#loki sow | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chantsdemarins · 3 months

Text

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

119 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

The Sticking Point 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, possible violence, illness, death, bullying, ableism, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You are sent in the place of your ailing sister to marry a stranger. (Regency AU)

Character: Loki

Note: It's Friday. I'll probably try to chill. Work is wild yall.

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

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

Love you all. Take care. 💖

There's a silence, weighed between three; Thor, Jane, and yourself. You feel is crushing you, resting across your chest, constricting your throat. You put your gloved fingertips on the table and rise.

"Pawdon," you cringe at your own voice, "I must see to my mother…"

Thor rises, Jane doesn't bother as she pats her stomach. You leave without further pretense. Your skirts ruffle around your slippers as you flee without true purpose.

It's an excuse. Your mother wouldn't want to see you, to be reminded of the burden she's left with. Your betrothed and his parents can hardly think better of the circumstance. Yet you loathe to think how it should be if this contract is declared null.

You enter the corridor and turn aimless towards the center of the house. Apart from the few rooms you've been shown into, you haven't much sense for the layout of the house. Loki never troubled to guide you and your mother kept herself cloistered up in her grief.

You shuffle forward. Perhaps a breath of fresh air or if you go so far as your chambers, you might hide in there. You proceed through to the drawing room and give pause. Low timbres in mid-hush, from behind a door not quite shut.

Your name escape the space between frame and clasp. You go no further, instead tiptoeing to hide behind a broad bookshelf, just between the hidden office and the entrance. You tamp down your breaths and listen, knowing you shouldn't, knowing you can only regret to hear the unbridled truth.

"...she can hardly speak a word…"

"Perhaps it is that you don't allow her too. You've always been one to do overly much speaking," Odin retorts, "Loki, have you considered her demureness may be a blessing? That the sort you are would do better with one who listens before they talk, eh? You could learn–"

"Father, she is not what I was promised."

"She holds the same bearing and she is not hideous. She's rather becoming, I think–"

"Oh yes, then why don't you have her? Have you tired of the maid already?"

"Careful, boy," Odin growls, "do not be so petulant. If you could restrain yourself you might realise what you've been given."

"A dumb mute–"

There's a strike of flesh on flesh. A grunt and a snarl, each from a different throat.

"She is to be your wife. Do not sow bitterness in the soil. You should pity that she must put up with an ingrate such as yourself. You are getting exactly as I promised, you will have your vineyard in Kyri, you will have an estate in tears when her father is regrettably gone… what else can I give you? Shall I cut my heart out?"

"If I refuse, I have Jade Park. It is mine by right."

"You haven't any right if you do not provide an heir to it," Odin rebuffs.

"She is not the only duke's daughter–"

"Of a dozen, I'm sure, but cruel as it is to say, they aren't all in queue for a second born."

"You needn't remind me. Thor has his pick, he may do as he pleases, and I get scraps!" Loki blusters, "fine, father, if only to rid myself of your mighty hand. I will marry and you will be gone from my estate. By my right!"

You press yourself to the wall and clamp your lips shut as Loki storms out. He has his hand on his cheek for a moment before tearing his fingers away. He does not look back as he crosses the chamber, stomping through the next doorway just as he sends a standing vase crashing to the floor with an angry swipe.

You stay stuck to the wall as you hear softer steps. It's too late to flee but the Grand Duke calls you out before you can think of it. Odin says your name just as he peeks around the bookcase.

"Apologies you had to witness my son's tantrum. At his age, you'd think he'd be past all that," he slants his lips tritely.

"Pawdon, yaw gwace, I didn't mean to intwude–"

"It mightn't have been your mission but along the way you did make the choice. I don't fault you that, curiosity is dangerous," he shakes his head, "I am ashamed, lady, to think my son is so stubborn and uncouth. It isn't how I've brought him up."

"It's… it's fine, yaw gwace, I know I am not… expected."

"Eh, none of us are, are we?" He tugs on his cravat with irritation, "what say you? Shall I show you the splendors of Jade Park as my sons steeps in his childishness?"

"Yaw gwace?"

"I presume you've not been given the proper look around. I admit my son is rightly jilted by me. I was rather reluctant to hand this over. It has ever been my most treasured property but even second sons need some value… and second daughters…" he offers his arm as he turns, "besides, it's been some years since a pretty young lady adorned my arm."

You look at his sleeve then his flinty hair. He does not censor himself but his truth is not mean. It is only just that. It is what is. You tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow and thank him softly.

"I should thank you, lady," he pats your hand, "I can appreciate someone who reveres silence."

He sets off, tugging you into step. You keep pace, comforted and for the first, at ease in this strange place. This place you must call home.

"We'll save the gardens, I've a little secret for you there."

🔹

“I must return to be sure the banns are read at perish, as they will be here,” your mother points Doreen to her luggage chest with her fan, giving a silent order. “Oh, to think, I must attend my daughter’s grave in the same week I sit to hear the other engaged.”

You’re silent, patient. You know it’s better to let your mother ramble than to interrupt. If any one cared to hear it, you might admit you’re not dismayed to see her leave.

“Be sure you behave. Your father and I made an effort to keep you aware of etiquette. Do mind your manners,” she chides.

“Yes, motha.”

“Oh, and…” she gives you a tortured look, “try to choose your words carefully.”

You nod. You know her meaning clearly. Avoid those syllables that underline your detriment.

“Good, good. Your father is devastated about your sister, you see? I must away.”

“I understand.”

“It isn’t so difficult to be a wife,” she comes close and looks you in your face, “it is part of being a woman. Give him an heir, or two, and you’ll have the rest of your life to be happy. Duty first.”

She touches your arm, squeezing it before she spins to remind Doreen not to forget her chain of pearls left on the vanity. You tuck your chin down and bite your lip.

Duty. What if your husband doesn’t do his? What if he cannot? If he is so repulsed by you, you might not even have the chance to provide him an heir.

🔹

As your mother departs, the Grand Duke and Duchess remain. The first son and Lady Jane take their leave as well, insisting on having the expectant wife home in case of a sudden labour. Even with a few additional guests, the house feels empty. You have only your novels and Doreen, and she is reticent company, a hard line drawn between you by status.

You tire of the pages. You’ve read them a dozen times at least. All of your books are well worn and near memorised. It’s easier to live in your head where you do not sound like a fool.

You approach the door and ponder without. You have a yearning to explore but a fear of what lays outside. You’ve never been much for social graces; you have neither tact nor eloquence. You tend to shy away and forget your posture.

You clutch the handle, battling your fear. You pull the door open, assured by the silence of the corridor, and emerge. You look right, then left, and turn to the former. You wander down to the door you recalled from your stroll with Odin.

The dark oak with the long vertical handles that spiraled at the top. You ease one open, edging quietly into the darkness within. You should’ve brought a candlestick but the windows allow enough light to limn the shelves and upholstered chairs around a single low table.

You wade through the dull hue and stop before a shelf nearest the window, shifting a book to read the spine. Swift. You’ve not read anything by that author. You slide it loose and flip back the cover and flutter past the front page; A Tale of a Tub imprinted into the sheet.

You squint as you turn to the first page of cramped font. You bend your neck and turn towards a light, not realising the glow moves towards you, only focus on the unraveling of letters before you. A shadow nears until you are drawn up by its umbrous presence.

“Oh!” You gasp in surprise.

Loki looks down his nose as he holds a candlestick. You peer past him to the dark rectangle of the doorway that leads to the attached sitting room. You give a sheepish look to the floor as he reaches for the book in your hand. You let him slide it free, his thumb hooked over the pages before he snaps it shut in his hand.

