Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
You donβt have any Heechul smutsπππ why??
noonieeee i just have 1 smutty heechul request and i am still as shocked as u are right now lol i am working on it π΅βπ« tbh heechul gives sexy vibes, can't believe we donβt thirst often on him, but we will π
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
donghae: really lq photos of #candles #puppies #ironman, plus fantaken photos of #donghae and #eunhae with an added hipster filter
siwon: "Ephesians 2:8 For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God" #Repost from @biblegram with @repostapp
ryeowook: i just ate a grape! #ryeowook #superjunior #superjuniorryeowook #food #grapes #grape #wine #fruits #vintage #fashion #trendy #lol #random #80skids #hipster #me
kibum: 0 photos
kyuhyun: instagram savior black list: #members white list: #food #foodsupport #foodporn #kyuhyun
2025 and is almost accurate. except kyuhyun forgot his password before, now that antenna manages his ass then i think more pics are on his insta but yeah, accurate af π
request 1: hi could u write a leeteuk smut where its the reader first time and leeteuk is trying so hard to hold himself back from letting her see his boner?
request 2: hi can u write a leeteuk smut where the reader is a virgin wondering why leeteuk hasnt made a move in her? she discover him being hard and gives him the green light to be rough with her then. u can add any details u want!! if possible, could u make this 1k word long πππ havent really seen much leeteuk smut except from u!!!! no rush definitely
warnings: unprotected sex (u wrap it!!!), fingering, some mentions of masturbation, the usual smutty stuff.
[ i hope you like this anon. i think it got too sweet in the end haha hope is dirty enough π also each time i wrote this i was listening closer from the renaissance album so hence the title lmao ]
It was just a kiss, one night shared between you two.
Jeongsu came back home, you had a small date at his place, cooking together, laughing and enjoying each otherβs company with a beautiful dinner.
That was all it took for an innocent, sweet kiss to become more.
Once on the couch, sitting together, pressed against him, you leaned to peck his lips as a playful gesture, long forgotten was the movie playing on the TV, the noise filling the living room, but both of you were fully immersed in stealing kisses to each other.
With his hands, he softly caressed your hair, as you laid your head on his lap to pull him towards you, tasting his lips once again. You felt his shy smile as the kiss went on.
βI missed you so much,β you whispered, breathless. βI am glad you're back.β
Jungsu's lips curved, his dimple showing as you smiled back, biting your lip.
βIf I had to wait one more day to be with you, I think I might have gotten insane,β he confessed. βIt was a long trip.β
βWell, your tour is over now. I hope you made some time for me,β you said, placing a strand of his hair behind his ear, admiring his kind eyes.
He looked at you as if you were the only person on the planet for him. And he really showed it, taking good care of you, surprising you with small but carefully chosen gifts, cute moments together as long as you had the time. You just couldnβt get enough of this man. This dinner was your gift for him, a bright βthank you for everythingβ he welcomed in delight.
βI did, this is just the start,β he answered softly, kissing your cheek but getting back to the TV.
You tried to get back to the screen, when his fingers tangled on your scalp as you watched the movie. At least you tried, but something inside you was burning already.
His touch was intoxicating, the sweetness he had on him was just too good to be true, and you had wondered many times if he was just the same if you decided to go further. You had made up your mind about it and maybe you could walk him through it tonight.
You sat down by his side and he pulled you against his body, and you took the chance to softly place a trail of kisses on his neck. βAffectionate, are we?β Jeongsu chuckled as you continued, sticking more of your body into him like a purring cat. With your hand, you touched his neck, going up until you reached his cheek and pulled him toward you to taste his lips.
βI just love you so much,β you whispered between kisses.
If your goal was to make him forget about everything around, you had succeeded, he thought. Jeongsu's mind was focused on your touch and how your hand seemed to find his chest, now going down in the most painful way playing with the buttons of his shirt. He gasped between the kiss when your hand teased right on his crotch. But he quickly broke the kiss away, taking your hand on his.
βIs something wrong?β you asked.
The singer shifted on his seat on the couch, swallowing hard. He felt so embarrassed for a second at the growing sensation between his legs.
Both of you remained staring at each other: you, wishing to take this matter further now; your boyfriend, wishing you wouldnβt see his erection down there.
βI donβt want you toβ¦ see that,β he said. Jeongsu knew you had never had a sexual encounter before, so he decided to wait until you said so.
Sometimes you thought he waited too much.
βBut what if I want to?β you replied back, whispering in his ear. βI had thought about this so many times,β your hand was on his chest again, making its way down to the hem of his shirt. βI think I am ready for that.β
You felt him shiver at your words when you palmed his crotch.
βYou have no idea of how many times I have thought about it, but I am not sure how to bring it to youβ¦β
His voice came out husky, pressing your legs together at how hot he sounded. Your fingers massaged his groin through the fabric of his jeans.
βThen just do it, you have my permission.β
Jeongsu hesitated at first. He was really sweet, avoiding the subject every time because he didnβt think he deserved it. But his thoughts went away rethinking your words and he devoured your lips in a hungry, heated kiss. You tried, with your shaking fingers, to get into his pants, low whimpers leaving your mouth between kisses and the clash of your tongues. Jeongsu's hand went down to your legs, you moaned at his touch over your pants. He then broke the kiss and you gasped, yearning for more of him already.
βCan we take it to the bedroom?β he whispered. You gave a nod, already flushed and bothered and he walked you to his room.
To say he was sweet an understatement.
Jeongsu helped you out of your clothes slowly and carefully as soon as you laid on the white sheets of his bed. He gave reassuring words and whispered sweet nothings in the curve of your neck. His fingers brushed on your skin, caressing your chest and going lower and lower. The desire was building up in you already burning hot.
Clumsy you tried to unbutton his shirt but it was useless. He pressed butterfly kisses on your breasts, a trail to get to the sensitive skin on your stomach. Your heart was beating so hard at the new sensations and you could feel the wetness between your legs.
Jeongsu stopped right before your panties and started undressing himself for you. Inside you were thankful for it. You didnβt know what to do next.
βI will guide you from now on,β he whispered. βDo you trust me?β
Swallowing hard and unable to speak, you gave a nod. βYes.β
βWhatever it is, if you feel uncomfortable just tell me,β he whispered before kissing you again.
This time it was eager and you tasted the hunger in it. Caressing his skin, you gave into the moment. Jeongsu pressed his crotch against your core, your hips grinding in unison. The only thing in between the fabric of your underwear, wishing he just got rid of his own too.
The feeling was overwhelming. You had imagined this countless times, thinking about those erotic stories and books you used to read and that Jeongsu used to tease you about a few times too. It was just far better in the flesh. You felt his hand on top of your panties and gasped as he pulled your panties down gently. You felt wet already, two of his fingers working you up rubbing your clit and folds. Low moans escaped your lips when he stretched you open with a single finger. It felt too good. It was a different kind of pleasure from your own, when you had tried to experience those sensations alone in your room at midnight, fantasizing how it would be.
Your hips grinded on their own, his kisses on the skin of your neck increasing your arousal even more. Jeungsu went down to kiss your chest, giving each breast a small lick, teasing your sensitive nipples. Your hands held onto his arms when a burning sensation hit you like lightning between moans, your breath hitching. And just like that, you came in his arms. So pretty, so aroused and bothered. His cock hardened even more at the sweet sight as he pulled his fingers out of you.
βWow, that wasβ¦ That was wildβ¦β you panted.
Your boyfriend chuckled. βAre you feeling tired?β
βA little,β your hand cupped his cheek as he leaned down to kiss your lips. It was so addictive, you thought. Everything from him pulled you like a magnet and you wanted to keep going. βBut please, I need more,β you almost begged when you broke the kiss.
Jeungsu kept his doubts, you could see that in his eyes.
βPlease, I wonβt break,β you insisted, tangling your fingers in his hair. βI trust you, and also I can feel you down thereβ¦β
With these last words, you thrust your hips in the air. He gasped but remained silent.
βJeungsu, I promise to tell you if something is wrong.β
βWill you?β
βAbsolutely.β
That was all he needed again to give up. He kissed you quickly again, rough and desperate, and pulled down his boxers before tossing them away just to go back to you, finding the perfect position between your legs.
His big hands wandered your body as he pressed against your core, rubbing the wet head of his cock on your folds before burying himself inside as slow as he could. Jeungsu was holding back so much that he was really scared of hurting you. He made sure to keep asking if you were okay at all times. Your small nods and whimpers confirmed to him you were just blissed out until you felt full. The feeling of your tight walls around him was heaven, you clinged into him getting adjusted to his size. Definitely it was nothing like your own fingersβ¦
βMove,β you ordered and his hips followed.
He started with slow movements, his hands complementing the pleasure on the sensitive skin of your breasts earning your sweet sounds. And as the minutes went by, his pace increased, your legs wrapped around him to feel him deeper. There were some particular thrusts, he hit repeatedly a specific place inside you that you never felt before and this made you cling to him even more.
There were low groans and moans coming from his lips, filling the bedroom. Both of your sweaty forms pulled against each other. One of his hands brushed your cheek, moving down to your lips. His thumb traced patterns on your hot, open mouth, your plump lips swollen from all the work and arousal. You looked so angelical, so pretty under him, he just wanted to keep you like this forever.
βFuck,β he hissed, your walls clenching around him.
βMore, deeperβ you gasped, he obeyed. His thrusts increased, hitting all the right places. βFuck, more!β you whined, squirming under his figure.
βAre you-β
βFuck me!β
You were too close to heaven. Jeongsu's fast pace now finally led you there. You came so hard around his dick you dug your nails into his back. His pulsating cock split you open until he emptied himself with a groan, hiding his face on your shoulder until his thrusts got slower. After some silent minutes Jeungsu pulled out slowly and fell by your side.
βSo how do you feel?β he asked.
You chuckled out of breath. βMy legs are shaking, but it was so good.β
Jeungsu smiled at you, showing his dimple you loved so much, you pressed against him, your leg tangling over his.
βDo you need anything?β
βNot yet, just let me rest for five minutes,β you answered while closing your eyes with a curve on your lips. βNext time I will take care of you,β you continued and he took your hand to plant a kiss on your knuckles.
πππ π¬ / ππ° β nsfw (18+), sexual themes, explicit sexual content MDNI, Praise kink, light degradation, hair pulling, mild dominance/submission themes, arranged marriage, political manipulation, heavy yearning, angst
word count: 14k
Summary: You were Earthβs finest diplomatβsharp, composed, loyal to the cause of peace. When war threatened the realms, the Council asked the unthinkable: marry one of Asgardβs princes to solidify the alliance.
Thor is everything a ruler should beβhonorable, loyal, safe.
Loki is none of those things. And yet, he sees you. He undoes you.
Duty demands you choose the golden son. But desire, ache, and loveβthe dangerous kindβpull you toward the prince raised in shadow.
notes β not proofread. Lowkey inspired by one too many watches of Bridgerton season 2
β reblogs comments & likes are appreciated
Youβd forgotten how cold Asgardian air could be. Not in temperature, but in weight.
The kind that settled in your bonesβnot from climate, but from presence. From expectation. From legacy. The golden spires still caught the light just so, gleaming like myth made solid, and the air was crisp with early springβfloral, clean, laced with something metallic that always reminded you of power. Of magic. Of danger, if you were honest.
But beneath all that shimmer, there was stillness. Too much of it.
You stepped through the bifrost portal alone, shoulders squared in your diplomatic cloak, boots steady on the polished stone landing. The delegation waiting for you was a clean line of symmetryβAsgardian guards in ceremonial armor, shining like carved statues. They didnβt move. Didnβt blink. Asgard was always excellent at pretending it wasnβt watching.
From behind them emerged Thor.
He was already smiling, broad and open. Familiar. The golden warmth of him cracked through the formal tension, just enough to let you exhale.
βStill dramatic, I see,β you called out, unable to stop the smirk tugging at your mouth.
