he muttered, smoothing his sex-wild hair behind his ears before impaling you with a piercing glare.

“No matter how many times I try to open myself to you, it is only the shadows of my heart you linger in. It is only in the depths of my darkness you feel truly comfortable – just like all the rest. And when it comes to declaring where you stand, in the shadows you remain.” he growled, stepping towards you. He loomed, his lips hovering tantalisingly close, his scent mingled with heavy incense and spices swirling in the air of the sacrosanct space. Loki’s eyes searched yours, a silent plead wavering behind his hardened features. Your breaths felt heavy, every drag of air suffocating as you tried to speak and failed.

Loki shook his head. “I wanted you to find the light.” he rasped quietly, trailing his knuckles down the bodice of your dress before thinking better of it. They clenched in a fist. “But I see now how this must be. How it has always been for us.” In one swift movement, he ascended the steps, beginning to stride down the narrow aisle towards the entrance. The theatrical vestments billowed around his ankles, as imposing in church finery as he was in Asgardian battle armour. A grating ca-lunk of the metal bar sliding across its hold unaided made your blood run cold. Loki’s outstretched arms blew the ancient wooden doors wide on their hinges, banging menacingly against the stone. What have I done? you thought with a fierce chill; stunned panic rising as your body seemed to turn to lead in the wake of his heavy footsteps.

The wax of his seal suddenly crumbled to dust on your skin, blowing mockingly around your collarbone from the breeze of the open church doors. You felt it stick to your moist lips as Loki disappeared to the bustling piazza beyond the sanctuary's boundaries without a backwards glance. “Mercy.” you gasped under your breath, running your fingers over the sticky cast the wax seal had left over your cleavage. Over my heart. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you felt your gaze drawn inescapably up to the majestic baroque stained glass window, the brightness almost blinding. Your eyelids fluttered shut as the church doors slammed closed with shuddering finality. “Mercy.” you whispered again, deafening silence the only response.

A/N: And here we are - the final set is imminent! Cross your fingers my loves, here we go! Continued in Final Bids (Finale pt1) Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @wheredafandomat @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @cheekyscamp @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @aliciamata

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lokisbiiiitch1993 · 8 months

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Hello! I was hoping to make a request if possible please.

Frigga and reader often knit and embroidered together. One day Frigga asks the reader about a deep green and gold blanket they are knitting and how they have been spending so much more time and care working on it then other projects. They end up shyly admitting to her it's for Loki and that they have feelings for him, but know they are probably not reciprocated. Write the ending as you feel if you decide to do this!

Thank you for taking time to even read this! ❤️

Ohh I love this Idea 💡

A Blanket made with Love for the God of Mischief - Loki

It's been almost a year since Queen Frigga invited you for the first Time for Afternoon Tea and Gossip.

Since then you joined her regularly.

One Day as you were sitting and talking - the Side Table next to Frigga caught your Eye or rather the Knitting Work on it .

You were impressed by the Pattern and Technique used

you couldn't help but praise her for this incredible needle work and telling her how envious you are of her skill.

From that moment Frigga teaches you knitting and embroidery.

After some Time you had finished a Collection of Scarves ,Socks and Cardigans.

Loki loves to tease you and asks all the time - Darling,when will you create something for Me? Making you blush.

One time when he got too annoying you jokingly stabbed him with a Needle and he started to act all theatrical -whining - Ouch

You are lucky I used just a Needle and not a Dagger you said sarcastic.

Since then he calls you Stabby Lady .

A few days later you decided to start a new Project a big Blanket in deep green and gold for Loki .

Now it's Frigga who's impressed by your Dedication and Determination.

Curious she started to ask you out -

You spend so much more time and care on this Work

Is it a Present?

For someone special?

No need to be shy , you can tell me ,she said excited

Well...I... yes ..

It's for Loki , you answered shyly

I .. like him.. I like him very much..

I don't know if he feels the same.... I mean I don't believe he does ... I just think he likes to tease me.. a lot.. he always asked me to make him something and now I did ... I am just curious about his reaction

I am sorry.. I shouldn't even talk about him like that with you, you are his Mother and the Queen - you mumbled nervously

Please,calm down , everything's alright, I was asking you out

and about Loki I know he loves playing his games and enjoys the Attention but he is a good Boy .