“Satire. A musing of theology and science. Hardly a woman’s novel,” he remands. “My mother may have something to your preference.”

You take a step back and look at the window, the sun yellow and warm through the pane. You bring one hand up your arm to pinch your sleeve nervously. He is cold and you will never be used to it. A whole life to be spent in the tempest of his distaste.

“Funny, you should be repulsed by me?” He snorts.

You face him and feel the crease between your brows. He lets his eyes drift to the ceiling and gives a scoff. He spins on his heel and sets the candlestick on a tall table between the shelves.

“Let us not pretend either of us are happy. Even if you say little, it is written across your face. I saw it the moment we met. Then I heard you speak and I knew it was all a great joke on my behalf.”

You frown and squeeze your arm, keeping your arm bent across your front, like a shield, “what did you see… when we met?”

He shoves the book back on the shelf. You watch the fabric of his vest strain between his shoulders, almost admire how he’s folded his sleeves to the elbow, though the tops remain bloused. He tilts his head and strides along the wall of books.

“You act so innocent. I don’t believe it, not like the rest. You sit and pout and mope, expecting everyone to coddle you, to feel bad for you. I do not.”

“I do not act–”

“You lie like any woman does. Let us be clear, my wife will not lie. Not to me.” He turns and crosses his arms, leaning on the bookshelf, hooking one foot over the other. He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. “You will be quiet unless given leave to speak. I needn’t be further embarrassed. My father and brother have always made certain I am derided, you will not join them.”

“Loki–”

“Lord Laufeyson, husband, nothing else. Not your companion, not some kindred spirit, not anything but a convenience. A duty,” he raises a long finger as he speaks, “once I get a child on you, then we will be very much as we were before. Separate. Can you understand me?”

You bite down as hard as you can, until your jaw hurts. He speaks to you in the same tone your father used when he was agitated. He treats you like a child and yet, as Odin said, he acts like one himself. Spoiled and mean.

“I am not stupid, yaw gwace,” you say.

He narrows his eyes and stands straight, gripping his hips as he glares at you, “we’ve said all we need to say. You may go.”

You don’t move. Not right away. You don’t know why you don’t. Your heart is drumming and your ears are tingling.

“I am dismissing you,” he sneers.

You stare. Still regardless of the sharpness to his lilt.

He pulls his hands off his hips and balls them, posturing as he takes a step forward. You wince as a spasm of anger tics in his cheek.

You let the tension out of your jaw and drop your arm straight. You surrender but you do not hang your head as you turn to leave. You walk stiffly towards the door. As you reach it, he speaks again.

“Do not come in here again,” he bids.

You do not answer. You don’t argue. You don’t look back. You just go.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the sticking point #au #mcu #marvel #thor #jane foster #odin #frigga #avengers

214 notes · View notes

lovebvni · 6 months

Text

when things fall apart

things fall apart all the time. and it hurts. it burns. it makes you feel angry, it makes you feel sad, numb, frustrated, and confused.

for the past two years of my life, things have been falling apart — but as much as they were, they were coming together.

at the beginning of my shifting journey, i was scared and uncomfortable with witchcraft. now im a witch.

at the beginning of my shifting journey, i was scared i would never shift. here i am, having temporarily [mini] shifted (consciously) over 100 times.

at the beginning of this, i was broken. here i am, still broken, but with a foundation to build on.

when things fall apart, they begin coming together.

you begin understanding the reasons things happen, how they relate, what’s about to happen. you grow stronger as a being. you see things in a different way. you get more and more signs that something big is about to happen that your manifestations are coming.

and the more and more you start to doubt in your physical mind, in this temporary body that’s just a sleeve of your soul… the more and more you’ll see change and results.

the more pain, waiting, hurt and confusion you experience, the more success you’ll see.

and as a being, the more effort you put in, the more the universe will reward you. you reap what you sow.

don’t give up now. you’re right there. don’t worry about tomorrow, or how, or when, or why you’ve felt like this. worry about now. how you feel and how you’re going to accept everything.

embrace the pain, worry and sorrow, the anger. it’s part of you.

the more things fall apart, the faster they come together.

break your reality to build a new one. embrace the chaos.

from both the beings of Loki and the Abyss.

blessings from us, and may you find comfort in the chaos which is life.

83 notes · View notes

moonlight1237 · 8 months

Text

Elder ᚠᚱᛖᛁᛃᚨ Younger ᚠᚱᛁᛁᛁᛅ

Freyja/Frøya (The Lady)

Epithets And Titles

Gullveig (gold-greed) Her more magical and ruthless side is closely associated with fire due to her being burned but not harmed

Vanadis (lady of the Vanir) Her neural side has a little bit of all her aspects and is what you normally call on

Gefn (giver) Her motherly giving side associated with fertility and harvests etc

Horn (flax) Her side associated with Love, sex, and playfulness

Mardoll (root word Marr meaning sea. Sea bright) One of her sides associated with death and war

Syr (sow)

Valfreyja (Lady of the Slain) Another side associated with Death and War

Lady of fire

Heid (Völva from Voluspa)

Thrung

Lady of the Disir

Skialf

Queen of Folkvangr

Chief of the Vanir

Queen of the valkyrie

Possessor of the fallen

Ruling/Domain

Folkvangr is her realm and Sessrumnir is her hall.

(and is sometimes said to be where she takes her half of the dead but this is disputed)

Family

Njord is her father and her mother is never mentioned but is speculated to be Skadi or Njords sister, an unnamed Vanir goddess. Her twin is Frey(r). She has 2 daughters Hnoss and Gersemi both of which translate to "treasure" though only mentioned in Christian sources and Gersemi is only mentioned once. In the Eddas, it says she has a husband named Oðr which is one of Odin's names, and gets into the Frigga and Freyja debate.

History

I won't get too much into the debate on her and Frigga but by the myths, they are different and separate beings. Historically they were possibly the same once and split over time but they are not the same now.

Frøya has a necklace she always wears. Its name is Brisgamen is a torc/necklace made by the dwarves and frøya supposedly spent a night with each of them who made it to get Brisingamen. In other myths Thor wears it dressed as Frøya during the fake wedding to Thrym the giant who stole Thor's hammer, then when Loki stole it and gave it to Odin when Odin made her start a war to get it back.

She also had a Boar named Hildisvini "Battle-swine" which she turned her husband oðr into and rode in one of the myths.

In the Grimnismal translation, it says "then" Odin picks not "and" giving the idea Freyja picks first but it's never mentioned otherwise. But modernly we accept that she does have the first pick.

Gullveig is believed to be another name for frøya she was a sorceress who predicted the Æsir, Vanir war and was burned alive 3 times by the Æsir each time coming back to life and was struck by spears and still didn't die.

She, like Odin, was known to use many different names throughout the myths and in her travels.

She's the one who taught Odin and the other Æsir gods how to do Seidr magic.

After the Æsir, Vanir war they exchanged hostages, and Frøya, Njordh, and Frey went to live with the Æsir in Asgard.

It's rumored but never confirmed if Freyr and Freyja have Elven ancestors. But she is NOT a valkyrie; the only sources with that are later Christian sources; this is believed to be the same thing as making her out to be a love goddess and sexualizing her.

The myths never actually show her as a Vølva but her association with magic gives us the idea she is.

She also had a chariot that was pulled by cats sometimes people believe they’re Lynx.

Historical worship/practice

She had a fertility cult in the Viking age that stopped due to Christianity and a cult that lasted up until Snorri's age and time but that stopped soon after. She and Frigga were called on during childbirth, historically our source coming from a midwife.