He laughed, deep and honest. βOnly for you.β
He reached you in a few strides, pulling you into a firm, bracing hug. You let him. He was always solid. Always anchoring. Thor smelled faintly of cedar and mead and sun-warmed stoneβlike something enduring. Something safe.
When he pulled back, his eyes swept over you, checking. Not for threat, but wear. It was a habit of hisβquiet concern.
βYou look well,β he said. βTired. But well.β
You gave him a look. βDonβt insult me in the first minute, Odinson.β
βWouldnβt dream of it,β he said, grinning wider. βCome. The council has postponed their meeting until tomorrow.β
βHow generous of them.β
βI insisted,β he said lightly. βToday, you breathe.β
You arched a brow. βBreathing. In Asgard. Is that allowed?β
Thorβs smile dimmed, just slightly. βWe try.β
He didnβt offer his arm, but walked beside you with casual ease, guiding you toward the palace. You both knew the way. This wasnβt your first time crossing these polished halls, though it felt different now. Heavier.
The rebuilding was almost complete, you noticed. New towers soared where ash once settled. The courtyards were pristine, the banners freshly woven. Everything gleamed.
It was beautiful. And it felt wrong. Too perfect. Too untouched. Like the real scars had been buried beneath gold leaf and light.
And still, you felt itβthat ripple under your skin. Not nerves. Not fear. Something more primal. The hairs at the nape of your neck lifted, and your breath came just a little too shallow.
You didnβt see him. But you felt him. Not yet. Not fully. But something inside you whispered he was near.
Thor brought you to your quarters himself. High ceilinged. Opulent. The kind of place designed to impress royalty and diplomats alike. Your luggage had already been delivered, arranged with eerie precision. The fire was lit. The windows were open.
You nodded your thanks, declining the wine he offered. He left with a squeeze to your shoulder and a soft βIβm glad youβre here.β You didnβt answer. You werenβt sure what you would have said.
You were unstrapping your boots when it happened.
A prickle. A shift. The subtle, unnatural silence of someone watching. The kind of silence that doesnβt belong in a room you thought was empty.
You didnβt hear the door. But you knew. You straightened slowly, pulse already ticking upward, and turned before he could speak.
βYou didnβt announce yourself,β you said.
Loki stood framed in your doorway, one shoulder leaning lazily against the wood, arms crossed over his chest like a bored cat. His coat was a rich, dark green over black; his hair was longer than you remembered, falling just past his jaw. Neatly swept back but loose at the edges, like he hadnβt bothered to restrain it completely.
His gaze was sharp. Not cruel. Justβ¦ direct. Unforgiving. βI didnβt think I needed to,β he said.
You held his stare. Neither of you blinked. βI didnβt expect to see you so soon,β you finally said.
Loki arched one dark brow. βAnd yet here you are.β
You didnβt reply. You didnβt need to. The weight of his gaze was enough to keep your pulse high, your spine taut. He looked you over onceβnot with hunger, not even with disdain. Justβ¦ attentively. Thoroughly.
And it made your mouth go dry.
He looked composed, but it was the brittle kind. The kind of calm you knew from earthquakesβmoments before they cracked the world open.
βYouβre not going to pretend to be civil, are you?β you asked, arms folding defensively.
βWhy would I waste your time?β he replied, stepping just far enough into the room to shift the air between you.
You hated how aware you were of him. Of the way he moved like he owned silence. Like he was never where he was by accident. βSome would call that a courtesy.β
βAnd you would see through it,β he said smoothly. βYou always have.β
The words landed softer than they should have. Less accusation. More observation.
Still, you bristled. βIs there something you need?β you asked, sharper than intended.
Loki tilted his head, expression unreadable. βI was curious.β
βAbout?β
He crossed the threshold then. Just one step, but it was enough to change the atmosphere entirely. βWhy you came back.β
You didnβt flinch. βBecause Earth still values diplomacy.β
βIs that what theyβre calling it?β His mouth curled at one corner. Not a smile. Something smaller. Meaner. βI thought perhaps you returned for Thor.β
The name landed heavier than expected. βThor is my friend,β you said coolly.
βOf course he is.β There was something weighty in his voice now. Not mocking. Just heavy.
You didnβt like it. You didnβt like how he saw you. Not the you you presented, polished and perfect. But the you beneath. The part you buried.
βIβm not here to spar with you,β you said, voice taut.
βNo,β he said. βYouβre here to play pretend.β
That one hit. And worseβyou didnβt argue.
He turned to leave without waiting for a reply. But just before the door clicked shut behind him, his voice reached you again.
Soft. Almost casual. βI didnβt expect you to return.β
Then he was gone.
And you were left aloneβwith your pulse still pounding, and the air in your lungs suddenly too warm.
-
Council meetings were always a performance. Scripted lines. Measured voices. Controlled smiles. Everyone playing their part in the theater of diplomacy. Youβd perfected itβsharp and clear, steady in tone, never too emotional, never too withholding. You were what Earth needed you to be. That was the job.
Today was no different. The high table of the Asgardian Council was polished to a blinding sheen, the carved edges of it etched with rune patterns older than your entire worldβs written history. Your notes were stacked neatly before you, translated into both languages, just in case someone felt inclined to test your preparedness.
You didnβt falter once. Not when the High Strategist misquoted a term youβd coined. Not when someone questioned the necessity of Midgardβs technology sharing protocols.
Not even when Loki entered the room. He didnβt announce himself. Of course he didnβt. He never needed to. He walked in like he belonged there, which technicallyβpoliticallyβhe didnβt. But no one stopped him. No one even addressed his presence.
He didnβt sit. He leaned against one of the gilded columns near the far wall, arms crossed, ankle slung lazily over the other. Watching. Not the council.
You.
At first, you thought you were imagining it. But every time you glanced up, every time you turned your head or made a point, your eyes found his. And his were already on you. Sharp. Steady. Borderline insolent.
You returned your focus to the table, refusing to give him the reaction he so clearly wanted. You could feel heat crawling up the back of your neck. It wasnβt embarrassment. Not exactly. It wasβ¦ exposure. Like he could see what no one else did.
You were fine with the scrutiny of politicians. You thrived in it. But Lokiβs stare didnβt feel political. It felt personal.
You kept your gaze forward as you passed a marked treaty across the table. Thor took it, offered a smile, and began flipping through the translated sections.
βI still donβt understand why Earth insists on calling them βhybrid innovations,ββ he muttered, brows furrowing.
βBecause they are,β you said, tapping the document with your pen. βTechnology integrated from two realmsβMidgardian theory, Asgardian energy structures.β
Thor tilted his head. βBut theyβre mostly yours.β
βWhich is why I get to name them.β He chuckled and passed the document back. Your fingers brushed. It was brief. Light. Friendly.
Then Loki moved. You didnβt look. You didnβt have to. Peripheral awareness of him had become a survival skill. He shifted his stance against the column, just enough for the long hem of his coat to catch the light. Then he strode to where you sat, and dropped himself into the empty seat next to you with a refined grace that only he could manage.
The council continued debating as you leaned to pass another folder across the table, and this time, you felt it: the weight of Lokiβs attention narrowing from where he sat beside you, his thigh brushing yours under the table.
You reached for a data pad beside your stack of notesβone Thor had gently nudged your wayβand as your fingers curled around it, another hand brushed yours.
Loki.
You didnβt jerk back. You didnβt flinch. But you stopped breathing. Just for a second. He hadnβt meant to touch youβprobably. It was too light. Too clean. But the moment your skin met his, something electric jumped between you.
And then it was gone. He let the datapad go and leaned back. You didnβt look up. But you saw it. The flex of his fingers as they fell back to his side.
Subtle. Thoughtless. Like he was trying to shake something off. Like touching you had⦠unsettled him.
Good, you thought. Let him be unsettled.
You adjusted the datapad, smoothing your hand over the top of it a little too long. Your palms were warm. You didnβt trust your voice.
The meeting resumed. You answered questions. Smiled at Thorβs dry humor. Declined mead with grace. But Loki didnβt leave the room. And he didnβt stop watching you. Not once. And for the first time in years, you were afraid your mask was slippingβjust enough for him to see the woman underneath it.
-
The library wasnβt listed on your itinerary, which was precisely why you chose it. Youβd been cornered by enough nobles over breakfast, suffocated by the stiffness of diplomatic greetings and well-meaning courtiers who asked nothing of value and offered even less. You needed quiet. Pages instead of politics. Somewhere the walls didnβt echo with obligation.
The Asgardian royal library was a long-forgotten marvel in its unused west wingβits vaulted ceilings ribbed with golden filigree, the scent of ancient ink and pressed leather lingering like incense. Few used it these days. Even fewer read the texts in their original language.
You traced your fingers along a nearby spine, one you recognized from years back during your first visit. The scrolls near the east alcove hadnβt moved. Not for centuries, you suspected. Which is why you heard him before you saw him.
A breath. A shift. Not in the air, but in energy. You turned slowly. Loki stood between two towering bookcases, arms folded, mouth already curled into something sharp.
βIf I didnβt know better,β he said, βIβd think you were hiding.β
You didnβt flinch. βIf I didnβt know better, Iβd think you followed me.β
He clicked his tongue once, softly, like scolding a child. βSo paranoid. Have you always assumed your presence demanded pursuit?β
βI donβt assume anything with you,β you said, lifting a brow. βI learn.β
βMm.β His eyes slid down, then back up, like he was taking your measureβcalculating something, or maybe just toying with you. βStill sharp. Iβll give you that.β
βForgive me if I donβt take that as a compliment. Coming from you, it sounds like a warning.β
βA compliment,β he said, stepping forward slowly, βand a warning can be the same thing. Depends on how dangerous you plan to be.β
βI donβt plan to be anything,β you said, voice clipped. βI just am.β
He stopped a few paces from you, tilted his head, smile deepening. βThereβs that Earth pride again.β
βNo,β you corrected, βjust honesty.β
Loki tsked softly. βDo you always twitch when you lie?β
The air snapped. You narrowed your eyes. βExcuse me?β
He shrugged, casual and infuriating. βThat muscle. Just beneath your jaw. Tenses when you say something you donβt quite believe.β
Your teeth clenched. You hoped he noticed. βAnd what is it,β you asked coolly, βthat you think I lied about?β
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. βThat youβre not planning anything.β
The air felt warmer suddenly, though the library remained as draftless as ever. Your pulse ticked upβnot because he was wrong. But because he was close.
βIβm a diplomat, not a schemer.β
Lokiβs smile was all teeth. βThose roles are not mutually exclusive.β
You turned, annoyed with yourself for allowing this much of your timeβyour energyβto be drawn toward him like a tether. You reached for a volume from the shelf without looking, pretending to search for something important. He moved beside you anyway, like a shadow made of silk and smoke.
βYou know,β he murmured, βmost people either fear me, or flatter me.β
You ran your finger down the bookβs spine. βAnd I do neither. Is that what bothers you?β
His voice lowered, quiet as sin. βNo. Thatβs what has always interested me.β
You turned your head just slightly, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. It was the closest youβd ever stood. βWhat do you want from me, Loki?β
He studied you for a beat. One long, pulsing silence. Then, casuallyβalmost flippantlyβ he said, βJust a little honesty.β
You snorted softly, turning back toward the books. βThen ask better questions.β
The moment stretched, charged but motionless. And then he laughed. Quiet. Surprised. Genuinely amused.
βCareful,β he said. βIf you keep this up, I may start enjoying your company.β
βGods forbid,β you muttered.
He hummed. βOh, donβt worry. Iβm sure weβll hate each other again by dinner.β
You didnβt reply. You were too aware of his nearness. Of the way he lingered, not quite touching, yet commanding your entire awareness.
When he finally moved awayβfootsteps silent despite his bootsβyou let your breath go.
But not before catching the faintest smile tugging at your lips.