I just want him to be happy and I am sure you could make him happy ,said Frigga with a Smile

A week later you finished the Blanket and wrapped it up nicely in an exquisite looking Paper .

You went to Loki's Room and knocked on the Door as he opened you pressed the present against his Chest and said - Here for you - I hope you are happy now

He hadn't even time to blink as you ran off - embarrassed

Loki opened the Present - it was a knitted big green and golden Blanket

It's also embroidered - Loki the God of Mischief

Silly Girl ,he said with a smirk

On the next Day Loki went to you as he saw you walking around the Castle Gardens , nervous you tried to run away but Loki is faster and grabbed your Arm - Darling, Stop running away from me . you stopped walking and stood still as he whispered against your Ear - your present kept me warm last night - your cheeks reddened

Thank you , I like it . . . . .and I like you-he said softly

Happily you leaned against his Chest and he hugged you

My Masterlist

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thomasisaslut · 7 months

Text

Loki Laufeyson x F!Reader

Tit-Fucking — KinkTober

Word Count: 1.3k

Includes: Tit-Fucking, Temporary 69 position, Blowjobs, Collars, Rough Sex, Spanking, Aftercare

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50520451

On Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/story/353425531-𝐓𝐢𝐭-𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠-𝐊𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢-𝐋𝐚𝐮𝐟𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧-𝐱-𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

The party in the Avengers tower was lively, flashing lights, magnificent drinks, strong aromas, and of course, your husband. Currently he was eye-fucking you like he has never before.

Of course you knew why.

Your hand was on Tony Stark's pec as he continues to discuss his new plans for renovation on his many Iron-Man suits.

"And that is my design." The brunet smirks, his sentence sounds like something that Will Graham from Hannibal would say—it causes you to chuckle.

"I like the idea, Stark." You flash a smile before sipping on your champagne.

Tony nods in return—in the process his eyes manage to scan up and down your body—Your long, tight, dark emerald dress with golden embroidery shines under the multicolored lights of the party, a matching necklace gifted from your husband hung tightly around your neck, a matching bracelet to match it on your wrist. Overall, the gown highlights your curves and especially your breasts.

"Beautiful outfit, [First Name]." Tony nods at you then lifts his bourbon glass before turning and leaving.

Before you have the chance to follow his actions a large hand meets your hip, gripping it tightly.

"What were you discussing, princess?" Your husband growls.

You instantly turn around, your hands flying to his shoulders before you peck his cheek.

"He was discussing his designs to me, love."

"Oh was he? Then why were you touching him." He groans, his other hand now gripping your hip as well.

"Yes." You cross your arms in a bratty way.

"Don't be bratty." He tugs on the golden necklace before connecting your lips in an aggressive kiss.

"Come on, pet." He moves his free hand to your own before teleporting the two of you to some room in the vast tower.

"Loki?"

Without another word you're pushed to your back on a random bed—you look around and see it's Tony's room.

"We can't be in here!" You argue.

"Shut it." He snaps before ripping your elegant gown into two, throwing the cloth on either side of the bed. He then summons and trails a blade gently up your chest, cutting off your bra before throwing the blade and squeezing your breasts. He groans.

"Do you know what Tony was doing tonight?" His grip tightens. "He was looking at you, at these." Loki kisses your cleavage as he motions to your boobs.

"He was looking at what is mine."

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer when he stops you.

"No." He grunts out. "You will milk me with your tits, princess." Loki demands.

"But that'll hurt!" You whine.

"So?"

By the look in his eye you don't have the balls to refuse, you nod and flip your positions. Now straddling Loki you slowly lean over him—now in a 69 position. He licks up your folds then smacks your ass as encouragement.

You kiss the tip of his erect cock before licking the top, you allow him to enter your mouth when another smack is sent to your rear.

"I said tits." He demanded.

You slowly nod, you cup the underside of your breasts before using them to stroke his cock—unfortunately the position is not the best. You have to use all of your core strength to keep stable as you attempt to thrust his cock between your boobs.

"I can't do it." You pout and sit up on his torso before sliding off.

Loki glares and flips you two once again, quickly your back is on the bed, your legs dangling over the edge of the bed-frame. His dick lies on your cleavage once again.