Associations

Death

Love

Lust

Magic (especially Seidr)

War

Cats

Wealth

Divination

Fertility

Beauty

Glory

Days of the Week

Friday

Special days

Alfarblót (The first day of winter celebrated in the home in private the time when we connect to ancestral magic to the Elven folk)

Elements

Fire

Numbers

Colors

Gold (fav)

Light Pink

Green (fav)

Copper

Silver

Yellow

Light Purple

Red

Brown

Planet

The Moon

Animals

Cats

Horses

Boar/Sows

Rabbits

Swallows

Lynx

Falcons/Birds of prey

Ladybugs

Cuckoo

Plants

And flowers

Basil

Roses

Roseroot

Common Valerian

Mugwort

Rosemary

Apples

Primrose

Raspberries

Strawberries

Cinnamon

Poppy's

Daisy's

Almonds

Hay

Snow Blossoms

Linden

Essential oils/incense

Strawberry

Lavender

Lilac

Juniper

Cinnamon

Any sweet scents

Any baked good scents

Amber

Mint

Peppermint

Rose

Mulberry

Rosemary

Vanilla

Jasmine

Cypress

Sandalwood

Myrrh

Birch

Crystals

Rose quartz

Amber

Gold

Carnelian

Citrine

Any moonstone

Malachite

Black Tourmaline

Pink Tourmaline

River rock

Rubies

Divinational associations (runes/tarot)

Fehu, Sowilo, Berkano, Queen of wands, Queen of swords, The empress, The high priestess, The lovers, The star (Wildwood deck The Seer, and The Woodward)

Offerings and Devotional acts

Any Meads

Flowers (pressed or fresh)

Anything handmade for her

Stretching

Learning sword work

Exercising

Things respectfully taken from nature

Jewelry

Poetry (especially traditional Norse)

Hot coco

Any tea

Wine

Sweet drinks or spice like cinnamon

Potatoes

Stews

Any meats

Any Berries

Ethically gathered Bones, Cat claws, and cat whiskers (DO NOT HARM AN ANIMAL FOR THESE)

Self-Care

Spending time in nature

Learning runes

Learning distaff spinning

Any imagery associated with her

Learning magic or divination

Any baked goods (bread, muffins, honey cakes, etc)

Honey

Honeycomb

Cat statues

Boar imagery

Fostering cats/kittens

Lighting candles every day in her honor

Burning incense for her (she likes things with flames or burning)

Bonfires

Flax bundles

A staff making a staff for your craft if you practice Seidr they are commonly used in it and you could make your devotional staff for that and have it by her alter.

Alter Suggestions

Candles

Bones

Jewelry (especially gold-colored)

Statues of her or her cats

Swords/axes/spears/shields

Wooden bowls or horn bowls

Incense

Plants

Imagery of Folkvangr

Dedicated Poems about her or love or death

The artwork you make her

Animal pelts

Runes

Fehu imagery

Chants

Runic Chants/chanting the runes

Old Norse songs

(Both are commonly used in seidr)

Signs they may be reaching out

Smelling scents associated with her out of nowhere

Seeing her in dreams and meditations

Becoming more attracted to colors associated with her

Being closer to Cats or cats favoring you a lot or having different behaviors toward you

Views over death and war changed drastically

Having potential in Seidr magic

Being a seer/seeress

Being open to the spirit realm and the dead and speaking to them

Having a very sudden interest in her

Feeling a very feminine energy and string energy in the room (she's not subtle at all)

Liking foods associated with her that you didn't before

Sudden interest in distaff or spindling.

SOURCES

Freyja, Lady, Vanadis: An Introduction to the Goddess

by Patricia M. Lafayllve

Poetic Edda translated by Jackson Crawford

Tales of Norse Mythology by Helen A. Guerber

The Norse Gods and Goddesses (Intro.)

Frigg and Freyja

The Vanir

The Vǫlva (Norse Seeress) and Seiðr

Valkyries (Valkyrjur)

Fólkvangr (Folkvang)

THE NORSE GODS: FREYJA || General info, what working with Freyja is like and offerings

Freyja (Freya) Norse Goddess of Love, Warriors, and Cats

My Experiences with Deities: Freyja

Seiðr Magic and Gender

https://teaandrosemary.com/freya-goddess/

https://study.com/academy/lesson/goddess-freyja-facts-symbols-norse-mythology.html

https://historycooperative.org/freyja-the-norse-goddess-of-love/

https://historiska.se/norse-mythology/freyja-en/

https://hrafnar.org/articles/dpaxson/asynjur/freyja/

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Freyja

https://www.northvegr.org/nordic-goddess/froya-freyja

https://www.spiritualityhealth.com/freyja-sensuality

104 notes · View notes

worstloki · 2 years

Text

AU where Loki finds out he’s Jotun and decides as an aroace to use the newfound Prince of Jotunheim status to disguise himself and request his own hand in marriage

#‘Thor takes Loki for peace between the realms AU’ NO! Loki is taking Loki for peace treaty between the realms!!#Thor narrowing his eyes at the Jotun guy like who is this guy why does he have his eyes on my brother >:|#Thor narrowing his eyes at Loki like hang on why is Loki looking mildly interested in this ...proposal. surely he is not considering it—#this can possibly include Jotun Loki deciding to pull out the genderfluid card idk #WHAT IF THOR STARTS GOING >.> AT JOTUN LOKI #bc it’s a lady he doesn’t suspect a thing—#Laufey like oh my child is alive?! I don’t care if you’re whatever gender come here ily <3 #yes you have permission to propose to yourself you even have my blessing. sow that discord my child

56 notes · View notes

ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 2 years

Text

Deliriously Happy

“Loki and the reader are in a forced marriage. They don't like each other but secretly are in love with other and the sexual tension between them is very high. One day the reader gets sick, really sick so Loki takes care of her himself (not the maids). The reader finally realises and the confession results in hot steamy and smutty sex.”

A request for @slaveforloki ! Hope this is to your liking! BTW I didn’t realize it before, but my Asks were closed, so now they are on (and open) for anyone who wants to send me a req! Enjoy the one-shot!

PAIRING: Loki x Virgin!Reader CONTENT WARNING: 18+ MINORS DNI. Smut, forced and unhappy marriage, Loki is an Asshole, illness, virgin kink, breeding kink WORD COUNT: 5.7k

Your wedding day was the worst day of your life.

It was hard enough for Odin to maintain a tentative peace between Asgard and Jotunneheim, but then there came the whispers in Vanaheim of a discontent with Asgard, and a possible desire to go to war. As a result, Odin picked you, only daughter of the Vanir King, to wed his second son, Loki Odinson, to create an alliance instead.

Why he’d picked his second born instead of his more formidable (and dashing) heir apparent Thor, was beyond you. All you knew is, you were shipped off to Asgard like a prized sow going to market, meeting your intended for the first time on your wedding day.

You’d been led into a small sitting room, furnished to the nines with the most plush and beautiful of furniture. Sitting on a sofa, you were left alone for several minutes in nervous anticipation before Loki finally trudged in with a guard, statuesque and handsome, but clearly in a rush. Coming over to you, you got to your feet and quickly ran a hand over your dress in a vain attempt to make yourself look pristine for your betrothed.

Looking you up and down for an inordinately long time, making you shiver, Loki finally shrugged, turned to his assistant and said, “She’ll do.”

Then he went to leave.

You couldn’t believe it. A one-minute glance-over and that was it?

“Excuse me, but don’t you want to know my name?” you asked, you voice strong and angry at the rudeness.

