#he is covered in buckles that bind him to loki in a sense; that bind him to his own fate and exploitation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokisgoodgirl · 1 year

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A Battle of Wills [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: [Oneshot] You and Loki play a dirty game of denial. (w/c 1.8k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Language.

“I give you five minutes,” Loki growled hot and wet in your ear.

The dulcet words dripped from his tongue like treacle. “Five minutes before you’re writhing and whining my name like penitent sinner on the church steps.” He gave the light restraints around your wrists a self-congratulatory yank. “Whatever, Laufeyson," you whispered, "I give you...three.” You didn’t need to see him to know he was frowning.

“Time will tell," he sniffed, haughtiness oozing. The rustle of a sanctimonious hair flick was the only noise in the pregnant silence while he straightened. “You’ll lose," you sighed, settling into the pillow. A smile pressed against the silk mask covering your eyes. “You’re too horny.” Loki’s defiant footsteps retreated, letting the bedroom door swing with a soft creak behind him. But it stayed ajar, the closing click never coming. You pressed your lips together, feeling the cracks where they had dried from his rough kisses. The corners tingled, the bruise beneath the skin of your cupids bow feeling tender. I’m not going to be the one. Not this time. You arched your back, pulling at the restraints. What knot was it tonight? A one handed slip? An inline double coin? A finger curled with difficulty over a lump of silk rope, mapping the tell-tale curves. A prusik head. So it was one of those nights. In the burgundy veil behind your eyelids, shadows danced. There was an exaggerated sigh as Loki reclined on the sofa, the creak of the frame under his weight slicing the stillness. You could feel the familiar tingle of his gaze darting sporadically towards the open door, heavy with lustful arrogance. Could he see you on the bed? Cautiously, you stretched a bare leg upwards, toe pointed to the ceiling before bending it over the other. The curve of your naked ass was displayed towards the doorway, a wordless invitation to rescue...or ravish, the bound and helpless damsel in his bed. A dark rumble sounded from the living room, a synchronised squeak from the furniture betraying your voyeur’s unmistakeable reaction. He could. You smiled, imagining his slanted brows, his tongue instinctually licking towards where you lay strewn like prey. The gloss from your abandoned pussy would still be on his lips. Beneath his nose. A taste of what he was denying himself. The primal scent would be hanging thick in his nostrils. Your sly smile stretched wider. It had been what, ten seconds? Feigning an attempt to escape the binds, you moaned softly. The sofa creaked again. You could sense the anxious whirr of Loki's racing mind, his fingers clenching and unclenching as he tried to distract himself. The slide of cotton against his thighs as he crossed his legs. A tepid exhale as he uncrossed them again. Your lip twitched, hearing the familiar clunk of his belt buckle. And so it begins, you thought; as he carefully unfurled the leather through its holster. He was trying to be quiet. Trying to be subtle. And he was failing.

You squeezed your eyelids shut beneath the blindfold, concentrating. Each breath rising in your chest was tempered as you tried to zone in on the smallest sounds which betrayed Loki’s impatience. A low hum rustled through the air. His zipper, you thought smugly as you slid your legs together, pushing your chest upwards. He paused, listening - before resuming the zipper's clandestine descent. You could sense the grit of his teeth. The silent snarl as he wordlessly cursed the game he had initiated.