-
Night came slowly in Asgard. The city glowed beneath twin moons, the sky streaked in soft rose-gold clouds, shadows stretching long and regal across the polished stone walkways. You watched the sun dip behind the mountains from the balcony just off the strategy chamber, the dayβs final light glinting off your datapad as you tucked it beneath your arm.
Thor was still inside, reviewing trade balances with an eagerness that was almost endearing. You doubted he enjoyed paperwork, but he was trying. He always did. You re-entered the chamber just as he let out a sigh and raked a hand through his hair.
βThis,β he muttered, tapping the holographic projection of a disputed border zone, βis not how I imagined diplomacy.β
βYou imagined it with more weapons, didnβt you?β
Thor glanced up and grinned. βFewer reports. More mead.β
You chuckled and set your pad on the table. βYouβre doing fine, you know.β
He gave a half-shrug, stepping back from the projection. βItβs not just about doing it. Itβs about doing it right. The realm needs more than a strong arm. It needs a spine.β
You tilted your head, studying him. βAnd you think thatβs not you?β
βI think,β he said slowly, βthat being a good king means listening to those who tell you the truth. Even when itβs difficult.β
You softened. βYouβve always listened, Thor. Thatβs your strength. Even when you donβt like what you hear, you hear it.β
He smiledβgentle, grateful. The kind of smile that made you feel at ease without asking for anything in return. It was easy with him. Comfortable. You could breathe around Thor. Always had.
You sat down beside him, the two of you reviewing another trade suggestion from Vanaheim. He hummed thoughtfully, asking the kind of questions that showed he cared. He listened to your responses with attention, offering none of the dismissiveness you so often got from other leaders.
And yetβ it didnβt burn. Thor was a hearth. Steady. Warm. But you knew the difference between warmth and fire.
The door opened behind you with a quiet push. You didnβt turn. Didnβt need to. You felt that thrum beneath your skin. Loki always moved like a rumor, like a secret that wanted to be caught. He never entered loudβbut somehow always owned the room. You looked upβand stopped breathing.
He was drenched. Not soaked through, but close. A sudden downpour, maybe, or a training mishap. His tunic clung to him like second skin, black fabric turned near-sheer where it stretched across his chest and shoulders. His coat hung open, water glinting from the hem.
He looked infuriated. And unfairly beautiful. You dragged your gaze back to the table. He strode past without a word, heading for a cabinet across the room to retrieve somethingβtowels, maybe, or dry gloves. You didnβt care. You werenβt watching.
But Thor was. He looked at you, then at his brother, then back to you againβand smirked, just faintly.
βWhat?β you asked, not looking up.
Thorβs voice was far too casual. βNothing.β
You narrowed your eyes. βHeβs not looking at me, is he?β
Thorβs smile grew. βDo you want the truth, or the polite lie?β
You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. βDonβt answer that.β
But Thor didnβt laugh. He watched you carefully now, his expression softening. βHe likes you,β he said quietly.
You shook your head. βHe doesnβt even like himself.β
βThat may be true,β Thor admitted. βBut I know my brother. And I know what he looks like when something has his attention.β
You didnβt respond. You couldnβt. Loki walked past againβbarely glancing at youβand disappeared down the hall. The air felt cooler when he was gone. You and Thor sat in silence for a long moment. Then you stood.
βI should rest,β you said.
Thor nodded, but his eyes held something heavy. Not judgment. Not jealousy. Justβ¦ understanding. βSleep well,β he said.
You turned to leave. But you felt the words clinging to you like rainwater: Heβs not looking at me, is he?
He had been. He was. And gods help youβ you wanted him to do it again.
-
The library was empty when you arrived. Not just quietβtruly empty. Even the scribes had left early, a rare solar flare drawing most of the palaceβs attention toward the observatory towers. You should have gone too, should have pretended you cared about celestial anomalies and readings and charts.
But the truth was simpler. You needed to think. Alone.
You were running your finger along the spine of a weathered volumeβDiplomacy Between Realms: Founding of the Ninefold Accordβwhen you felt it.
That pull. You didnβt hear footsteps. Loki never offered you such grace. But you knew the shape of his presence by nowβlike a shadow that anticipated your movement. A trick of light you couldnβt unsee.
βI imagine thereβs a less tedious way to fall asleep,β he said, voice warm and venomous behind you.
You didnβt turn. βI imagine thereβs a more productive way to stalk people,β you replied, flipping open the book.
He circled slowly into view. Leaned against the pillar across from you, arms crossed, green sleeves pushed up to the forearms. He was annoyingly relaxed. The kind of posture that said he had all the time in the worldβand none of it belonged to you.
βI wasnβt stalking,β he said. βI was browsing.β
βIn the restricted wing?β
His mouth twitched. You hated that you noticed. βI was curious what Earthβs most celebrated diplomat does when sheβs not charming councilmen and kneeling to protocol.β
You closed the book. βAnd what did you discover?β
βThat youβre even more obsessively thorough than I imagined.β
You exhaled through your nose. βCharmed, as always.β
He moved closerβslow, deliberate, until there was only the low reading table between you. His gaze skimmed over the stacks youβd already pulled, a mixture of ancient history and modern case law.
βMidgardian doctrine.β He picked up a volume, flipping idly through it. βThor once told me humans had short attention spans. I see youβve made it your personal mission to prove him wrong.β
You ignored him and returned to your seat. Your hands itched to busy themselves, so you sorted the stack of books in front of you. One volume teetered near the edge of the table. Loki caught it before you did.
He held it by the spine, index finger tracing the gold filigree. He didnβt hand it back right away.
Instead, he glanced at the cover and murmured the title under his breath, lips barely moving. Then he met your eyes.
βStudying negotiations between warring realms?β he asked. βPlanning something?β
You reached out to take the book. He didnβt pull away. His fingers brushed yours. You froze. So did he. The contact was briefβbare skin on skin, the slope of his knuckle catching the edge of your palmβbut it might as well have been a live current. Your pulse jumped. His eyes flicked down, just for a breath, to where your hands touched. Then up. His mouth curled, but the smile didnβt quite settle.
βYouβre staring,β you said.
βSo are you.β
You snatched the book backβnot roughly, but firm. Too firm. He watched you a moment longer, something unreadable flickering across his face. And then, quieter than before, he spoke. βYou know, if you keep stealing glances at me like that, people might start talking.β
You raised an eyebrow. βLet them.β You leaned in, just slightly. βBut if theyβre going to misinterpret diplomacy as desire, thatβs their problem, not mine.β
βGood. Now maybe youβll stop mistaking discipline for disinterest.β
He grinned, slow and dangerous. βThat sounds like an invitation,β he said.
Your breath hitched. βThat was a warning.β
He leaned forward, elbows braced on the edge of the table, voice low and coaxing. βTheyβre often the same thing. Depends on what you do with them.β
The space between you tightened like a drawstring. Too intimate for the setting. Too charged for your comfort. You closed the book againβfirmlyβand stood. βIβll let you get back toβ¦ loitering.β
Loki didnβt move as you brushed past. But his voice followed you. βNext time, pick a better hiding spot,β he murmured. βI might not be feeling as generous.β
You didnβt look back. Not even when you felt his eyes on you as you left the room. But later, in the privacy of your quarters, youβd open that book againβand your fingers would still remember the warmth of his touch.
-
The council chamber was too warm. Not in temperatureβAsgard never allowed discomfort to mar appearancesβbut in pressure. In scrutiny. In expectation.
You sat straight-backed in your chair, hands clasped loosely in your lap. Beside you: Thor, poised and solemn. Across from you: the High Envoy and six advisors, each cloaked in ceremonial gold. To your left, near the archway, stood Lokiβsilent, unreadable, a shadow pressed into polished marble.
He hadnβt spoken since you arrived. You kept your eyes forward. The High Envoy cleared his throat. βAsgard finds itself in a moment of delicate transition,β he began, every word smooth as polished stone. βFollowing the realignment of realms after the Rift, tensions remain. Fragile alliances. Suspicious neighbors. The question of successionβunresolved.β
You nodded once. Youβd read the same analysis a dozen times in half a dozen languages. It was why youβd buried yourself in treaties and war chronologies these past weeks. Why your dreams bled with maps and military supply chains.
βThe people seek reassurance,β he continued. βStability. A symbol.β There it was. A symbol. Not strategy. Not strength. Just optics.
The envoy turned his gaze to you fully now. βYour presence here has not gone unnoticed. Earthβs ambassador. Its most trusted envoy. A leader in your own right. You command respect across the Nine Realms.β You didnβt flinch. You didnβt smile. You waited. βThat is why we believe,β he said, folding his hands, βa union between our peoples would be both powerful and prudent.β
βAnd who exactly am I meant to unite with?β you asked.
The envoy gestured lightly to either side. βWith the royal family, of course. One of the princes.β
Your jaw tensed. Loki didnβt move. Thor exhaled softly. βWe do not presume to dictate the match,β the envoy added smoothly. βBoth are members of the royal family. Both offer strength in different forms.β
Another councilor spoke nextβolder, with a pinched expression. βPrince Thor, of course, has long proven his loyalty and commitment to the realm. His leadership isβ¦ steadfast.β
βPrince Loki,β the envoy continued with care, βhas also returned to serve with admirable discretion.β He smiled thinly. βHis talents are undeniable. And his insight, while unconventional, has beenβ¦ illuminating.β You didnβt miss the flicker of hesitation in the manβs voice. The faint tension in the room. They were trying. But no one said trusted. No one said beloved.
You didnβt laugh. But you wanted to. βSo I am to choose,β you said. βBetween brothers.β A ripple of discomfort passed over the table, though none of them contradicted you.
βIt is a request, not a requirement,β one of the advisors said smoothly. βBut the marriage would beβ¦ strategically significant. Especially given the growing unrest on Vanaheim and the border disputes near Nidavellir. A united front is essential.β
Thor turned his head slightly toward you, but didnβt speak. Loki stood motionless. You thought back to every book youβd read in the last week. Every dusty volume on pre-war alliances, on diplomatic marriages used to stave off bloodshed. The histories all said the same thing: kingdoms didnβt survive on sentiment. They survived on sacrifice.
The envoy leaned forward. βWe want peace. You want peace. This would secure it.β
You could feel Loki watching you now. No words. No reaction. But his gaze was razor-sharpβslicing through your composed expression, reading the shape of your silence like it was written in ink. Of course he understood now. Why youβd hidden in the library. Why youβd read the things you did. Why you couldnβt sleep.
Because you were being turned into a treatyβ something in your gut had been preparing you for this moment since before you had returned to Asgard. And more than thatβ they wanted you to pick Thor. They didnβt say it outright but they didnβt need to. It was in every deferential glance, every knowing nod. Thor was stability. Honor. Predictable. Loki wasβ¦ not.
βI will consider it,β you said.
The words dropped like a stone in water. The envoy smiled, relieved. The other advisors murmured their approval. Thor inclined his head in quiet acknowledgment. Loki? Nothing. No change in expression. No shift in weight. Not even the flicker of his jaw. He didnβt even flinch.
You stood as the council rose. βThank you for your candor,β you said, the diplomatβs armor clicking into place. βWhen I have reached a decision, I will inform you.β
The envoy smiled again. βWe are grateful for your wisdom.β
You turned to go. Your heart thudded against your ribs. Not with fear. With fury. Loki followed no one as you and Thor left the chamber. You didnβt look back. But you felt it in your spineβ his silence was not surrender. It was restraint.
-
Youβd survived war negotiations, assassination threats, and two weeks in the Kree Neutral Zone with a shattered translator and a diplomat who referred to himself in the third person. And yet nothing had prepared you for how exhausting it was to smile this long.