Loki didn’t even stop to address you. All he did was say casually, “I can’t see why it matters what your name is. We wed tonight at sunset.”

Leaving you alone without anyone for comfort or support, he closed the door behind him.

Four hours later, dressed in the finest Asgardian wedding robes imaginable, your hair done up in the most exquisite hairstyle, a diadem of silver roses crowning your head, you and Loki walked hand-in-hand towards a large, ancient cauldron set aflame, where King Odin, Queen Frigga, Prince Thor, and about fifty other high-ranking Asgardians generals and nobles, lined your path.

During the ceremony, you had to admit that Loki was handsome, even in his neutral, passionless demeanor. His hand, though cold to your touch, was still soft, and it held yours firmly. He recited his vows with elegance, and he even offered you a small smile as he looked into your eyes, both hands in yours, and promised before Asgard to take you for his only wife, and for as long as life endured, he would cherish and honor you as his other half.

You recited the same vows, but when you said them, they fell out of your mouth like you were spitting out stones. Your anxiety (and growing angry) at the thought of spending an eternity with this shell of an attractive man was causing you to waver.

The only point during the ceremony you’d felt any positive emotion was the second-long leap you felt in your chest when you realized, trembling while listening to Odin, Loki was gently running his thumb over the back of your fingers. You liked the feeling of the tender gesture, but soon enough, he dropped your hand for the kiss.

You wanted to run, but knowing your country’s peace was at stake, you went through the marriage ritual, sharing a torch with your groom, casting it into the eternal flame together, then sharing a kiss underneath the billowing smoke.

The kiss was as you expected it to be: cold, quick, and without a hint of emotion behind it.

At the feast afterwards, you couldn’t eat a morsel, especially sitting next to your groom, who also wasn’t touching very much on his plate (though he was swallowing goblets of wine like they were the last in existence). Instead, you decided to try and dance with the revelers, maybe endearing yourself to one of them. You needed an ally in the palace if you were going to suffer a lifetime of marriage with Loki Odinson.

You were a fantastic dancer. You were offered a dance with each of the Warriors Three, and you admitted to yourself that you would take any one of them as a husband over the prince you now had to call ‘husband.’

Loki, of course, never joined you. Instead, you saw him watching you with fixation from his seat at the head of the bridal party’s table as you danced with as many men in the room as you could, just out of spite. Even Thor offered his hand (though for his strength and elegance on the battlefield the man proved to have two left feet on a dance floor).

You both had gotten so intoxicated in order to cope with the day’s events, that you went to separate chambers that night and did not sleep with one another. You didn’t care. In fact, it was preferred.

Thus, on your wedding night, you remained a virgin, and fully intended to remain so. You were sure your new mate felt similarly.

It was a great start to a lifetime partnership.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Six months went by, and you were all the talk among the maids.

“The Princess and Prince still haven’t done it yet!” “Silly Vanir probably doesn’t know what she’s doing.” “Good thing Loki is the spare, because no heirs will be coming out of his vessel.” “Then let’s hope Thor is successfully in a match one day soon.”

You cried yourself to sleep nearly every night.

The few attempts you made to get to know your husband nearly always failed, although you did learn much about him. He would summon you like a Lady in Waiting to his library, asking you questions akin to ones for a job interview. Then, he would make a vain attempt to touch you, which you always shrunk back from. Most of the time, this would make Loki storm away angrily.

This was always the part where you felt your pussy twitch. Watching Loki angrily leave a room was kind of hot. Then you’d return to your apartments and furiously masturbate to get rid of the lust Loki left you with. It irritated you to no end that you somehow found your husband both repulsive, and incredibly attractive. Still, it wasn’t as if you could let him KNOW that. He clearly held no touch for you and was just fulfilling his duty to the throne. Hell, he probably had spent each of the past nights since your ceremony in bed with some whore scullery maid.

For your part, you decided to do the same and follow your own duty. One thing you had in common with the God of Mischief was your shared dedication to peace between your realms. Thus, you attempted to broker peace with Loki, and you rebuffed one another, as was the standard by now. Today was one of those days, and the pair of you followed your failed post-marital courtship ritual to a T.

“My bride, you know we will need to fuck eventually,” he said coldly to you, sitting in a large armchair and taking a sip of tea.

“How eloquently put to your wife,” you replied with the same indifference. “To have and to hold, indeed.”

“I mean it,” he continued. “I’m starting to get admonished by Father. It’s looking like Thor isn’t interested in a mate just yet, and Odin wants at least one grandchild.”

You sighed. “It’s not like you’ve been trying either. Is there any alternative at all?”

Loki looked at you with a face that almost hinted at hurt. “Alternative?”

You shrugged and set your own tea cup down on the table between you. “I think we both know by now that we can’t stand to look at each other fully-clothed. I can’t image the cringing if we got naked in front of one another. There won’t ever be a child from us.”

Loki pouted a moment, crossing his leg subtly. “Tell me, Princess Y/N,” he responded calmly, “What have I done to offend you so?”

What have I done? You thought to yourself. What have I--!??

“The audacity of you,” you found yourself spilling, your filters of propriety completely gone, “Clearly blaming me for our lack of chemistry when it was YOU who made it abundantly clear from the moment that we met that you had no interest in my happiness.”

Loki’s shoulders dropped, but even his silver tongue couldn’t get a word in.

“You are a cold, heartless lout,” you stood up, sending your head into a hot, dizzy haze. “You never tried to woo me, or to make me feel welcome in this strange new country that I was forced to come to and give my life to against my will. Did that never occur to you? Did it never once cross your mind that I NEED SOMEONE?”

You felt your body grow hot, but the hits kept coming as Loki watched you, a look of surprise and concern painted over his face.

“No, because you don’t care about anyone but yourself. You are a terrible man and an even worse husband. I’m thankful we will never have a baby together, because you’d be the worst father in the Nine Realms! You have no sense of nurturing, affection, or love for others. I hate you, Loki, for trapping me here only to shove me in a gilded closet and leaving me to rot in my complete loneliness!”

Loki stood up in response, looking more offended than ever. “You expect us, a pair in marriage out of obligation to the survival of our countries, to love one another?”

“I never asked you to love me. I just want to be treated like a person and a wife instead of an empty vessel for you to fill and ignore. Unfortunate for you, my husband and my love, you caught a bride who speaks for herself. I am a Vanir, and we are strong on our own terms. I’m not a simpering bitch like any of your past conquests.” You sneered and tried to remain dominant, even when looking at his harsh face. “Do you really find me so repulsive? Or are you just hiding a tiny, useless prick that you’re embarrassed to show me?”

Loki growled and sauntered up to you, leaving no room between your chests. You could feel his hot, agitated breath hit your neck, and you couldn’t help but look defiantly up into his eyes.

“You should have sent me home and married one of your mindless whores instead,” you snapped. “Then at least you’d get your stupid little heir and please your father.”

“How dare you suggest I am ill-equipped?” he whispered in your ear, causing you to tremble a little. “I am famous with my contemporaries for my skills in the bedchamber, and you will soon learn how hard I can fuck whoever I wish.”

You were beginning to get a headache, and your ears were buzzing with panic in spite of your heat starting to get wet with the tension building between you, like a storm cloud about to explode with rain and lightning.

“I’d rather shove a broomstick up within me,” you sneered through your increasingly uncomfortable symptoms. What was going on?

“Listen, Princess,” Loki spat out, taking a hand, slipping it under your chin, and tilting your head up to meet his gaze, your noses nearly touching. “Tonight, after supper, expect a knock on your door. I am going to end this situation once and for all, and you will conceive my child, I promise you, with the added bonus of knowing how well I pleasure my partner.”