The delayed pleasure built to breaking point was always worth it, but god – it was torture. Before slipping on the blindfold, Loki’s tongue had explored every crevice of your sex, bringing you tantalisingly close to the edge. The sight of his dark crown buried between your open thighs flashed through your mind in silken darkness; low pants of muffled moans wet against your skin. With one final, licentious lick his face had risen between your trembling legs. The tip of his tongue danced softly over the curve of your clit as he teased your climax like a hanging axe. Snatching it away. From the look in his eyes, you had known what was coming. Mischief. And now it was time for him to pay. “Mmmm…” you moaned softly, sliding your hips on the soft sheets. The silk of your hold-ups slipped easily against the cotton, gracefully manoeuvring you into another achingly seductive position. “Cheater,” you heard the god rumble under his breath. He inhaled sharply, breath catching. It was the sound he always made when those long fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock for the first time. Loki let out a juddering sigh as he began to stroke himself. You let your mind become quiet. From the tortuously controlled rate of his breathing, you knew he was moving slowly. Too slowly. But he couldn’t resist the urge. He would barely be touching himself, trying to work every ounce of pleasure from the lightest of pumps. He didn’t want you to know how desperate he was. And he was desperate. Or at least, he would be. You squirmed. It was all you could do not to scream for him to mount you like an animal and fuck you into the headboard. Right now his shoulder-blades would be squeezing together, jaw set in a snarl as he tempered his pleasure. The velvet skin which coated its cock; the veins which crested along the thick shaft would sizzle under his calloused fingers. You had traced every one with your tongue, each secret sensitivity exposed as he grasped the bedsheets and grit his teeth to the ceiling. Right now you knew those same perfect teeth would be grinding, those piercing eyes fixed on his woman as she widened her legs. Maybe next time he’ll bind those too, you thought with a smirk. But not tonight. Not after the timer starts. That’s against the rules.

In your speckled darkness you could picture him sitting on the sofa beyond the door as clear as day. He was still wearing his suit trousers – he could remove them but he mistakenly thought they would increase his chances of denying the urge to break first. His pale cock would be standing proud from the splayed fly, the wetted tip tapping against his stomach with every achingly slow pump of his hand. The sight of Loki of Asgard fucking himself would never get old. The way he worked his carved, chiselled body - the clench of his obliques as he tightened his grip around the leaking tip. He would gather the foreskin before pulling roughly down. You loved that. How he retained that erotic stoicism until the final, tense moment when he splattered his seed on your tongue. Your face. Your tits. The fact he had denied you that sight tonight was another reason for revenge. A muffled grunt sounded through the wall. ‘Gods’, it growled, the timbre inhuman. He knew what was coming.

You didn’t care if the hot slick between your thighs was saliva or fresh arousal. The thought of it being both sent a thrill racing through your blood. You clenched, feeling it begin to seep between your cheeks. It tickled. A moan slid past your lips as you let your legs fall open, thrusting gently to the ceiling as you arched your back. Don’t say his name, you cursed silently. Don’t call out.

The clock ticked. There was a scuff as Loki’s feet drew towards the sofa on which he sat; toes curling in his dress shoes. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Loki released a ragged breath. He sucked in sharply, the bite of pleasure from his tightening fingers making him wince. He was leaking. Drops of pre-cum squeezed from the aching tip of his cock with every reluctant sweep of his fist. He had begun too soon. He knew that. He glanced to the side, instantly regretting it. There you were, laid out like supper. Your wrists bound to his bed-frame. A prusik head knot – you wouldn’t escape that easily. Even with your talents. The sight made him weak. His stare roamed hungrily over the straps of your lingerie, supple curves glowing in the sultry light from the salt lamp. Only the bra and unhooked suspender belt remained. The matching panties lay discarded and wet on the bedroom floor. Had he ripped them in his eagerness to latch his searching mouth to your perfect little cunt? He couldn’t recall. With you, it always turned into a bit of a haze. Like an animal, he mulled; lowering his chin to his chest.

Loki bit his lip, stifling a growl as your feet slid up the sheets. The lace rims of your hold ups flashed as you squirmed coquettishly. I should have closed the door, Loki pondered bitterly. You knew exactly how to drive him to the brink. And he knew what came next.