The Great Hall glittered in gold and indigo, draped in banners stitched with All-Realms sigils. A thousand candles hovered above the crowd, each flame dancing to a silent rhythm. Diplomats swirled in ceremonial robes. Asgardian nobles sipped aged wine and whispered beneath heavy chandeliers. You wore a deep-cut gown laced in silver threadβan Earth design, but tailored in Asgardβs celestial fabric. Respectable. Regal. Just transparent enough to remind the room you were something new. Something they hadnβt decided how to categorize yet.
On your arm, Thor moved like a man born to be watched. He had offered to keep you company, knowing your distaste for events like these. Especially when you were still raw from the council's βrequestβ.
He greeted every noble with a quiet smile. Nodded politely through endless praise. He held your hand with practiced ease, the kind of gallant warmth that made everything feel steady. Predictable. Safe.
And yetβyour body was humming. Not with nerves. With awareness. You could feel him watching. You hadnβt seen Loki since the council meeting. Heβd vanished from court for days. You swore you werenβt counting. Heβd left no messages, nor sent any while away. No snide remarks in the hall. Just silence.
But now? Now you felt the pull of him before you even found his face in the crowd. He stood just beyond the curve of the ballroom, dressed in deep black with emerald accents sharp enough to catch candlelight. He wasnβt mingling. He wasnβt drinking. He was watchingβ for you.
And the moment your eyes metβeverything else disappeared. His gaze dragged over you, slow and unapologetic. From your mouth to your neck to the hand Thor held at your waist. You held his stare anyway. Let it brand you. He smiled.
You blinked, returning to the moment. βThank you,β you said, genuinely. βSo do you.β
He held out his hand. βShall we?β
You nodded. Let him guide you to the center of the floor. The dance was elegant, practiced. You and Thor moved in clean circles, polished and poised. You laughed when he made a rare joke about courtly shoes. You spun when the tempo rose. From the outside, you imagined you looked like the perfect picture of alliance.
But from the inside? You could feel eyes burning holes into your spine. You knew Loki hadnβt looked away. And thenβhe was there.
As the song slowed and Thor stepped back, Loki cut in smoothly, his gloved hand sliding over yours like heβd been waiting for permission to touch you again.
βBrother,β he said, nodding. βMay I?β
Thor glanced at you, but you said nothing. Just allowed it.
Lokiβs hand pressed to the small of your back, the other clasping yours. His touch was not hesitant. It was possessive.
And when you met his eyes, you knew this wasnβt just a dance. It was a confrontation. βYou two make such a lovely couple,β Loki purred, voice too low for anyone else to hear.
βWe do,β you replied, voice steady. βThank you.β
He tilted his head. Smiled. βItβs such a shame youβre not attracted to him.β
Your heart slammed. You opened your mouth to snap backβbut the truth beat you to it. βI know itββ You stopped. Froze mid-sentence. Because the look in his eyes told you heβd caught it. The admission. The thread you hadnβt meant to unravel. Lokiβs smile curled, not cruelβbut knowing. Your next step faltered and he steadied you wordlessly, eyes locked on yours.
βYouβve been playing the part well darling,β he murmured, his breath brushing your cheek. βBut you forgetβI know what you look like when you want something.β
You swallowed hard. βAnd what do I look like now?β
Lokiβs eyes didnβt waver. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. βLike youβre trying not to beg me.β His voice was soft. Velvet wrapped around a blade. βLike you want me more than you want to breathe. And you hate that I know it.β
Your breath hitched. You turned your headβslow, almost helplessβand met his eyes. And then it happened. A flicker. A fracture. Your brows drew ever so slightly together. Not in confusion. Not in anger. But in ache. That sharp, silent look of someone holding back a truth too big for the space between two people. Your lips partedβnot to speak, not to argueβbut because they wanted to touch his. Your nose twitched, just once, as if your body had betrayed you with the weight of its own longing.
It wasnβt a smile. It wasnβt even a reaction. It was a flash of need so raw and so repressed it hurt to wear. The lookβthe lookβwas the kind poets spend their lives trying to describe. And Loki saw it all. His grip on your waist tightenedβbarely. His jaw tightened as he drew in a breath. A silent plea. But he didnβt speak. He didnβt smirk. He just looked at you like a man drowning in the one person who could save him.
You looked away first. Because if you didnβt, the entire room would vanish, and youβd be left with only himβand the truth. His hand flexed at your back, drawing you infinitesimally closer. The space between your bodies all but vanished. Your bodies moved, but your minds didnβt follow. It wasnβt dancing anymore. It was warning. It was tension. It was want. And you breathed him in. Spiced leather. Smoke. Thunder.
βI thought you werenβt speaking to me,β you whispered, attempting to change the subject to anything less dangerous than this.
βI was trying to be decent.β He hummed.
βAnd now?β
He smiled rougishly against your cheek. βIβve remembered Iβm not.β
Then, the dance ended. Applause rippled politely as you stared at him while stepping away. He didnβt try to hold you. Didnβt need to. Heβd already made his point. And youβyou would carry it for the rest of the night.
-
You didnβt go back to the banquet. Not right away. You slipped through the side corridors of the palace, past hushed guards and silent statues, until the music was just a murmur behind stone and velvet. You werenβt sure where you were goingβonly that if you stayed another moment in that glittering, suffocating hall, youβd shatter.
Eventually, your feet brought you to a small alcove lined with old mirrors. Ornamental. Forgotten. A place the architects had carved into the wall for beautyβs sake alone. You stepped in, shoulders stiff. Back rigid. Chest tight. The firelight from the sconces caught your reflection.
You stared. The gown was still perfect. The hair untouched. But your faceβ¦ your face was a different thing entirely. Eyes too bright. Mouth parted like youβd just surfaced from underwater. That lookβGods, that look. You saw it now. The ache youβd tried to conceal. The desire. The want. It wasnβt subtle anymore. Not even close. You closed your eyes. Breathed in.
βYouβre unraveling,β came a voice behind you. Low. Smooth. Familiar enough now that it lived in your marrow.
You didnβt turn around. βYou should leave.β
βAnd miss the afterglow of that performance?β His footsteps were slow, unhurried. βIβve never seen such convincing diplomacy.β
You opened your eyes again. Watched his reflection materialize behind yours. Loki stood just inside the archway, sleeves rolled, jacket gone. His collar was open, hair looser now than it had been on the floor. He lookedβ¦ less composed. Less like a prince and more like the man whoβd nearly undone you with a whisper.
βYou shouldnβt be here,β you murmured.
βI know.β
βAnd yet.β
βI saw you leave.β His eyes flicked over your shoulder in the mirror. βYou looked like you were going to be sick. Or cry.β
You said nothing. He stepped forward thenβclose enough now that you could feel the heat of him at your back. The reflection showed your shoulders tense, his gaze locked not on your body but your face. βI was going to let you go,β he said. βAfter the dance. I told myself it was enough to know you wanted me.β
You swallowed. βBut then I saw you tugging at the clasp.β
You blinked. βWhat?β
He reached up. His gloved hand brushed your hair aside. His bare fingersβjust his fingertipsβfound the small clasp at the nape of your gown. It had come undone during the dance, the silver hook crooked and digging slightly into your skin. βI saw it shift,β he murmured. βAnd I thoughtβwhat a shame, if no one fixed it.β
He adjusted it carefully. You could feel the heat of his hand against your skin. One finger lingered just a moment too longβpressed flat against the exposed line of your spine. It wasnβt accidental. It wasnβt innocent. Your breath hitched.
βThere,β he said, voice lower now. βFixed.β You turned around slowly. He was closer than you expected. His hand dropped to his side. Neither of you stepped back.
βI donβt know what to do with you,β you said, voice quiet. βI never have.β
Loki looked at you like he wanted to say a hundred thingsβand couldnβt choose which one would be the least destructive. βI know exactly what I want to do with you,β he said. βWhich is why Iβm not kissing you right now.β
Your heart stuttered. βYou think thatβs noble?β
βNo,β he replied. βI think itβs survival.β
You wanted to hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to scream until the gods themselves came down and fixed it all. Instead, you looked away.
βThe council is watching,β you said.
βSo let them watch,β he whispered. βTheyβve never seen someone choose fire before.β
You looked back at him. And this time, it wasnβt restraint that held you still. It was fear. Not of himβbut of yourself. Because you were dangerously close to saying yes. Because for one trembling second, you almost didnβt care about the cost. But you still werenβt ready to pay it. You turned away again, a final stitch pulling your mask back into place.
βThank you,β you said, voice flat. βFor the clasp.β
Loki lingered behind you a moment longer. Then, he said, βAny time, darling.β You didnβt turn around. And when he leftβyou didnβt breathe. Not until the sound of his boots faded. And even then, you werenβt sure you knew how.
-
The Council Chamber smelled like sanctimony. It always had. Too much velvet, not enough air. You sat at the long circular table, flanked by advisors from both Earth and Asgard, the ceiling arching high above like a cathedral meant to consecrate deals rather than deities. The crown princeβThorβsat at your right. Odinβs former steward to your left. And behind them, the remaining council members: scholars, generals, diplomats. Judges of history in real time.
Across the room, half-shrouded in shadow, Loki leaned against one of the marble pillars. Not at the table. Not in the discussion. Just watching. Of course he was watching.
βYour role has always been one of bridge-building,β one of the Earth delegates said. βThis engagementβshould it move forwardβwould only strengthen the bond between our worlds.β
βAsgard has always welcomed you,β an elder added. βThis would only make your presence hereβ¦ permanent.β
You did not flinch. You did not show them the chill crawling down your spine. Theyβd wrapped it in silk and diplomacy, of course. A proposal in principle. Your freedom to choose. The importance of representation, unity, balance. But make no mistake: this was war prevention. Dressed in brocade.
βWe arenβt here to assign you a suitor,β the head steward said smoothly, βmerely to support whatever union you deem mostβstrategically viable.β
A lie. They didnβt want a choice. They wanted a name. And you knew which one they preferred. All eyes turned to you. You took a breath. Raised your chin. βI accept the premise,β you said, voice even. βFor the good of both realms, I will consider a formal alliance. Through marriage.β
Thor didnβt move. But beside the pillar, Lokiβs frame tensed. You could feel it. Even without looking. You didnβt need to see his face to know what it looked like. Youβd memorized every one of his tells. His stillness was louder than their applause. You did not name either brother. Not yet. But stillβthe council exhaled like it had won.
-
The attack came exactly seven days later. It wasnβt grand. No fireworks, no battlefield. Just a knife. Simple. Brutal. Nearly effective.
You had taken a shortcut through the outer gardens after a late session in the west tower libraryβan area near the palace walls, seldom traveled after dusk. Youβd done it a hundred times. Maybe more.
You didnβt expect the figure in the dark. Didnβt expect the glint of the blade. Youβd foughtβof course you had. You werenβt helpless. But it had been close.
Your side burned. Your dress was soaked in blood. You stumbled through the foliage, vision swimming, hand pressed tight against your ribs. You didnβt know if the blade had nicked a lung. You werenβt sure how far youβd made it before your knees gave out. And thenβyou heard footsteps. Faster than guards. Quieter than a soldier.
Loki.
You didnβt even look up before you said his name. βLokiββ
He dropped beside you in an instant, arms catching you before you could fully collapse into the garden floor. βWho did this to you?β he hissed, voice a sharp, vicious thing. Not panicβfury.
βIβI didnβt see.β
βShh.β He pressed his palm to your wound, hard. You cried out, and he nearly lost it.
βKeep pressure on it,β you gritted, light-headed now.
βYou are bleeding,β he said, voice low and wild. βDo you not think I know that?β
His magic flared against your skin, a burst of cool green light fusing into the cut. You winced. He flinched at the sound. βI swear,β he whispered, βif this is because of the councilββ
βWe donβt know that,β you said.
He looked at you then, eyes blazing. βThen tell me who. Tell me who touched you.β
You stared back, dazed. And for a moment, the garden disappeared. There was no court. No council. No politics. Just his hands on youβfierce and gentle. Just the tremble in his jaw as he steadied your body against his. Just the fury he wore like armor, not for himself, but for you. He looked like he might tear the realms apart with his bare hands. βIβm fine,β you whispered. It was a lie. But it was all you had.