"Now try, princess."

You groan and grab your tits again, quickly moving them up and down his cock—you feel it twitch in between them as you thrust your breasts.

"Oh fuck, pet." He moans.

You get motivated by his sounds, you do it harder, faster, squeezing them tighter around his cock as you move up and down.

"Please, princess... faster." Loki's hands find your nipples as you stroke him with your tits.

You moan as he toys with your chest, his talented fingers pinch and squeeze your hardened nubs. You quickly move your boobs up and down his cock, much faster then before. You watch as his tip moves in and out of your cleavage.

"Fuck!" He shouts as he begins to use his hips to help, his pelvis hits the bottom of your breasts as he thrusts himself against you.

"Cum for me, Loki." You smirk up at him.

"Oh pet... don't you dare... forget this is your punishment." He groans. "But goddamnit, I love you." Loki then begins to move faster.

"Do it punish me after! Let me taste you!" You beg and move your boobs against his cock faster.

And in a few moments his cock twitches, his load quickly comes shooting out. His cum covers your tits, your jaw, and some of your face. You look up to see Loki panting, his own jaw slack.

Loki straightens his back, sliding off of your hips then moving beside you on Tony's bed. He smirks at the sight of you before connecting his lips to your cum-covered tits. He laps his own release up, drinking it off your boobs.

You moan.

"Flip over, I know you have energy, pet." He smirks.

You nod and quickly flip yourself, your stomach now on the red, satin sheets. You feel his hands massage your rear before a heavy smack connects to it.

You bite the sheets, not daring to make a noise.

"Come on, princess, take it." He demands.

"Loki! Please! I need your cock again." You beg for his dick in between your tits.

"And what about your cunt?" Loki smirks.

"After, after! Please!" You whine.

Your husband chuckles and nods, he moves his hands from your ass to your hips before flipping you over again. He quickly pulls you down so your back is bent on the edge of the bed, your knees landing on the floor.

"Wait, pet." Loki moves his hands to your nipples once again when you make them feel heavy, you glance down and see two bullet-vibrators taped to your tits by magical bands.

"Hope you enjoy them." He smirks before snapping his fingers—the toys instantly turn on and you moan. Your wetness drips onto Tony's carpet beneath you.

Loki then fists your tits before shoving his cock between them again. Using his previous cum as lube he moves faster, you watch his face in awe.

"Would you like another one, princess?" He motions to the toys, his smirk growing.

"W-Where?" You whimper.

"Your clit, pet."

You nod eagerly, Loki quickly complies and you feel another vibrator on you. The wetness of your cunt only grows from the movement. You were so close to your own release.

Loki then begins to move again, thrusting and pounding in between your breasts before he moves one hand to your own, he forces you to hold your own boobs before his left hand moves to your throat whilst his right moves to your hair.

His cock twitches before his cum shoots onto your face, you chase your own orgasm with a loud moan—it fills the room and you swore if the party music still wasn't blasting you would've been heard.

Loki sighs and then leans down and kisses your forehead, the toys that were once on your body now evaporate into thin air with a snap of his fingers.

"You were so good for me, princess." He lifts you up and holds you against him in a protective hug. "Was I too rough, my love?"

You shake your head no, his spanks were painful but oh... so pleasurable.

"It was nice, you like my tits?" You tease him.

"Yes, obviously, princess." He smirks and kisses you again. "Let us take a bath?"

You nod.

Before he teleports the two of you out of the room his smirk grows.

"I hope Tony doesn't mind the mess."

"Loki!" You flush, but you can't help but to giggle.

That little moment leads the rest of the night to a joyful time, perhaps your husband being jealous was a good thing.

Check Pinned for Masters-List and Kinktober list!

#loki x reader #loki series #lokius #loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki season 2 #mcu loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu #tony stark #jealousy

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jotun-design-party · 4 months

Text

that's it for jötun design party! i had so much fun seeing everyone's designs. the most difficult part was picking the winners, but i got there in the end! here are the winners, why i picked them, and the prizes they won!

as i will not be using this account anymore, i'll leave this as the pinned post and link to This Post as well as the #orientalism search for anyone who may stumble upon this blog in the future ❄️

Jötun Design Party Winners

First Place

Prize: full-body drawing of a character (original or otherwise) of their choice. I have your discord, and will contact you when I have the time to start and complete your drawing!