“Gods,” he murmured gruffly, mouth agape as your knees fell open. In sync, his brows slanted. If only you could see him, you would instantly know how close he was to abandoning his hand in favour of your heavenly body. In favour of that sinfully decadent mess displayed brazenly between your open legs. Your smirk would be unbearable as he paced towards you like a defeated war-lord to yield his sword to your possession. Honour-bound to surrender. Fucking that smirk off your face would be an absolute pleasure. Loki grimaced, giving his shaft a punishing squeeze. She is growing too sure of her power over me, he snarled to himself. Do not yield. His narrowed eyes inched reluctantly over your glistening folds, plump pink skin begging to be sucked. Begging to be fucked. The top of your thighs shimmered. She’s so ready to be mine, look at her – he thought, the familiar dark haze descending. Spread and wet and insolent. Saliva welled beneath his tongue. Loki instinctively leant forward, the taste of you still lingering in his mouth as his muscles twitched. Perhaps he had been too hasty. Perhaps, tonight was not the time for games – not when you looked so- “F-fuck…” he growled, as a thumb slipped over the sensitive underside. The sticky digit caught against his foreskin, making his eyes roll back. All he needed was you. All he wanted was your hands, your mouth – your needy mewls as he made your world shake. He watched your hips thrust gently to the ceiling, every low clench of your ass driving him demented with lust.

Were you imagining his cock rocking into you? She better be. He grit his teeth. From the melodic gyration in your hips, he knew you were getting it how you liked it on nights like this. Slow, and rippling. Crushingly fluid thrusts that drove you back into the headboard and spilled you over the edge like treacle as you shamelessly howled his name. Loki’s fingers tightened around his shaft, pace quickening. His head fell back against the sofa, curls hanging sluttishly against his collarbone. He released a calculated moan of pleasure, brow furrowing as he saw your back arch in response. You will not surrender, he chanted to himself. Loki's eyes fell on your slippery sex, clenching in synchronisation with his rising groan, a well of glistening heat smothering your little cunt. Any moment now, he thought desperately, beginning to pant. Any moment now...she’ll break.

You slid one leg down the bed, warmth spreading in your belly as you heard Loki’s rattling sigh. The urge to call out to him was unbearable. To have him storm into the bedroom like a sexual warrior and begin his carnal worship, invading every curve with his weight. With his hands and mouth and words. ‘Loki...fuck me’. That’s all it would take. The phrase lingered on your tongue like salt, ready to spit. The words caught behind your teeth. God, he was too much. And you wanted it all. Now. But then, had he even been trying tonight? Or, maybe you were just that good. A single desperate whimper fluttered as you pulled the binds around your wrists. Loki choked suddenly, a rasping gasp tearing the stillness. A tight slap of his palm against the sofa sounded as he steadied himself. He had been close. Too close. You smirked as silence fell. You could barely hear him breathing. “Fuck,” Loki murmured bitterly. His tongue caught wetly on the k. There were no more words from Loki Laufeyson. Only the sound of his open belt buckle clunking gently as he stood, sword in hand. Ready to surrender.

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officialleehadan · 5 years

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Prophesy Unheeded

For once, Cassandra had set the appointment herself. Tom didn’t know whether to be afraid or pleased.

Or hopeful. This was progress, whatever else it might be.

“There’s going to be an earthquake today,” Cassandra said causally as she took her usual seat, feet propped up on the chair across from her.

Her arm was out of the sling, with no sign that it had ever been broken. Tom wasn’t sure what to think about that either. Broken arms didn’t usually heal in a week or less.

“You told me that last time,” Tom said, and leaned forward. He spent the weekend reading about Norse mythology and really didn’t know what to think of the teenager in front of him. “That there would be an earthquake. A big one, you said.”

“It’s time to Empty the Bowl,” Cassandra shrugged like she didn’t care if he believed her, but he could see her watching him. She wanted to see what he was going to do about her words, if anything. “It’s been a long time, and believe me, it’s gonna be a bad one.”

“You’ve said that before too,” Tom said, and pulled out one of his new books. “Empty the bowl. What does that mean, anyway? The reading I’ve done doesn’t say much about it.”