“I…uh…oh…damn…” you began stuttering as the world began spinning around you. “Why is the room moving?” you mumbled.

“Y/N?” Loki asked, his voice softening at your symptoms becoming evident. “Are you feeling well?”

You could have sworn you felt a soft, sympathetic hand caress your cheek before the sensation of falling and entering darkness overwhelmed you, stealing your senses and taking you away from consciousness.

“Y/N? Can you hear me? Guards, I need help!” Loki’s genuinely frightened hollering was the last sound you heard.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

That night, you slipped in and out of consciousness as a fever raged.

One time when you were semi-awake (though no one seemed to notice your fluttering eyes) was when a healer was examining you. You could barely make out their poking, prodding, and touching. All you knew is that you were in a bed and tucked in, and that you had a raging headache, a sweating fever, and enough pain raging through you to stagger a horse.

“She’s from Vanaheim, remember, so her body isn’t yet used to the viruses we have here,” said the healer.

“Will she survive? Recover fully?” The low voice was Loki’s.

“It’s a pretty severe case, I’ll admit, my Prince,” the healer confessed. “She’ll need constant care for the next twelve-to-eighteen hours. If her fever breaks by then, she will be fine. If not, summon me. We may need to remove her from Asgard.”

“Remove? But I just married her,” Loki moaned.

“If you’ll pardon the honesty, Your Highness, it doesn’t really feel like you married her at all,” the healer suggested. “You still have separate apartments, and after all, I thought I would be examining her for signs of pregnancy by now.”

“You’re fortunate that your physician’s skills are the best in the realm, or I’d hang you myself for your comments!” Loki muttered.

“Apologies, Highness,” the healer quickly backtracked. “I’ll be back intermittently throughout the evening. Shall I summon her maids to watch her?”

“Those incompetent quims?” Loki scoffed. “Absolutely not. My wife would be dead within the hour if any of those silly birds were charged with her care.”

“I cannot stay, even for a Prince,” the healer replied. “Others do need my services.”

“Idiot, I’m staying at her side myself,” Loki declared, going over to his bed and perching himself on the edge besides your still body.

“Very well,” agreed the healer. “As I said, summon me if things change for the worse, my Prince.”

You heard a door close nearby as the healer took their leave. You felt the sensation of a cool cloth being pressed to your cheek, and you were able to let out a small sigh of relief before falling under again.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Loki was true to his word. He never left your side for the entire night, and the day that followed. You fever increased some time after midnight, throwing you into a delirium while your husband watched, gently pressing cold towels to your face, and intermittently reading out loud to you in the hopes that you’d come to.

Choosing a fantasy book from his youth to read to you, Loki found himself getting in to the performance after a while. “For when the Goddess Idunn saw her beloved Tree of the Golden Apples, they were gone…”

“Husband…Loki…” you mumbled in your delirium.

Loki stopped reading and bent down to hear you better. “My Princess?”

“Just…just touch me once…want you…”

Loki felt his heart skip a beat, watching your beautiful form lying like Sleeping Beauty across his bed, which was stunning in spite of your illness. He wondered if he whispered in your ear how he’d truly felt towards you for the past half year, it would count as admitting his secret love, and he wouldn’t have to do it to your face later.

Loki did, in fact, have wild feelings for you, and not a night went by that he didn’t go into his room after seeing you and fucking his hand until he uncontrollably shook. However, he was raised with a fearful sense of duty, and he felt that in treating this marriage like a simple task to fulfill at the office, he would serve his purpose better than were he a hopeless dope, blind with lust for you.

After all, it was an arranged marriage. What the hell did he know about relationships?

The people of Vanaheim were the only creatures in the realms said to be more beautiful than Asgardians, and the moment he’d seen you on your wedding day, he felt helpless, down for the count and drowning in your glow. Knowing, however, that he had certain expectations, he’d felt it would benefit the two of you to keep things ‘proper.’ He was a notorious pro at that.

He also wasn’t sure he wanted children so soon after marrying. It was bad enough that his lack of experience as a husband was leading to a terrible match, and everyone knew it. Half-heartedly leaving you pregnant would only complicate this already-complicated pairing. His roleplaying as a cold, uninterested spouse had helped keep his worries about that at bay.

“Loki…we can have a baby…”

Loki perked up, setting the book aside and gently ran a finger down your hot, red cheek. He leaned down and whispered in your ear. “You want a baby, dear?”

“Afraid…of…you…hate me…”

“No,” he cooed, brushing a lose tendril of hair that was plastered to your face with sweat up and tucking it behind your ear. “I see what’s happened,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “We are both misguided youths who have no idea how to be married.”

“Alone…always alone…”

“Never again will you be alone,” Loki promised, giving you a tender kiss on the cheek. “That should have been among my wedding vows. I have been treating you abysmally, Princess, and I will remedy that when you are well.”

Loki looked at you as your delirium sent you back into sleep. He took your hand between his and began singing an Asgardian lullaby that he’d been fond of from his childhood, the gentle melody just loud enough to reach your ear. His voice was certainly not as sweet or on-pitch as his mother’s, but he knew you heard it and liked it, for in your slumber, you smiled.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

You awoke the following afternoon, feeling nearly completely revitalized. Looking around you, the bed was unfamiliar, and as soon as you saw Loki sitting in a wooden chair by your bedside, a book open in his lap, his head in his hand, snoozing, and you felt your heart race.

Loki wasn’t the type to do anything to you in your sleep, was he?

“L…Loki?” you called out, your voice weak but steady.

Your husband immediately stirred, slowly coming to and sighing in what sounded like relief when he saw you starting to sit up. He put a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to lie back down. “Don’t get up. You’ve had a raging fever for nearly a day.”

“I feel fine,” you said stoically. “Let me sit up.”

“Very well, but you’re going to try and drink something if you do,” he answered. “I have some pomegranate juice on the table here.”

It was as if you fell asleep and woke up in an alternate timeline, where the Loki you married wasn’t a complete twat. He looked as if he’d been up all night at your side, his face was tired, his hair was unkempt and partially hung in his face. His face was the biggest difference. Instead of the usual neutral-to-annoyed look, he appeared to be concerned, almost fearful for your health. Taking a tall glass with deep red liquid, Loki pressed it into your hand.

“Drink. I mean it,” he said.

You pouted and shook your head. “Is it poisoned?” you quipped.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I suppose I earned that, but on my honor as a Prince of Asgard and son of Odin, it’s safe to drink.”

Looking at the glass for a moment, you decided to Take the risk. The tart liquid was cool and delicious, and you found yourself taking more than a sip. “There’s a good girl,” he said softly, taking the glass from you. “We can try some food later, if you’re feeling up to the task.”

“Loki, what is this?” you asked. “Why am I in your bed instead of mine? Where are the maids?”

Loki pursed his lips, considering the right and wrong words to say. “You were violently ill last night. I kept you here so I could nurse you myself. The maid are silly little gossips, I wouldn’t trust them to take care of a rosebush.”

“Why?” you asked. “You hate me.”

Loki sighed. “If I hated you, I would not have agreed to marry you.”

“You had no choice,” you replied.

“That isn’t true,” Loki confessed. “You were sent to me on the appointed day, yes, but Father promised me that if I refused you, he would acquiesce to allowing me to go to Vanaheim to find a bride for myself. You were the most sensible first choice, but when I first met you, you became the only choice for me.”

You weren’t sure what to do with this information. “But you didn’t even know my name, nor did you bother to ask. You were so underwhelmed by me.”