βNo,β he said. βYouβre not.β
You didnβt argue. His hands were stained red now. He didnβt seem to care. He gathered you up into his arms like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. βDonβt close your eyes,β he said, quietly. βNot yet.β
βI wasnβt going to.β
He raised an eyebrow. βLiar.β
Your lips curvedβjust barely. He held you tighter. And this time, you let him.
-
They laid you out on a silver healing table just before dawn. The medical wing of the palace was quiet at this hour, lined in veined marble and lit only by soft alchemical light. Healers moved around you like shadowsβchecking readings, administering salvesβbut you barely registered them.
All you could feel was the tremor in Lokiβs hands. He hadnβt left your side. Even now, as the head healer made her final pass, he stood at the edge of the room like a storm held back by sheer force of will. His jaw was clenched. His shoulders rigid. He hadnβt spoken since heβd carried you inβonly glared. At the medics. At the guards. At anyone who looked at you too long. He wasnβt wearing his usual armor anymore. His tunic was still streaked with blood.
Yours.
Thor arrived moments later, his expression thunderous. He took one look at the wound dressing, the smear of crimson down your ribs, and then turned to his brother.βWhat happened?β
βI found her bleeding in the outer garden,β Loki said, voice like broken glass.
Thorβs gaze slid to you. βDo we know who did it?β
βNo,β you murmured. βI didnβt see them. Fast. Trained.β
Thor exhaled, his jaw ticking. βIβll deploy internal security. Double your protection.β
Loki scoffed under his breath. βHow noble. Where was that foresight before she was nearly killed?β
Thorβs eyes narrowed. βNow is not the timeββ
βNo,β Loki snapped, βnow is exactly the time.β
You sat up slowly, pain spiking beneath your ribs. βStop.β Both brothers fell silent. You looked between them, tired and angry. βThis was a warning.β
βTo whom?β Thor asked.
βTo me. To anyone who thinks this arrangement is mine to control.β
The door opened. The council envoy stepped in. And Loki went still. He didnβt move. Didnβt speak. But the temperature in the room shifted. The envoy approached your bedside with a too-solemn expression. βWeβre deeply troubled by this attack,β he said. βSecurity is being thoroughly reviewed.β
You stared at him. βReviewed?β
βCertainly. Thereβs no indication the attempt was internal.β
βYou donβt think someone inside these walls is capable of this?β Loki said, voice calm. Deadly. βThen you are either blind or complicit.β
βPrince Loki,β the envoy warned.
You raised a hand. βDonβt.β
He turned to you. βOf course. We simply want to ensure that this event doesnβt delay your decision regarding the alliance. Itβs more important than ever that the realms see unity.β Your breath caught. There it was again. Not concern. Not fear. Pressure. Even now. Even after blood.
You sat up straighter, ignoring the pain. Your voice was ice. βLet me be clear. I will not be bullied into a crown while still bleeding.β The envoy faltered. βI said I would consider the proposal. I didnβt say I would rush into it because someone tried to make a point with a blade.β Your gaze sharpened. βIf anything, this makes me question which realm Iβm actually safer in.β
Lokiβs hand clenched at his side. The envoy opened his mouthβbut Thor beat him to it. βSheβs right,β Thor said. Quiet. Steady. βThis conversation can wait.β
That surprised you. So did the way Loki looked at him. Not with rivalry. With something closer to respect.
The envoy bowed stiffly. βWeβllβ¦ reconvene another time.β When they were gone, the room fell quiet again. You let your shoulders sag.
Thor was the first to speak. βYou didnβt need to defend me, you know.β
You blinked. βI didnβt.β
He nodded once, understanding more than you expected. βYouβre not going to pick me, are you?β
You didnβt answer. He nodded again. βThatβs what I thought.β
And then, quietly: βHeβs impossible. But he sees you.β
You looked at him, startled.
βI donβt love you like that,β Thor added. βBut I do love you. As my friend. As the person whoβs held this alliance together longer than any of us couldβve.β
You felt the sting behind your eyes. βIβm sorry,β you said.
He shook his head. βDonβt be. I always knew.β
He turned to goβthen stopped at the doorway. βWhen you tell himβ¦ be kind.β
-
When Thor left, Loki stayed behind. You looked at him in the silence. βYouβre still angry.β
βNo,β he said, stepping forward. βIβm furious.β
βLokiββ
βWhoever did this, whoever let it happenβI will find them.β
You searched his face. βYou scare them, you know,β you said.
βI should.β
βBut you donβt scare me.β
His gaze softened. βI know.β He moved closer. Not touching. Not yet. βBut you should tell me,β he said quietly, βwhen youβre afraid. Because Iβll never let you bleed alone again.β
-
You werenβt supposed to be walking. Certainly not alone. But if one more healer touched you with soothing hands and reassuring tones, you were going to break something expensive.
The formal corridors of the west wing were quiet at nightβyour footsteps ghosted over marble, echoing like a secret. You wore only a thin shift and your robe, loosely belted at the waist, the faint healing seal still pulsing warm beneath the fabric over your ribs. The candles flickered low in the sconces. Your breath, however, came high and tight.
Because you werenβt the only one in the hall. You sensed him before you saw him. The weight of gravity tilting. Your whole body went alert in the same way it had when blades had been pressed to your throat in negotiationsβonly this was worse. Not fear. Anticipation. You turned the corner andβ
Loki was already there. Leaning against the wall opposite your chambers. Waiting. No armor. No crown. Just black silk and green shadows. Bare forearms crossed over his chest, rings glinting. Eyes fixed on the marble at his feet. Brooding like it was a full-time occupation. Until he saw you.
And then he was moving. βAre you insane?β he hissed, crossing to you in three long strides. βYou were nearly killed and now youβreβwhatβwandering unguarded like prey?β
βI needed air,β you snapped, clutching your robe tighter.
βYou needed rest.β
βDonβtββ
βDonβt what?β he bit out. βDonβt speak to you like I give a damn whether you bleed out in the hall?β
βIβm fine.β
βYouβre not.β
The words hung between you, sharp and ugly. And thenβ βI canβt do this right now,β you muttered, trying to pass him.
But he didnβt move. βThen tell me what you are doing.β
βI donβt owe you that.β
βYouβre right,β he said. βYou donβt.β And stillβhe stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat between your bodies. Close enough that his voice dropped, low and dark and dangerous. βBut if you lie to me again,β he said, βI will kiss you. Just to watch the truth fall out of your mouth.β
Your pulse slammed into your throat. βIβm not lying,β you said quietly.
He tilted his head. βNo?β
You swallowed. βI justβI donβt know what you want from me.β
βEverything.β
The word hit harder than it should have. But before you could look awayβ your voice cracked. βI nearly died.β He stilled. You pushed forward before you could lose the nerve. βAnd I still didnβt want him. I didnβt call for Thor. I didnβt think of Thor. What does that say about me?β
He didnβt smirk. Didnβt gloat. Just looked at you like the truth had cost him more than it ever would you. βThat youβre not ready to lie to yourself yet,β Loki said quietly. The breath left your lungs. You stepped back. He followed.
βDonβt do this,β you whispered.
βDonβt what?β His voice was low, dangerous now. βDonβt touch you? Donβt want you?β
βI never said that.β
βYou never had to.β His hand rose, brushing the side of your face with a gentleness that broke you wide open. βYou look at me like you want to ruin something,β he murmured. βAnd still you pretend to be made of steel.β
βI am steel.β
βYouβre fire, darling,β he whispered. βAnd youβre running out of places to burn without setting the whole realm ablaze.β His fingers brushed your cheekβbarelyβand you exhaled like youβd been holding your breath for hours. Then his hand dropped. He turned. And youβgods help youβyou grabbed his wrist.
He froze. You didnβt speak. Just pulled him toward you, backed yourself against the wall, and kissed him like it had already happened a thousand times in dreams. He groanedβlow and gutturalβand it was on. His mouth crushed to yours, lips hot, tongue insistent. His hands braced beside your head one second, then they were tangled in your hair, down your waist, dragging your robe open and cursing against your neck.
Your fingers fisted in his shirt, yanking him closer. You were starving. And he fed you like heβd been waiting to do it since time began. βLokiββ you gasped, when his mouth found your throat.
He growled. βSay it again.β
βLokiββ He kissed you harder. You moaned. His knee pressed between your thighs. Your body arched. You felt the friction of his hips against youβhis cock thick and hard through his trousers, grinding just enough to make you see stars. You whimperedβand his mouth faltered.
βYouβre shaking,β he breathed.
βDonβt stop.β
βGods,β he whispered. βYou donβt know what youβre asking.β
βI do.β You clutched the back of his neck, panting. βI know exactly what Iβm asking.β He pulled back just enough to look at you. And thenβhis hand slid between your legs. Over your underwear. Not inside. He rubbed onceβslow and devastating. You jerked against him, gasping. His breath caught.
βYouβre soaked.β He bit out the word like a curse. βYouβve been like this all night? Aching for me?β You couldnβt answer. Your head fell back. His fingers moved again. You came apart with a cry against his shoulder, shattering so fast it left you boneless in his arms.
He caught you. Held you while you trembled. But he didnβt go further. Didnβt take. Because somewhere, in the distanceβ a sound. Footsteps. Too close. Too real.
Your eyes widened. He pressed his forehead to yours, cursing under his breath. βGo,β you whispered. He stared at you, eyes wild. βWe canβtββ
βI know.β He stepped back. Recomposed. You cinched your robe. Your legs still shook. When you looked at him again, his mouth was parted like he couldnβt breathe. Neither could you. βWhich,β he said, voice wrecked, βis why Iβm not kissing you right now.β Then he vanished. And you stood alone in the hallwayβStill trembling. Still burning. And still unable to lie to yourself.
-
You avoided court the next day. And the next. Meetings were rescheduled. Duties reassigned. You feigned illnessβthough it wasnβt entirely a lie. There was something sick in your blood now. Something volatile. Loki hadnβt come. Not to your door. Not to your thoughts. But he was everywhere. You could feel the ghost of his hands. His mouth. The heat between your legs still echoed with the memory of how heβd touched youβbarely, completely, ruinously. You were no longer pretending you didnβt want him.
Now, you were pretending you could survive wanting him.
-
Thor came to see you. He didnβt knock. He never had to. Heβd always been able to read your silences the way others read reports. He stepped inside your chambers, closed the door gently behind him, and said nothing for a long time. You watched him from the balcony. The view stretched over Asgardβs outer spires, sunlight cascading in soft blues and golds over distant peaks.
βYouβre not well,β he said finally.
You turned slightly, arms folded. βIβm healing.β
βI donβt mean your body.β
You didnβt answer. Thor approached with quiet reverence. Not pressing. Just present. βYou know,β he said, βyou donβt have to say yes.β
Your throat tightened. βTo what?β
βTo any of this,β he said simply. βTo them. To me.β You looked at him then. Really looked. Kind eyes. Loyal heart. Steady hand. Everything you should want. But not everything you did. He smiled, small and knowing. βI would make a good husband. A good king. I believe weβd do a great deal of good together.β You nodded. Because it was true. βButβ¦β he said softly, βIβm not the one who makes you forget how to breathe.β
Your chest cracked open. He stepped closer, rested a hand on your shoulder. βYou donβt have to say it. I already know.β
βI never meant toββ
βI know,β he said. βYou were trying to be brave.β
You let out a strangled sound. βThen why does it feel like cowardice?β Thor didnβt answer. He just pulled you into a hug. Solid. Fierce. Forgiving. When he left, you sat alone in silence for hours. And thenβafter darkβyou went looking for him.
-
The tower wing was nearly empty at this hour. You found him in the observatory: alone, facing the stars, long limbs curled in a high-backed chair like he belonged to the shadows. You paused in the doorway. Loki didnβt turn.