@therese-lokidottir

elegant and cohesive, it's clear that a lot of thought was put into the world and culture of jötunheim. every design is distinct and filled with personality while still maintaining a singular aesthetic. looking at these designs together, it's easy to imagine how the characters might interact with each other and their vibrant world.

Second Place

Prize: half-body drawing of a character (original or otherwise) of their choice. Please message this tumblr with your preferred method of communication (Discord, Instagram, or Tumblr itself) and I will contact you when I have the time to start and complete your drawing!

@ak800

looking at this design, it's easy to tell how much love, time, and effort was put into it. with elements that mirror loki's canon moteifs altered in ways that feel cozy, it's undeniable that there was a lot of thought put into the jötnar as a people. they mirror asgard in a way that directly contrasts the claims we see the aesir make of them, while still feeling like a separate and distinct culture with their personalized magic, unique horns, and clear social dynamics

Third Place

Prize: bust-shot drawing of a character (original or otherwise) of their choice. Please message this tumblr with your preferred method of communication (Discord, Instagram, or Tumblr itself) and I will contact you when I have the time to start and complete your drawing!

@corvusartchronicles

while deceptively simple, this design is thoughtful and paints a very different picture of jötunheim than we are used to seeing in canon. this design implies a combination of mythologies, which we are very used to in marvel, while giving love and thought to a vivid world of religion which is not often given the same respect as norse or greek mythology. protected from the weather in a way that would not make a temperature-sensitive frost giant overheat, loki's design is full of love for both fantasy, and the very real people who often inspire it 💞

it means the world to me that as many people participated as they did and i really hope that this contest helped make this fandom a more inclusive space in some way

picking the winners for this was SO DIFFICULT. so under the cut, i have also enthused about some of the submitted designs because i wanted to be able to share my thoughts on more of them. i'm so sorry that i wasn't able to get to everyone!!

treacheroustrickster

all of those shades of green? i am in love

red tichel!!! was this a callback to loki's red hair in mythology? I AM IN LOVE EITHER WAY!!!

i know it's based on a canon design and russian ashkenazi fashion but the hair jewelry just looks so in-place here. if it was cold enough outside that i needed to layer my clothes then i too would prefer to wear my metals in my hair where it wouldn't feel cold against my skin

newsted

this one specifically is just so ROYAL to me. far more than most of the entries! it has my heart

the riding pants >>>

the fingerless gloves >>>>

this design, with the minimal layers of clothing mixed with the warm cloak, makes me feel like it's designed to keep loki protected from the cold winds that comes with riding horses at high speeds in the winter

vvviktor

NY FRIEND I LOVE THE DETAILS

the embroidery on the sleeves

and the idea of loki in bronze instead of gold is one that i adore. i associate gold so heavily with asgard AND with loki that whenever i try to design jötun lokis, it's incredibly difficult to pick whether to use gold or not. bronze is the PERFECT solution to this

also shut up the feet literally are not bad

du-ed

HOOVES!!!!!!

okay cuteness aggression aside i think this is such a smart idea for the jötnar.

it helps with that balance of showing them in minimal clothing to get across their lack of sensitivity to the cold while also actually protecting them from the snow they are likely at least knee-deep in half the time

like yes. just yes

of COURSE they would look like this it just makes sense to me

imreaallyasorry

look at this. JUST LOOK AT IT. what more do i need to say

its perfect. i will be following you on my new account

this is the cutest thing i've seen in my entire life

also the staff/scepter is so cool, it's gorgeous, that's MY moon queen and magic theatre

unityrain24

this one is SO COOL, it's my absolute favorite out of the designs you submitted.

it looks so warm and sleek, and the idea that travel wear is so different from everyday wear makes me wonder just how harsh the conditions on the planet are.

i'm an absolute sucker for designs that are distinctly alien like this and it has my heart i love it so so much

#jotun loki #jötun loki #jotun design party #marvel #frost giant loki #jotun loki fanart #loki fanart #loki art #loki of jotunheim #jotun form #jotunn loki #marvel loki #loki fandom #marvel fanart

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