“Let me admit something personal to you, and seeing as you are my life partner now, I suppose it’s only right that I get used to doing so,” he began, then paused, waiting for your consent to continue. You silently gave it. “I feared our wedding day very much. I never saw myself entering a forced marriage with anyone, and seeing you standing there, your radiant beauty shining across the room…it stirred me the way I used to be aroused by the scullery maids who would flirt with me in the hopes that I’d let them visit my bed.”

“Aroused? You were aroused when we met? Even when you spoke two words in my general direction then turned away?”

Loki nodded. “You are stunning, Y/N. I turned myself off around you because I thought you resented me for being the reason you were brought over in the first place. I didn’t want to expose myself as a weak person and a moody, emotional husband so as to scare you even further.”

You knew in a heartbeat that you were not being lied to, and that Loki was exposing himself to you in this moment, making himself vulnerable to you.

“Feelings aren’t really your first language, are they?” you asked.

Loki nodded. “No. Comes with the whole ‘Prince of the Realm’ thing, unfortunately. You should see Thor try to explain away when he sobs watching a play.”

You remained quiet a moment, choosing to take another sip of juice, which pleased your spouse. “So, you’re saying that you were so afraid of falling in love with your wife that you left me a virgin bride for six months, confused and alone, wondering if I may as well try and run away back to Vanaheim?”

Loki found himself smiling, but trying to hide it. “It does sound ridiculous, now that I think about it.”

“It’s tragic, because those are now six wasted months. Just think of what we could have been doing this whole time,” you mused.

Loki cocked his head to the side inquisitively. “Wasted months?”

“Loki, while your incredibly misguided attitude didn’t help our relationship, you have no idea how sexy I find you, do you?”

He sat up straighter in his chair. “Do you now? Can’t say that should surprise me!” You giggled, and the laughter made him smile wider. “Your laugh…it’s musical.”

“Thank you, husband of mine. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard it since we married!”

Loki replied with a chuckle of his own.

“I want to love you, Loki,” you confessed. “I want to be your best friend, the mother of your children, and your lifelong companion…if you’ll have me.”

Loki got up from his chair to sit next to you on the bed. You leaned back against your pillow and fluttered your eyelashes, reaching out a hand to Loki, bidding him to kiss you.

“I want to love you as well, my princess bride,” he answered, leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “And so, I shall.”

“You missed,” you quickly added, pulling on the collar of Loki’s tunic and pulling his lips down to yours. You wouldn’t let him come up for breath, thrusting your tongue desperately into his mouth. However, Loki was stronger than you, so he pulled back after a moment.

“Not now, love,” he whispered. “You’re still recovering. I will exhaust you.”

“Loki, listen to me,” you began. “I feel fine. I’ve been a virgin for six months longer than I expected to be, while having to look at your beautiful form every day, knowing that you didn’t want my body. You just told me that you do want my body, and I want yours. Can we not put this off any longer?”

Loki’s lip twitched. “Ah yes, I almost forgot you’ve yet to know carnal pleasure. Such a desperate virgin!”

You shrugged. “The males of Vanaheim are boys, really. I never had any interest before, but after years of the sexual energy building up inside…it’s ready to happen.”

“So, I will be your first.”

“And only,” you added, running a hand along Loki’s cheek and pulling his face in for another kiss. Loki responded in kind, and his cool hand felt incredible against your cheeks, still a little hot from the receding illness.

“Tell me, my bride, are you nervous?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Especially seeing as it’s you. With your reputation, I’m not even sure you know how to bed a first-timer.”

Loki nodded. “I suppose that’s fair. My reputation precedes me. But I assure you, I can be a tender lover. I want you to tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

“Yes, Loki,” you purred.

“Oh, Y/N, please use my name again!”

“Loki, my husband…”

Loki let his vessel fall over top of yours, his lips meeting your mouth again, his hands beginning to wander about your neck and upper body. You almost immediately lost yourself in his arms, letting him dictate your pace and feeling the beginnings of arousal between your legs as his hands slipped under your shirt, finding your breasts and gently beginning to flick at your buds there. The little twinges were enough to send you into a fit of need, and you let your lower back slip under the covers, taking you from sitting against the headboard, to sliding directly underneath Loki’s body, lying supine under him.

“Are you that ready?” he asked. “I’ve barely begun!”

His wandering hands were firm, and every inch of flesh they touched brought sensations to you that you had never known, but were nothing short of astounding.

“Would you like me to talk you through this? Would it set you at ease?” Loki asked. “It helps you relax, and relaxing will make it feel better.”

“No, I don’t want that,” you whispered. “Feel me, I think I’m already ahead of you…”

You took his right hand and guided it downward, sitting his fingers against your clit, using your index finger to lead his in a thorough investigation of your folds. You were already soaked with arousal, and as soon as Loki felt it too, he grinned.

“Norns, Y/N, you’re already ready for my cock, how fair is that to me?” Loki sighed, keeping his hand where it was, but beginning to ever-so-lightly trace circles around your opening, sending you into a frenzy of need. “I was going to play with your pussy for hours first, to make up for those lost months…”

He lightly touched your shoulder, and your clothes melted away to nothing, and your naked body was pinned underneath him. “By the eyes of Freyja, you are a goddess to look upon!”

With a snap of his fingers, Loki’s own clothes faded away, and you were finally looking at your husband in the buff.

“In all the Nine Realms, I could never imagine a stud such as you would be having me,” you mumbled poetically, inspired by his warm, naked flesh pressed against your tits.

“Y/N, did you mean what you said about being the mother of my heirs?” he asked.

“Oh yes, my husband,” you groaned as Loki continued to grind against your crotch, his hardness pressing on your heat, but not going beyond the outer lips. Each thrust drew a moan from you, and each time you made a sound, it only seemed to add to Loki’s vigor. “I am ready to be filled by you. Please go inside me!”

Loki grinned with desire. “Good girl, but we’re not there yet. I want to tell you about what you have to look forward to first. You’re going to listen to me while I sit on your hips and tell you about how much I’m going to cum inside you, and how much you’re going to love breeding my children.”

You felt a low, steady moan escape your lips. Loki uttered a gentle “shh” and placed a single finger with his free hand on your lips. “I know you want me, princess, but you’re going to have to wait until I finish my speech before we make a baby, okay?”

You nodded meekly under his finger.

“Good girl.”

Without warning, he pushed two fingers against your clit, sending throbs of pleasure up your passage, and you had to bite your lip in order to stifle all of the sounds you wanted to make.

“My pet, you have no idea what you’re in store for. I’m about to fill you full of my seed, which you will take into you and use to spin our children into existence. You’ll cry out for me in ecstasy as your walls milk me for every drop of hot cum, and after I am through filling you to the brim, it will only be a matter of time before the life begins to take hold in your body, and you’ll begin to grow. How eager I am to watch your breasts grow heavy and drip with milk for our future little princess or prince to drink!”

Still fighting your urge to cry out your lover’s name, instead you let Loki’s passionate words crash over you like a wave, and you finally felt you relax your walls, ready to receive his cock.

“Norns, I can already see your belly round as you walk at my side through the halls, every man with an eye for the female form losing control at the sight of you, but knowing that you are mine and mine alone, and that I put our baby inside you. They will sigh with jealousy as we walk by, watching your tits bounce underneath your robes. They will know that I’ve fucked you, my princess, over and over.”

Loki’s cock teased your cunt more and more, and you were being to ache with desperation, your passage feeling hollow, longing to be filled with either Loki’s dick, or his fingers, which were still fiddling with your clit and sending lighting up your core.