βI thought youβd come eventually,β he said. You stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click.
βI donβt want to fight,β you said.
βThatβs fortunate,β he murmured. βI donβt have the strength.β You crossed to him. Slowly. He still didnβt look at you.
βI canβt make sense of it,β you said. βYou. This. The way it pulls at me. The way you undo me.β
βYou think I can make sense of it?β he said, finally turning. His face was sharp with restraint. Fury and ache living behind the glint in his eyes. He hadnβt touched you, but you felt him in your skin. In your breath.
You didnβt sit. Just stood there, trembling slightly. βI thought I could control it. I thoughtβ¦ if I just ignored it long enough, it would pass.β He rose to his feetβslow, measured.
You swallowed. βBut itβs not going anywhere, is it?β
βNo,β he said. βItβs not.β
You breathed out. βThen what do we do?β
Loki stepped forward, close enough to touch. Close enough to feel. βWe stop pretending,β he said. βWe stop lying.β
βI donβt know how.β
βI do.β His hand reached upβcupped your cheek gently. βThen let me show you.β
And gods help you, you let him. He kissed you like there was no tomorrow. No kingdom. No brother. No expectations. Just you. It was hungrier this time. No pretense. No control. His hands roamed with purposeβover your waist, your back, your thighs. You gasped when he lifted you onto the stone table behind you, the edge digging into your skin. He kissed down your neck, sucked a mark into your collarbone, bit your lower lip until you moaned into his mouth.
You tugged at his tunic. He stripped it off. You followed, your robe pooling at your hips, shift slipping from your shoulders. He stared at youβravished and reverent.
βLook at me,β you whispered.
βI never stopped.β His hand slid between your legsβthis time, inside. Skin on skin. You cried out. He swallowed it. His fingers worked you open, slow but filthy. He whispered things in your ear that made your hips jerk. He told you what he wanted. What he dreamed of. What you sounded like in his sleep. And when you came, clenching around his fingers, he cursed like a man on fire.
You pulled at his trousers, desperate to feel him. But he caught your wrist. βNot yet,β he said, voice rough. βNot like this.β
βWhy not?β
βBecause if I fuck you here,β he growled, βI wonβt be able to stop.β You blinked. Breathless. βIβll take you like youβre already mine,β he said. βAnd I wonβt let you go.β
Your eyes fluttered shut. βMaybe I want that.β
βNo,β he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. βNot like this.β He helped you down. Steadied you. βIβll wait,β he said. βBut not forever.β
You kissed him once moreβsoft, lingering. Then you slipped from the room, body aching. And for the first time in daysβyou felt real.
-
The summons came at dawn. You hadnβt slept. Not really. Youβd closed your eyes, but your mind stayed knottedβwrapped around heat and hunger and the way his voice still echoed in your chest. You had let him touch you. Too much. Not enough. And nowβ¦ now you were expected to walk back into a room and decide the future like it was just another diplomatic formality.
But you were Earthβs representative. You didnβt get the luxury of hesitation. The Council chamber pulsed with low voices and scented oil. The All-Realms banners had been redrapedβgold for peace, navy for law, crimson for unity. A performance, all of it. As if fabric could bind together what centuries of bloodshed could not.
Thor was already there when you arrived. His presence grounded the space like it always did. He stood tall, broad-shouldered in ceremonial armor that gleamed like dawn. He offered you a nodβsomething warm behind it. Not expectant. Not possessive. Justβ¦ patient. Loki arrived late. He walked in like he hadnβt just touched you like a secret days ago. Like he hadnβt whispered things into your skin that left you shaking. He didnβt meet your eyes. You hated him for that. But you hated yourself more.
The Earth diplomat spoke first. Her voice was gentle. But final. βThere has been unrest,β she said, placing a data scroll on the table. βA rebel faction in Lagos intercepted an aid convoy. Twelve dead. Dozens wounded. The talks we scheduled for next week have beenβ¦ suspended.β
Your hands curled into fists beneath the table. Another envoy cleared their throat. βThis was always the fear. That Earth would fracture without a solid alliance.β
βA marriage,β the Wakandan ambassador said calmly. βWas proposed for this reason.β You didnβt speak.
βWe do not wish to dictate your heart,β someone added from Vanaheim. βBut the Council needs assurance. The realms do.β
βAnd you believe a marriage would give that?β you asked, voice measured.
βIt would give stability,β Thor said. βA symbol.β
The table looked at you. Waited. And somewhere down the tableβs curve, Loki sat. Still. Cold. Remote. Your eyes flicked to him just once. He didnβt look up. Didnβt offer you anything. Not a glance. Not a plea. He was giving you an out. And gods, you took it.
βI will accept the arrangement,β you said, voice clear. A beat of silence.
βThen itβs settled?β asked the Xandarian delegate. βYouβll marry Prince Thor?β
Your chest felt too tight to breathe. But your voice didnβt shake. βYes,β you said. βI will.β
-
Thor found you afterward in the corridor. You didnβt speak. You just stood there, facing opposite walls, like two statues commemorating a war not yet won.
βYou didnβt have to,β he said.
βI know.β
He waited. βThen why?β
You didnβt look at him. βBecause I can control this,β you said. βAnd because Iβm afraid of what I canβt.β
Thor was silent for a long time. Then he placed a hand gently on your shoulder. βFor what itβs worth,β he said, βI think youβll be a remarkable queen.β You didnβt respond. You didnβt cry. You just nodded. And walked away.
-
That night, you sat alone in your quarters, still dressed in council robes. Your reflection in the mirror looked regal. Powerful. Lies on top of lies. You stared at yourself for a long time. And whispered, almost too softly to hearβ βYou chose this.β
But it didnβt feel like a victory. It felt like surrender. And when the silence deepened, when the candles burned lower, you imagined what Loki mightβve said if heβd been there. If heβd fought for you. If youβd asked him to. But he hadnβt. And you hadnβt. And now? Now there was only silence.
-
You didnβt mean to end up in the west wing again. But your feet took you there before your mind could catch upβpast the courtβs soft congratulations, the diplomatsβ knowing nods, the distant sounds of celebration that felt like they belonged to someone else. To her. The version of you they all now saw. Asgardβs chosen bride. Thorβs future queen.
And yet hereβwhere the stone walls were bare and cold and nothing glitteredβyou could finally breathe. Almost. You stood in the stillness, half-sick with the weight of the ceremonial robes you hadnβt removed. They hung heavy on your frame. Silk and gold that felt less like glory and more like manacles. A gilded sentence. The cold seeped into your skin, but you didnβt move. Not untilβ
βYouβre running again.β His voice. Low. Close. Unforgiving. You turned slowly. Loki stood in the archway. No armor. No crown. Just shadows curling at the hem of his tunic and a look in his eyes like heβd been cleaved in two. He didnβt smile. Didnβt sneer. And you didnβt pretend not to know why he was here.
You said nothing. He stepped forwardβmeasured, composed. Rage tucked neatly behind his teeth. βTell me, was it worth it?β
You swallowed. βI did what was expected.β
βThatβs not what I asked.β
You looked away, jaw tight. βEarth is fracturing. The alliance is fragile. This gives them what they want.β
βAnd what do you want?β He said it like a blade sliding beneath your ribs.
Your voice faltered. βIt doesnβt matter what I want.β
βOf course it does.β
You snapped back, eyes bright. βNo, Loki. It doesnβt. Not this time.β
The silence that followed cracked like frost. He studied youβnot with judgment, but with something far more dangerous. βYou said yes,β he said, barely above a whisper. βAnd you didnβt even look at me.β
You took a breath that didnβt help. βBecause I knew I couldnβt survive it if I did.β
He moved closerβslow, deliberate, a storm kept barely in check. βYou told the Council what they wanted to hear. Told Thor what he needed to believe. But you havenβt told me anything.β He was in front of you now. No inches left to spare. βSo tell me the truth.β
Your breath trembled. βWhat truth?β
βThat you didnβt choose Thor.β His voice was razor-thin. βYou chose fear.β You broke then. Not outwardly. Not with sobs. But insideβdeep, deep insideβsomething gave out. But you didnβt deny it. You just stood there. Trembling.
βDistance.β Your voice broke. βI chose distance. From this. From you. Itβs like I canβt breathe whenever you look at me. You make it hard for me to do what I have to. To be who the world needs me to be.β
He stared at you like he was watching a battlefield he couldnβt turn away from. βDo you truly think distance would ever dull this?β His voice was low. Frayed. Dangerous in its honesty. βThat if I stood on some other world long enough, I might stop aching for you?β
He stepped closer, slow and steady, as if closing the gap might hurt you both. βIβve lied for a lifetime. Manipulated gods, torn kingdoms apartβand still, I canβt lie to myself about this.β
His gaze was scorching. No theatrics. No grin. Just truth. βAround you, I forget every lesson I was ever taught about control. About caution. I come undone.β
You could barely breathe. βYou are the sharpest thorn in my side,β he said, voice tightening. βAnd somehow, the only peace Iβve ever craved.β
His hand hovered near your jaw, reverent but trembling. βDo you even realize what you do to me?β He exhaled. βThe things Iβve imaginedββ
His throat bobbed. βThe things Iβd teach you, if I ever let myself go that farβ¦β
Your eyes fluttered shut. βLokiββ
βIf I allow this farce of a marriage to go forward, it will bind me to you in the worst way imaginable. I will stand beside my brother. Day after day. And drown in the weight of all I cannot have.β His voice was shaking now. Desperate. Quietly undone.
βYou chose a kingdom that never trusted me. A council that wants a symbol, not a woman. You chose a man who doesnβt love youβbecause it made more sense than choosing one who does.β He growled.
Your hands clenched into the silk of your robes. βDonβt make me choose you,β you whispered. βNot now.β
βWhy not?β
βBecause I will.β
The silence exploded between you. Lokiβs breath caught. His hand finally touched your face, gentle as snowfall. βThen do.β
You closed your eyes. Leaned into his palm like it was the only thing tethering you to the moment. βI canβt,β you breathed. βThey need this. The realms need this.β
βThey need a lie.β You opened your eyes. His were burning.
βAnd Iββ your voice cracked. βI need something I can survive.β
Lokiβs thumb brushed your cheek. βThen survive me,β he said, βand let the world burn.β
You kissed him. There was no warning this time. Your mouth crashed to his with a force that stole breath and reason both. His hands were in your hair, at your hips, pulling you in like he could take the decision back with every desperate movement. You gasped against himβneeding more, needing less, needing anything but this pain. And yetβ
It wasnβt enough. Not when he pulled back, chest heaving, eyes blazing. βYou are the most brilliant coward Iβve ever known,β he said.
βAnd you,β you whispered, βare the thing I want most and fear the worst.β You stepped back before you could fall again. He didnβt stop you. But he didnβt look away either. You left him in the dark. Shaking. Furious. And for the first time, you understood what it meant to break something beautiful.
Not by accident. But by choice.
-
The days passed in velvet silence. Not actual silenceβAsgard never sleptβbut a hush beneath the bustle. You moved through preparations like a ghost draped in gold, letting the attendants dress you, letting the advisors rehearse the steps, letting the crownmaker take your final measurements without ever asking what you wanted it to look like.
Because it didnβt matter. Not when the ache had settled in your chest like rot. Loki did not disappear. He was still in meetings. Still at council. Still visible in the halls. But he never spoke to you. Never looked too long. Never stayed close enough to reach. He was there, and yet he wasnβt. And it killed you more than absence ever could.
At night, youβd lie awake in your chambers, the ceremonial ring still untouched in its velvet box, and wonder what he was doing. If he still thought of the west wing. If he hated you now, or worseβunderstood you. You were never sure which you feared more.
-
The morning of the ceremony came like an execution.
The bells tolled soft and slow. The sky was too clear. Your dress shimmered like a verdict. And still, you walked. You followed the handmaidens. You let them veil your hair in white woven with light. You let them tuck petals into your sleeves. You let them lead you to the marble room where Thor stood, regal and waiting.