“In the Days Long past,” Cassandra said, smiling but a little sad, with her eyes fixed on some distant thing out the window. “Loki, called silvertongue, called betrayer, came to Odin’s Hall, and there battled word against word with those gathered.”

Her voice was steady, like it was a story she heard often enough to know it without the slightest hesitation. There was a sense of immense age about her words. “In revenge for his victory there, Odin turned the older of Loki’s twin sons to a mad wolf. There Nari murdered his brother. When the sun rose, Nari was gone, and Vali was dead, and Odin used Vali’s entrails to bind Loki to the stone, because even in death, Loki could not harm one of his children.”

“And what happened?” Tom found himself curious. The books told the story, but Cassandra told it differently. “After Loki was bound?”

“They tied a great snake above him.” Cassandra said, her smile fading. “To drip venom on his face until the End Times. His wife, Sigyn, holds a bowl over him to catch the venom. But over time the bowl fills, and she has to empty it, and the venom falls, and Loki thrashes, and the earth shakes.”

“So what does that have to do with an earthquake today?” Cassandra’s delusions were potentially a problem, and one that Tom was working to address. It didn’t help that her family not only bought into her delusions, but actually encouraged them. “You seem pretty sure.”

“It’s time to empty the Bowl,” Cassandra said, and stared at him like he was being very stupid. “When Grandmother Empties the Bowl, the venom falls on Grandfather’s face.”

“Sounds painful.”

“It’s torture,” Cassandra said bitterly. “It doesn’t take long but the damage is… it’s terrible.”

Tom might have said something, anything, because that was a lot of bitterness about some kind of delusion, even if it was built around the clearly-genuine suffering of her sick grandfather.

A sharp, rattle snapped his attention away from the teen and towards his desk, where each of his pens slowly jittered over the edge and fell, one by one, to the dancing floor.

Before he could figure out what was happening, Cassandra was out of her chair and lunging for the table. It wasn’t much, but when the rattle turned to a rumble and the floor bucked under his chair, Tom decided she had the right idea after all.

“I really wish they named me after someone who occasionally got listened to,” Cassandra muttered, and held onto the table as the rumble turned to a roar, and ceiling tiles rained down around them. Someone screamed outside the door, and Tom tried to go for them, only for Cassandra to wrench him back under cover. “What are you doing?!”

“We have to get outside!”

“Get down!”

She was much stronger than he was, and Tom didn’t have time to wonder how that was. The floor shuddered violently, and cracks rippled towards their scant cover as the building tore itself apart. For a moment, Tom thought they would be alright. And then the floor truly gave, and they plummeted down into the classroom below.

Tom landed, but not well. Cassandra popped back to her feet like she fell through ceilings all the time.

A steel I-beam crashed through the ruined floor on top of them, and Tom saw his life flash before his eyes even as he tried and failed to get out of the way in time.

“Strong as Jörmangdr!”

And then, somehow Cassandra was there, arms circled by runes, glowing with their own light.

Somehow, impossibly, she caught the beam just before it crushed them.

“Get out of the way!” she screamed, arms shaking, boots slipping on the dusty floor as she strained against the weight of the beam, and gravity, and the rest of the ceiling. “Move!”

Tom scrambled for cover as the earth continued to pitch under them, and the walls crumbled. Students were screaming and crying, but when he shoved them under whatever cover was handy, they went without fighting.

But Cassandra’s runes were fading and her knees buckled under half a ton of steel. Still she refused to give up, and struggled to push it away even as more and more rubble piled down on top of what she already held.

Somehow, she managed to get out from under the beam before her runes faded completely.

Tom dragged her out of the way when the rest of the ceiling collapsed down, burying them and half a class of terrified teenagers under a mountain of ruined building.

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The Last of Loki’s Brood:

Cassandra Brann is a Troubled Student. She is difficult, at best, defiant at worst, and has more secrets than a dozen spies.

And her family is worse.

BeLIEve Me

Family Gathered

Red-Gold and Silver-Grey

Prophesy Unheeded

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