“And after you bring our firstborn into the world, I will be ready to impregnate you all over again. We will have such a large family, our children running everywhere…but always one growing inside of you: a testament to how much I’ve claimed your pussy…”

“Breed me, Loki! I’m ready!” you finally cried out.

Loki took his fingers away from your folds and lowered his hips, the tip of his member on the threshold of your dripping cunt, driving your senses into needy, pathetic desire as you tried to thrust against Loki’s hips enough to coax it inside.

“You’re ready to take my cock, pet?” Loki whispered, looking down at you with both authority and need. “You’re a needy little virgin princess about to get her first fucking…I wish I could savor this for days.”

“No, now…please, I need to feel you inside me…”

Loki nodded, taking a breast in each hand and using both thumbs to pay with your tender nipples. “Then, my lustful, beautiful bride, I am yours.”

Slowly, Loki guided his cock into your opening. You felt a pinch and some pressure, but you were so flooded with arousal that it slipped in with relative ease, causing your walls to stretch to fit his shaft. You grunted as Loki buried himself to the hilt within you, and he remained still a moment. “Have I hurt you?” he asked.

You quickly shook your head. “Don’t stop! Breed me, please!”

Loki replied, “Yes, my princess!”

With each thrust, you saw stars as heat rippled up your core and began building in your hips and back like water being dammed in a river, eager for release. His rhythm picked up tempo, and the heat kept rolling down your abdomen. Loki’s own moaned joined yours, no longer caring about being quiet.

“Do you want my baby now?” Loki grunted.

“I want your baby, Loki, my husband!” you answered.

Loki’s thrusts became harder and more violent, and you were starting to feel a little more pain as he built towards a climax with you. “Oh, cum for my, my wife,” Loki purred. “Together…”

Your orgasm thundered down your pussy, throbbing waves of pleasure, and sending tremors down your legs. You moaned so loudly that it sent Loki to his fall, his cock pounding hard, sliding up and down your slick walls and spurting hot, dripping cum up and inside you. You could feel it when he poured his seed.

While lingering within you, Loki bent over your body, smoothly running his hands up your abdomen, breasts, and neck before giving you the deepest, most intensely passionate kiss of your life. It was the kind of kiss that had to have love behind it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, lowering his sweating frame on top of yours and nesting his chin between your breasts.

“Like a wife,” you replied, taking a hand and running your fingers through his soft, long black hair. “Loki, that was…I mean…I couldn’t imagine any better.”

Loki looked at you warmly. “You’re welcome.” Looking up at the ceiling while stroking his hair, you felt peaceful, and, for the first time since arriving in Asgard, not alone.

“Do you think we did it?” you asked.

“It would be hard to say for a few weeks,” said Loki. “But wouldn’t it be wonderful if we made a baby on the first go?”

“We waited for this long enough,” you added. “At least those silly maids won’t be able to gossip about me anymore!”

#MCU #MCU Asgard #MCU Loki #MCU Thor #MCU Fanfiction #MCU Loki fanfiction #Loki odinson #Loki fanfiction #Loki wedding fanfiction #Loki x reader #enemies to lovers #loki/reader

662 notes · View notes

sylkishagsuperiority · 1 year

Text

The hate on Sylvie boils down to 3 main reasons:

1) people hate her because she’s Loki’s love interest and in their weird possessive relationship over his character they CANNOT get over that (cue incest, selfcest, and “Sylvie is abusive” arguments)

2) people hate her because she got in the way of their m/m ship that the creators never intended to portray romantically in the first place and that has always had a less than 0 chance of happening because it’s Marvel (cue same set of arguments as above)

3) people hate her because she killed HWR and effectively started a new Multiversal war

I don’t even know where to start with that last one.

Yes, she started a war. But HWR was literally committing genocide 24/7. He had an organization of brainwashed people who literally murdered trillions on his behalf ALL THE TIME. Every time a single person steeped out of line, an entire timeline was erased. An entire universe with all the people in it. Just because it was happening quietly doesn’t make it any less fucked - and it definitely doesn’t make it better than a war. A war will have casualties, yes, but a war can also be ended. What HWR was doing was endless.

Another thing that people don’t seem to consider is that HWR is a master manipulator who did the fucking most to antagonize Sylvie from the moment she stepped into the Citadel. Admitting he manipulated her entire existence (“I paved the road, you two just walked down it”), sowing distrust between her and Loki (“you think you can trust this guy?”), yelling at her, telling her she’s a murderer like him (which is laughable, he was killing TRILLIONS)… He WANTED to make her as angry and unwilling to consider his offer as possible. Even Miss Minutes telling Loki he can get all the power he wants was IMO designed to make Sylvie think he might still be craving a throne, further destroying their trust.

Now, why would HWR rile Sylvie up so badly if he genuinely wanted her to consider his offer of taking over guarding the Sacred Timeline?

Because he never wanted her to choose that option. He wanted her to kill him. Whether it was because he was tired of living but didn’t have the courage to end things himself, or because he has a larger plan (sending Ravonna away on a mystery mission seems to point to the latter), Sylvie only did what he wanted her to do. He used her to the last.

Also, at the time, he was arguably the most powerful person in existence. If he didn’t want her to kill him, I highly doubt she would’ve gotten the chance to. He was only “defenseless” because he wanted to be.

Sylvie was just a pawn.

#sylki #pro sylki #loki series #pro loki series #loki (marvel)#sylvie (marvel)#marvel #loki x sylvie

132 notes · View notes

little-blurry-stars5 · 5 months

Text

So I realized I never made an intro lmao so here it is :3

!! be careful !! at the end of this post, there are moving images, flashing lights, ect. be careful if any of these would effect you in any way !!

U can call me blurry or jett (jett preferred) and I go by they/them/ theirs pronouns, + pretty much any neo pronouns (please do ask b4 using which ones tho :3) !!

I am a minor, don't be weird

My fandoms are bungo stray dogs, Percy Jackson, ramshackle, good omens, helluva boss, hazbin hotel, hunger games, jjk, seraph of the end, fnaf, the magisterium, Harry Potter (fuck jkr), wings of fire, kotlc, legendborn, miraculous ladybug, Loki, heartstopper, skyborn, nimona, ATSV, shera, voltron and more

my intrests/hobbies/likes are drawing, painting, creating stuff, running, reading, writing, going places, alternative clothes/style, listening to music, my headphones, the rain, the dark, drawing on shoes, dragons, fanfiction, sowing, cosplays, hanging out with friends, my boots, taxidermy, and more :33

I usually post abt these things n the occasional shitpost

I'm mostly involved in BSD, however there are a buncha other stuff I reblog from daily (also please note the fandoms listed are ones I'm in in general, some of them I'm not active in)

I also do a lot of art !!! i post it sometimes so check it out if ud like :3 (i need to make a personalized art tag, 😔 but for now its under my usual tag). I also take requests, so don't be afraid to stop by my askbox !!!

DNI if u support misogyny, sexism, racism, islamphobia, homophobia, transphobia, terfs, and anything that doesn't treat all humans equal

My dms and askbox are always open to anyone who wants to say hi !! I love meeting new ppl and making new friends, so don't be afraid to say hello ‼️‼️ :3

my personalized tag is "jett posts" for posts made by me

My most amazing wonderful awesome people to ever grace this earth mutuals r @taluvi-does-stupid-things (ty sm for taking care of me, ur the best!!) @castledmequeen (i love or phycological convos, ur so fun 2 talk to) @nervoustoastthing (my second ever moot, love u <333) and @returnofthecabbageman (ilysm evie ur blog is so comforting <333) and more !!!!!!!!