He turned to face you when you entered, his expression unreadable. βThorββ you started, but he raised a hand.
He stepped forward, voice low, meant only for you. βBefore you say anythingβ¦ I know.β
You froze. He looked at you thenβnot as a king. Not as a groom. As a friend. βYouβve been walking like your heart is breaking,β he said softly. βAnd heβs been pretending he doesnβt watch you every time you breathe.β
Your throat tightened. βYou donβt have to say it,β he added. βBut before you do anything in front of the courtβ¦ I want to be sure.β He hesitated. Then, said firmly, but not unkindly, βMake sure this is your choice.β
The room around you faded. The guards. The nobles. The whispers. Just his words. And your answer. You looked up at him, and the sorrow on his faceβthe quiet understandingβwas enough to make your knees weaken.
-
The doors to the ceremonial hall loomed ahead like the jaws of something ancient. White marble stretched beneath your steps, polished so smooth you could see your reflection beneath your feetβregal and still, cloaked in Asgardian silk and Earthβs crest. Your train followed like a cometβs tail, glinting silver and star-forged thread.
Youβd been told you looked divine. But you felt like a blade about to break. There was still time. No vows had been spoken. No names exchanged. You had not yet taken Thorβs hand. And until you did, this was all still just theater. But it wouldnβt be for long.
The ceremonial chamber was packed wall-to-wall. Nobility from every realm. Advisors. War leaders. Dignitaries from Earth and beyond. All of them waiting to witness peace sealed in the most ancient wayβthrough unity, through marriage. The High Priest stood beside the twin dais, draped in white and gold.
Thor stood to his right. Loki stood to the left. Both brothers dressed like royalty carved from myth. But they couldnβt have looked more different. Thor stood proud, golden, every inch the heirβthe protector, the chosen one. And Lokiβ
He looked like ruin in velvet. Tall, composed, dressed in black so rich it drank in the light. Emerald embroidery shimmered down his sleeves, coiled like ivy. He wore no crown. Just a single silver pin over his heart. The same sigil youβd worn during the first Earth diplomatic summit.
He hadnβt looked at you yet. Not until you crossed the threshold. And thenβ then he did.
You thought youβd been prepared for it. You werenβt. His gaze slid over you like reverence. Like heartbreak. Like prayer. He looked at you in your wedding gown the way men looked at lost kingdomsβgrief-struck and spellbound.
There was no anger in his face. No jealousy. No flash of the sharp, theatrical cruelty he sometimes wore like armor. There was only softness. Softness and pain.
Like he was watching the future dissolve in front of him. Like he knew he had already lost. And it shattered you.
Because even thenβeven nowβhe didnβt look away. He let you see it. All of it. And it nearly brought you to your knees.
Your pulse thundered as you walked to the center of the dais, your hands trembling beneath your veil. Thor turned toward you, his expression solemn. Steady. You knew he would never ask for more than you could give. That his love for you was not romantic, but real.
And that was the problem. Because the truth wasnβt about who was safe. It was about who undid you.
βYou look radiant,β Thor said quietly, gently, so only you could hear. βAre you ready?β
Your mouth opened. And no sound came. You looked at the crowd. At the smiling faces. At the Councilβs subtle nods of approval. At Earthβs envoy already preparing to transmit the ceremony to your world.
Then you looked back at Loki. He was still watching you. But he looked like he couldnβt bear to hope.
And suddenly you couldnβt breathe.
Because everything in you screamed. You turnedβabruptly, fullyβaway from Thor.
Your footsteps echoed. A stunned murmur spread like smoke through the room as you walked, straight off the dais. Past the crowd. Past tradition. Toward the man the universe had told you not to choose.
And this timeβ
This time, he looked terrified.
He took a single step forward. One breath. Like he didnβt dare move until you spoke. You stopped in front of him. Close enough that the hem of your gown brushed his boots. And for a long, breathless moment, you just stared at each other.
You swallowed hard. βThis was supposed to be about peace,β you said, voice quietβbut it carried. βAbout alliance. About safety.β Loki didnβt speak. βBut what is peace,β you whispered, βif I have to silence the truth to have it?β
You lifted your hand. Reached for him. βIf I must chooseβthen I choose the one I would go to war for.β Your fingers met his. And that was it.
The chamber erupted. Gasps. Shouts. The High Priest calling for order. Council members rising from their seats. Earthβs envoy muttering into comms. A chorus of disbelief, fury, scandal.
You barely heard it.
Loki took your hand as if you were the only thing in the world still worth holding onto. His eyes searched yours.
βYou chose me,β he said.
You nodded, voice cracking. βI always did.β
His grip tightened around your fingers. Not possessive. Just real. Like something he didnβt believe he was allowed to haveβbut would die to protect.
And behind you, Thor did not move. He stood as he was. Unflinching. βThen Iβll stand beside you both,β he said.
You blinked. βYou donβt have toββ
βI do,β Thor replied, gently. βBecause you were never mine. And heβ¦ he needs someone to steady him.β
Loki exhaled, slow and unsteady. The ceremony was not what it was meant to be. There were no processions. No officiant cleared their throat to begin. The traditions crumbled in the face of something much more powerful.
Truth.
Your hands trembled as Loki took them in his. His vows werenβt rehearsed. His words werenβt diplomatic. βI have lied to kings,β he said quietly. βDeceived gods. Conquered realms. But I have never meant anything more than I mean this: I am yours. And I will burn every throne to ash before I let anyone take you from me again.β
You swallowed the lump in your throat and whispered your own. βI want a life that is mine. And that means you.β
When the rings touched your fingersβslim gold threads enchanted with old runesβyou didnβt hear the crowd anymore. Just him.
βWife,β Loki said, voice low and reverent.
-
You barely made it through the doors of your chambers before his mouth was on yours. The silk of your gown rustled as he backed you into the wall, his hand cradling the side of your face as though afraid you might vanish again.
βDo you know,β he rasped between kisses, βhow many nights I spent dreaming of thisβof you?β
Your fingers fumbled at the clasps of his robes, breath shallow. βTell me,β you whispered. βTell me everything.β
He growled low in his throat, spinning you toward the bed. βYou walked down that aisle and to dais like a queen,β he said. βAnd I wanted to bend you over it. Show them all whose name youβd scream when the doors close.β
You gasped as he gripped your hips and pulled your back against him. You could feel his cock, already hard through his slacks, pressing to the curve of your ass.
βSo fucking smug,β he murmured, dragging your gown down, baring your shoulders. βLooking at me like you didnβt already know.β
You turned to face him. βKnow what?β
He leaned in, teeth brushing your jaw.
βThat youβre mine. That thisββ his hands slid up your thighs, dragging the gown with themβ βhas always belonged to me.β
He didnβt wait.
His mouth found your breast, tongue swirling over a peaked nipple as his hand slid between your legs. You were already soaked, and when his fingers found you, you cried out.
βLook at that,β he purred. βWet for me already. So needy.β
He slipped two fingers inside you, curling just right.
βYou take me so well,β he groaned, thrusting slow. βAre you going to fall apart before I even get inside you?β
Your breath hitched. βDonβt stopβpleaseββ
He smirked. βNot until you scream for me.β You were already close when he dropped to his knees and dragged your gown off completely. He spread your thighs over his shoulders and pulled you to the edge of the bed, feasting on you like he hadnβt eaten in weeks.
His tongue was relentless. His hands gripping your thighs, pinning you down when you bucked against him. You moaned his name again and again, fingers tangling in his hair. When you cameβhard and suddenβhe didnβt stop. He licked you through it, groaning against your cunt like it gave him breath.
Only when you were sobbing his name did he pull back, panting, and kiss the inside of your thigh. βOn the bed,β he ordered. βOn your knees.β
You obeyed, trembling, bracing yourself as he undressed behind you. And thenβyou felt it. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as he rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked entrance.
βYou ready to be fucked like my wife?β he whispered in your ear.
βYes,β you gasped.
βSay it.β
βI want to be fucked like your wifeβpleaseββ He thrust in hard, and you screamed.
βFuck,β he groaned. βSo tight. So perfect. Mine.β Each thrust was deep, possessive, brutal.
He pulled your hair harder, forcing you to look forwardβinto the opulent mirror across the bed. βLook at yourself,β he said. βLook at what I do to you.β
You met your own gaze. Saw your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, your fucked-out stare.
And behind youβLoki. Glorious and wild, eyes burning with hunger.
βYou see that?β he snarled. βThatβs what you look like when youβre being ruined by your husband.β
βLokiββ
βSay it.β
βHusband,β you choked out. βFuckβ Lokiβpleaseββ
He pulled out suddenly and flipped you onto your back, entering you again with a growl as he sank all the way in.
βEyes on me,β he commanded. βLook at me, wife.β
Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. The word wifeβthe way he bit it out, full of desperation and possessionβlit something inside you. He pinned your wrists above your head, fucking you slow and deep. His forehead pressed to yours. His teeth scraped your neck, and when you clenched around him, he cursed. βGonna come for me again?β
βYesβpleaseββ
βThen take it.β You did. You shattered. Mouth open in a silent cry. Legs trembling. And Loki followed you with a ragged moan, spilling inside you with a broken whisper. βFinally.β
You didnβt speak for a long time. Just held each other, limbs tangled, breath uneven. He brushed your hair back. Kissed your temple. βYouβre mine,β he said again. Not a question.
Just a truth. And this timeβyou let it be true.
-
The chambers were dark now.
The candles had burned low, their light reduced to embersβsoft and golden against the silk sheets tangled around your legs. Outside, the palace had quieted. The court was likely still buzzing with gossip, with outrage, with implications for the alliance.
But in here, there was only the sound of your breathing.
And him.
Loki lay beside you, arm draped across your waist, chin resting just above your collarbone. His hair was damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell against your side. One of his fingers traced gentle lines across your ribcage, like he didnβt trust the silence yet.
Neither of you had spoken in minutes.
Not because there was nothing to sayβbut because there was too much.
Eventually, his voice broke the stillness. βYouβre still trembling.β
You blinked up at the ceiling, lips parted. βSo are you.β
He smiled, the curve of it brushing your bare shoulder. βWeβve always been well-matched in chaos.β
You didnβt laughβbut the ache behind your ribs loosened. You turned your head, just slightly, to meet his eyes.
They were soft now. Not wide with hunger or edged in control. Just soft.
Unbelieving. Reverent.
βDo you regret it?β He asked.
The question hung there. And for once, you didnβt hesitate. βNo.β
He let out a slow breath. βGood. Because I would burn the realms twice over if youβd said yes to anyone else.β
You hummed. βYou almost let me.β
βI didnβt think I deserved the chance to stop you.β
You reached up, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. βThatβs the thing about deserving. It doesnβt care whether we think weβve earned it or not.β
βAnd do you think weβve earned this?β
You took a long moment before speaking. βI think Iβm tired of earning things.β
He was quiet again. But his hand slid lower, tracing your hip with an almost protective touch.
βThe treaty,β you murmured. βItβs intact. For now. But theyβll talk.
βLet them.β His voice was steady. βThey always do. And youββ his thumb brushed your stomachββhave done more than anyone asked. You gave them peace. And you chose something for yourself.β
You stared at him. βI donβt want to be a symbol anymore.β
βThen just be my wife instead.β It wasnβt a joke. It wasnβt a command. Justβ¦ gentle.
And gods, it nearly broke you again.