Sorry it's so boring 😔 but yeah I think that's it. Welcome to my blog! <3

#pinned intro #intro post #jett posts #blinkies

43 notes · View notes

faewitchsdeities · 1 year

Text

𝕷𝖔𝖐𝖎

(𝙻𝚘𝚔𝚒) ʷʰʸ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ↑ ₒ ₋ ₒ

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊(𝖘): Lokee, Luki, Logi, Lukkanet, Locke sprindlar

𝕲𝖔𝖉 𝖔𝖋: Trickery, Mischief, Cunning, and Seduction

𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖆𝖞(𝖘): April fools, July 23rd, Autumn equinox, Loki's Blot, Samhain, Yule, Thursday

𝕽𝖊𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘: Son of Farbauti and Laufey, mother of Sleipnir, father of Hel, Jormungandr, and Fenrir, as well as Narfi. PACT BROTHER WITH ODIN. (Not Thor -.-) , Husband to Sigyn and lover to Angrboda

𝕰𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖊𝖘: Heimdall, (arguably the other Aesir)

𝕾𝖞𝖒𝖇𝖔��𝖎𝖘𝖒-

𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖑(𝖘): snakes, foxes, wolves, coyote, ravens/crows, horses, goats, flies, spider, ant, seal, salmon

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗: Double snake symbol (Urnes), knots, chaos star, hearts, figure 8s, Naglfar, Loki's mask, fishing nets, lightning, earthquakes, the numbers 0, 1, 3, &8, shackles

𝕮𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖗(𝖘): red, orange, purple, violet, indigo, black, green, gold

𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙: Fire and Air

𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖙: Pluto, Saturn, Uranus, Dark moon/waning moon

𝖅𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈𝖘: Aries

𝕾𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖆𝖗 𝕲𝖔𝖉𝖘: Hermes, Lugh

𝕺𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘- Singing, dancing, helping minorities and children

𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖇𝖘/𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘: aconite amber resin bentgrass birch burdock root cedar cinnamon clove clover dandelion dragon's blood ebony elder hemlock hemp/weed holly ivy juniper lavender mandrake root mistletoe moss myrrh patchouli rue tobacco

𝕱𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖘: Anything sweet- candies chocolates coffee fruits pastries soda/juice drinks sugar etc.. - as well as red foods- cherries cranberries peppers pomegranate strawberries tomatoes etc..

𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘/𝖈𝖗𝖞𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘/𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖘: acrylic amber bronze clear quartz coins and other cheap random metals diamond fire opal fools gold galena garnet glass gold gold stones grenade lead magnesium obsidian onyx plastic red jasper rutilated quartz silver

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗: Incense, shiny things, plastic and stuffed toys, found/cheap things preferred, bunny, snake, fox, and raven imagery, art and poetry, knots, hearts, fishnets, lightning imagery,

𝕴𝖓𝖛𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖚𝖘𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐: Aids in spells with getting through tough, tight, and narrow situations, owning up to your shit, mischief, cunning plans, change, cleverness, creativity, youthfulness and beauty, seduction, androgyny, blessing and sharpening a blade or knife.

𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊: Tall with a slim/cut muscular body type. Long pretty red hair, green/violet/gold eyes, a masculine yet feminine face and a sharp jaw, said to be one of the most beautiful Jotunn.

𝕷𝖔𝖗𝖊/𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘: ~A cunning trickster who had the ability to change his shape and sex, the creator of lightning, hearth fire, the spirit of life. In the beginning he was a beloved friend and honorary member of the Aesir, but toward the end he became an enemy.. Was/is a companion of Odin and Thor, helping them with his clever plans but sometimes causing them embarrassment and difficulties, though also being any enemy of sorts. Though his father was a Jotunn (a giant), his mother was considered a goddess, thus Loki is included among the Aesir.

-Once cut off Thor's wife's hair and was forced to replace it. He tricked dwarves into a wager for his head if they could deliver wonderful gifts the the gods (including the hair). They made a hammer for Thor, A great spear and a drop-near gold bracelet for Odin, A boat and a huge golden boar for Freyr, and of course new hair made of gold for Sif -Thor's wife. Loki then told the dwarves that the wager said that they could only take his head and that they could not damage his neck. They were enraged but Odin told them that they should have paid more attention when making a wager with the god of trickery. Though Loki was still punished by having his mouth sowed shut so he couldn't deceive for a long time.

-One day someone stole Thor's hammer and left a ransom note, later demanding Freya's hand in return for the hammer that protected both Asgard and Midgard. Loki had an idea though, -much to Thor's dismay- he dressed the thunder god as a bride and took advantage of the giant thief's poor sight. (Also disguising himself as a woman) He tricked the giant, successfully making him think that Thor was Freya. As they ate Thor let out his apatite and the giant said something about his bride having a big stomach. To avoid being caught Loki said that the "goddess" was just eager to consummate their marriage. Thor was furious and embarrassed. The giant got excited and foolishly set the hammer on the table next to Thor. The thunder god took his hammer back and smashed the giant's head, all while still wearing his pretty dress. The gods always had fun talking about the time when Thor dressed up in drag.

-One day a builder came to Asgard offering to make them a wall that they needed. He said he could do it in record time, but that he wanted Freya's hand in return. The gods were enraged by his audacity and said no but Loki convinced them to set a wager- he could have the goddess as his wife if he was able to do the impossible task in an impossible amount of time. The idea was that he would try his hardest but not be able to finish in time, therefore giving the gods a free wall that they could just finish the end of. But the builder had a strong and mystical horse that could lift and carry all the large pieces for him. As the builder got closer and closer to finishing with time still left, the other gods we nervous and angry with Loki- who told them he had a plan. He turned himself into a beautiful mare and seduced the builder's horse, running off to the woods with him, and rendering the builder unable to finish the wall. Enraged, the builder revealed himself as a Giant and was killed, his head smashed in by Thor's hammer. Loki returned much later with an eight legged colt; his son Sleipnir which he gifted to Odin when he got older and stronger- in exchange for the horse's origin to be kept secret.

-It's said that he gave humans lightning to warn them of Thor's loud thunder before it happens, because he knew it was frightening. The swift walker of the skies is the lightning running ahead of Thor's great thundering cart.

-Tricked Baldr's blind brother Hodr into throwing the one thing that would kill the god; mistletoe- right at his chest. He indirectly killed Frigg's son; one of the most beloved god's in all the Aesir. As his punishment his one of his sons turned and killed the other and he was tied to a stone in a cave, by his dead son's entrails- a snake coiled on a stalactite above his face, dripping venom down onto him. Though Loki's wife Sigyn sat by his side and held a bowl over his face to protect him, she had to move every once in a while to empty the bowl, allowing the poison to drip onto his face as he convulsed, causing the first earthquakes in Midgard. It is said that he was to break from his chains and aid in Ragnarock. Baldr's story goes on to describe the burning of his body in a funeral pyre on his ship, Nanna accompanying him. BUT in another version, the goddess Frigg persuaded the other gods to restore Balder to life. She repaid their obliging wizardry with kisses. (THIS IS WHERE THIS IS MY THEORY) if the second ending is true and Baldr is alive, I think that Odin would eventually release Loki under the guise that he either not cause Ragnarok or aid the Aesir instead of what was prophesized. [I haven't really thought that a deity was speaking directly to me until I read this story, it's like I saw it and it came at me all at once like a vision. Just thought I'd include it.])

#witch #witchy #witchcraft #norse witch #norse #norse gods #norse paganism #norse mythology #deities #loki deity #loki laufeyson #loki worship #Loki

235 notes · View notes