You curled into him, letting the weight of the night finally settle. The future would be complicated. Shaky. Full of consequences. But for the first time in years, maybe your choicesβyour lifeβbelonged to you.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
if you're still accepting requests: might i ask for anything with heechul? maybe a little smut or ~suggestive fic? he's been my favorite for years and he looks sooo goood in this comeback, i just want to see him on his knees TT_TT
thank you in advance! π
yes, yes YESSS! this is on my list now dear anon. finally more heechul in this old ass blog <33
hi can u write a leeteuk smut where the reader is a virgin wondering why leeteuk hasnt made a move in her? she discover him being hard and gives him the green light to be rough with her then. u can add any details u want!! if possible, could u make this 1k word long πππ havent really seen much leeteuk smut except from u!!!! no rush definitely
hi anon! i am sorry i am taking so long but i am combining your request with another one that is pretty similar for leeteuk π i wish more blogs to write for suju, specially leeteuk he is so hot tbh i am falling so hard for him these days. i wonβt let you down π€
Hi! I enjoy your writings, you're great! Can I request a Kyuhyun friends to lovers drabble? I don't have anything specific in my mind i just thought it would be cute with your imagination <3
This is my first time writing a fic for another member that isn't Yesung. Tbh I was tempted to decline the request π but then the idea came out and ended being something I can say isn't as bad as I thought at first π . Being said, I hope you enjoy this ππ»ββοΈ
A yes or no
Chef fem!reader x Kyuhyun
Synopsis: One sees it as a relationship from many years ago, while the other sees it as a simple friendship. Who is right?
Warnings: Fluffy fluff, friends-to-lovers plot, reader is a little oblivious, Lee Da Hee as a special guest, use of "Y/N", written with female pronouns and with a pinch of possible grammar mistakes.
w/c: 2.2k
MASTERLIST
A yes or no
It was the middle of winter, it was nighttime, and it was supposed to be cold.
The work in the restaurant threatened to break your back in half.
You were supposed to be a chef, a very capable one, a famous one specializing in creating desserts.
But for the moment, you could hide your title and stand behind the stoves while you prepared a sea bass with fine herbs.
The heat was suffocating and the hustle and bustle deafening.
The clanging of pots, the sounds of pans searing meat, and the constant clinking of cutlery drowned out any other sounds outside the kitchen.
You were in charge of everything, keeping order and delivering results. You were like an orchestra conductor waving his baton. But now there was no time and they were short-staffed.
You placed the fish on a cutting board and coated it with butter and aromatic herbs while you burned some cubes of butter in a frying pan.
Even though your career had taken a different turn, you never forgot the basic techniques. Your seafood teacher could be proud of you.
"Table eight wants carrot soup as a starter!" shouted one of the waiters who had just come in to take another order.
"Answer me!" you shouted to make yourself heard.
"Got it, coming right up!" shouted one of the newbies, and everyone laughed.
The work environment was worth it all. There was no shortage of jokes, comments meant solely to annoy, or stories shared in search of good advice.
Sometimes the stress was bearable thanks to the cooks.
"We have the boyfriend waiting out front," a waitress reported, placing a couple of slices of cake on her serving tray. "He's been there for ten minutes."
Exaggerated whistles and gasps were heard in the kitchen, followed by the laughter of those who knew you perfectly well.
"He's not my boyfriend," you pointed out, as was your routine. "I've known him since we were old enough to make mud pies but not old enough to avoid eating them."
"I said the same thing about my wife, and now we're expecting our second baby," said the assistant, who continued peeling vegetables as if that were his only job.
Everyone laughed again, and you could only give him a challenging look accompanied by an amused smile.
"That's not our situation," you added as you placed the fish in the oven to cook. "This is the sea bass they ordered. Someone else take care of it because I have things to attend to."
Your cooks gave you mischievous smiles as they made all kinds of teasing comments. "Does he get angry if you make him wait too long?" "Use protection." "Send your location so we know he took you straight home." These were some of the many phrases that came out of their mouths.
You ignored them all as you prepared to end your shift. You didn't want to keep your friend waiting outside, not when you had agreed to accompany him to the premiere of a musical he had been talking about for weeks.
The night wind made you shiver as soon as you stepped outside. You had completely forgotten that the warmth of the kitchen couldn't follow you everywhere.
Kyuhyun laughed when he saw your reaction and just as you turned to scold him, he threw a snowball at you that landed on your head.
The pieces of ice fell on your shoulders, wetting the thin fabric of your blouse.
"It's the first time I've worn it!" you complained, pouting.
Anyone who didn't know you could have sworn that you were dating the idol and that this was just a silly fight between a couple in love.
You bent down to grab a handful of snow and threw it at the balladeer, but the wind blew every snowflake back in your direction.
Kyuhyun laughed again, clearly mocking you.
It seemed impossible to him that you were the chef in charge of that establishment. You were naturally clumsy and childish; it was a miracle that you hadn't burned the kitchen down.
"Get in the car, we're running late thanks to someone who didn't leave work on time."
Despite his words, there were always those tender looks, those mischievous smiles and the sparkle in his eyes, a sparkle that could light up even the darkest of your days.
"Since you've already proven that you woke up clumsier than usual today, here," the singer reached into the back seat and handed you a white coat, "I brought it from your house."
It was those gestures that caused everyone to misinterpret your relationship, or perhaps it was those misunderstandings that encouraged him to be that way.
Kyuhyun lived to annoy you; embarrassing you was his mission in life. But he also had nice gestures that made up for the harm he caused.
Like when he picked you up from work or got you a coat so you wouldn't be cold, or when he opened the car door for you or made you walk on the inside of the sidewalk.
"Why did we postpone game night to come see a musical?" you asked, tapping your chin with your index finger.
"Because Lee Da Hee is the lead actress, and I promised her I'd be here. Plus, I like this writer's work," he told you as he looked for a place to park the car.
Suddenly, something in your chest hurt as if you had an annoying splinter rubbing against the inside, right at the level of your heart.
The uncomfortable feeling lingered longer than expected, forcing you to retreat into your thoughts so that they wouldn't wander to the memory of Lee Da Hee and Kyuhyun as panelists on multiple seasons of "Single's Inferno."
"I thought you wanted to change your routine," you sighed, stretching your arms to get rid of the muscle pain after spending so many hours cooking.
Kyuhyun detected something strange in your voice, a feeling he hadn't noticed in years, and judging by the discreet pout forming on your lips, he would say you were jealous.
The singer smiled with satisfaction and opened the door for you to help you out. You were on time, arriving several minutes early, enough to allow Kyuhyun to go and greet the actors and actresses.
The dressing rooms looked elegant. Everything neatly arranged, the costumes hanging on hooks with the actors' names and corresponding scenes written on their covers.
Amidst all the chaos of the staff, Lee Da Hee remained stoic while a girl touched up her makeup.
The actress captured your attention just by standing there; there was no need to move, let alone speak. She was the center of attention.
You were sure she was a professional, a mature woman who probably didn't smell like meat and spices after work.
Kyuhyun placed a hand on your lower back and guided you toward her to make the introductions. His warm touch gave you a little confidence, a dash of courage so you wouldn't feel small in front of her.
"Da Hee," he called to the actress.
As soon as she saw you, her eyes smiled and your stomach twisted inside.
"Kyuhyun, you brought your girlfriend."
"No," you replied quickly, alarmed.
"Yes," he replied at the same time.
"What!?" the three of you shouted, confused.
The play began, and neither Kyuhyun nor you were paying attention to the story.
All you could think about were the many times the singer had shown his affection for you.
All those moments when your coworkers had teased you about your relationship kept playing over and over in your mind.
How had Kyuhyun come to the conclusion that you had gone from being friends to lovers? You didn't know; you were completely unaware of the answer to that question.
It was impossible not to notice the way he looked at you, the times he hugged you longer than usual, or how he said your name with excessive sweetness, put up with your silly teasing and laughed at your comments when they weren't that funny.
Your body was restless, you needed to talk to him, but a theater was the least appropriate place for it.
With your fingers fidgeting on your lap, you shifted in your seat for the umpteenth time.
"Kyuhyun, we need to talk," you whispered, tugging lightly on his coat to get his attention.
Your touch made him jump in his seat.
His heart began to beat as if it wanted to jump out of his chest, his fingers clung to the armrest of the seat, and the air caught in his throat.
The truth was that he couldn't concentrate, not when you denied the relationship you both had. To him, it was clear that you two were a couple.
"Let's talk after the play is over."
Your eyes stared at him as if you had seen a flying pig in the sky. He had never used that tone of voice with you before, never spoken to you so seriously. You had never felt him so... distant.
You crossed your arms, fixed your gaze ahead, and your mind wandered away as you thought of the countless insults and adjectives you could use to describe his behavior.
It wasn't your fault that you both lived in the midst of a misunderstanding.
Perhaps you had been oblivious of his emotions, just maybe too blind to notice that everything he did was intentional and not just because "that was his personality."
Once everyone gave the actors and actresses a standing ovation, your pulse quickened, knowing that the countdown to the awkward little chat with Kyuhyun had begun.
You weren't sure what you wanted to get out of it, maybe a confession, maybe looking like a fool for the third time that day. At that point, anything could happen.
People began making their way toward the theater exit, all commenting on how incredible the musical numbers had been and how well everyone had performed their roles. You had no idea what had happened during all that time.
Kyuhyun's hand took yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he carefully guided you so you wouldn't trip. Despite the annoyance and discomfort, there he was, taking care of you. Protecting you.
The winter cold made you shiver, perhaps the underlying nerves helped in the process, but despite the confusion of the moment, you decided to confront him.
"Kyuhyun, I wanted toβ
"I like you," he confessed over your words.
As soon as the words left his lips, the tension he had felt inside the theater vanished. It was like being released from the stranglehold of an invisible hand.
"I really like you Y/N. Now tell me whatever it was you were going to say. I needed to let you know once and for all."
You blinked several times in confusion, the speech you had devised in the midst of spontaneity had vanished.
The confession had come like a bucket of cold water.
Anything you could say would fall short compared to the whirlwind of emotions inside you.
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" you finally demanded.
When things weren't going well, resorting to annoyance had always been your best option.
"I did it, I shouted it inside your kitchen and everyone laughed because you ignored me."
"Didn't it occur to you to insist?"
"Your cooks told you. They delivered the message and you didn't deny it."
"I didn't accept it either," you grumbled.
It was an endless battle, an argument that would never come to an end.
You couldn't tell him that all this time you had been believing that your colleagues' comments were unfounded mockery.
"And now? Are you going to continue ignoring my feelings?"
You swallowed hard, inhaled with difficulty and parted your lips waiting to give some coherent response, but no sound came out.
Kyuhyun smiled when he saw your reaction.
You just wanted to make a hole in the snow to hide in.
"Come on, chef, I need a quick answer."
"I like you too." The phrase disappeared into the air like a soft sigh.
It hadn't been audible to anyone, and you weren't even sure you had actually said it.
Your cheeks flushed and you closed your eyes as if that would lessen the impact of your words.
"I like you too," you admitted aloud.
The singer smiled and pinched your cheek harder than necessary.
"In case you thought it was a dream."
He laughed again and this time hugged you tightly, as if letting go would make you disappear from the face of the earth.
Smiling, you rested your cheek against his chest allowing the warmth of his body to envelop you. Letting the calm sound of his heart relax the pounding of yours.
You were where you had always been. You were with Kyuhyun, surrounded by his arms, his care, and his affection. As it should be. As it had been until now.
The balladeer rested his chin on top of your head, inhaled, and what he first noticed was the spicy scent of your hair.
A laugh bubbled up in his chest and escaped through his mouth.
"Poor man sitting next to you, you must have made him hungry."
"What are you talking about?"
The confusion in your voice was evident.
Finally, you interrupted the moment by putting some distance between the two of you, waiting for him to explain the origin of his comment.
"Your hair smells like food," he managed to say before laughing again.
Your eyes narrowed before you punched him on the arm.
He wouldn't change, no matter how much he confessed his love for you. You were sure he wouldn't stop teasing you.
A small reminder that requests are open, if you don't feel good sending messages in english, you cand send your request in spanish too (since I can work properly with that language).
If you only wanna fangirling or make any question my messages are open for you too
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming