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Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!
(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)
Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)
You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.
A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.
You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.
And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.
Far away from your home on Earth.
As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.
But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.
You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.
He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.
“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.
“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.
Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.
However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.
Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.
“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.
“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.”
You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored.
The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.
“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.
You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball.
“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.”
“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.
Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second.
He smirks as he catches you staring.
“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment.
“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.
“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.
“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.
“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.
You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.
“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”
★
You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.
There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you.
“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”
They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.
The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.
Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it.
“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.
“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.
“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.
“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.
“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness.
“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”
He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness.
“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.
He continues.
“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”
Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.
He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”
“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”
“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”
As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.
Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.
“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.
“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”
“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”
You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.
“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.
“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”
“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.
“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.
“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.
“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”
“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”
You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.
And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.
Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss.
Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.
A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.
“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”
“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.
You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area.
You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.
Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.
You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.
You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands.
You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth?
Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?
You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.
You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.
“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.
“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.
“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”
You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable.
“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.
Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.
“Hello?!”
“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”
“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”
“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.
“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.
“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.
As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.
“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”
“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.
“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.
“I told you, I'm packing my things.”
“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.
“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”
“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.
“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.
“I was there too. Are you also human?”
“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered.
“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”
“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.
“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”
“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.
“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.
“Why do you wanna know my name?”
“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.
“...What?”
“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”
“That's not what you said.”
“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion.
You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.
You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.
“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.
After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.
You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.
You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.
Your phone rings.
“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”
“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.
“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”
“Please…don't hurt me…”
“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”
“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.
“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”
“What?! No…” You cry.
The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.
You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone.
“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.
Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.
“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.
You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen.
You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.
You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.
He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.
“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”
“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.
And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.
You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.
You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.
“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.
“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.
“Please…”
“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”
“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.
He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.
Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.
You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.
“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess.
Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.
“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.
“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”
“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”
“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.
“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.
“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him.
He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself.
“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically.
“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!”
“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”
“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.
The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way.
“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”
You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears.
“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.”
You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.
“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”
“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.
“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.
“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.
“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!”
“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”
All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.
“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.
“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act.
A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.
“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”
“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.
You feel his gloved hands caress your arms.
“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body.
You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder.
“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved.
What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.
You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.
“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.
“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”
“What? W-what do you mean by that?”
“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do.
“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.
He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.
“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.
Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?
“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?”
“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.
“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”
He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him.
“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.
“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.
“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”
“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.
You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound.
You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.
You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears.
You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is.
There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.
Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.
You cry like a little kid.
You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.
You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.
“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve.
He's the one that hangs up this time.
You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.
He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.
You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.
“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.
He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.
“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.
Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes.
To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.
“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.
They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.
He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.
“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.”
He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.
He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.
He kisses you.
“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.
Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.
The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.
He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.
He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.
The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.
He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.
He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.
Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.
Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.
"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."
Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.
“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”
Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.
“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.
“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”
“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.
Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.
His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.
“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.
He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.
“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”
His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.
“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.
“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.
“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.
He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.
“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.
He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.
You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.
He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.
“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?
“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.
He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.
“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.
“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.
He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.
He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.
You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?
“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.
Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.
Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.
“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.
He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.
“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.
You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.
“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.
His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.
“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.
He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.
He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.
He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.
“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.
“Y-you don't.”
“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”
Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.
You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.
You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.
You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.
He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.
“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”
He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.
“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”
You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.
“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.
He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.
“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.
And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.
“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.
“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.
“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.
“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”
“What will happen now?”
“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”
You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.
He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.
You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.
“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.
“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.
“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.
“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”
Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.
It gives you the chills.
“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.
“My love, my heart, it's over now.”
Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.
“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”
Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.
“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.
You clear your throat to say.
“Yes.”
“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”
Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!
(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)
Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)
You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.
A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.
You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.
And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.
Far away from your home on Earth.
As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.
But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.
You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.
He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.
“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.
“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.
Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.
However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.
Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.
“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.
“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.”
You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored.
The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.
“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.
You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball.
“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.”
“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.
Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second.
He smirks as he catches you staring.
“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment.
“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.
“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.
“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.
“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.
You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.
“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”
★
You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.
There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you.
“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”
They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.
The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.
Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it.
“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.
“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.
“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.
“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.
“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness.
“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”
He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness.
“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.
He continues.
“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”
Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.
He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”
“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”
“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”
As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.
Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.
“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.
“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”
“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”
You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.
“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.
“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”
“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.
“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.
“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.
“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”
“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”
You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.
And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.
Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss.
Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.
A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.
“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”
“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.
You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area.
You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.
Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.
You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.
You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands.
You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth?
Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?
You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.
You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.
“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.
“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.
“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”
You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable.
“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.
Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.
“Hello?!”
“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”
“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”
“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.
“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.
“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.
As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.
“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”
“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.
“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.
“I told you, I'm packing my things.”
“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.
“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”
“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.
“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.
“I was there too. Are you also human?”
“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered.
“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”
“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.
“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”
“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.
“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.
“Why do you wanna know my name?”
“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.
“...What?”
“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”
“That's not what you said.”
“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion.
You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.
You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.
“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.
After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.
You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.
You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.
Your phone rings.
“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”
“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.
“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”
“Please…don't hurt me…”
“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”
“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.
“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”
“What?! No…” You cry.
The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.
You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone.
“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.
Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.
“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.
You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen.
You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.
You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.
He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.
“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”
“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.
And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.
You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.
You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.
“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.
“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.
“Please…”
“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”
“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.
He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.
Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.
You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.
“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess.
Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.
“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.
“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”
“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”
“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.
“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.
“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him.
He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself.
“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically.
“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!”
“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”
“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.
The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way.
“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”
You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears.
“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.”
You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.
“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”
“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.
“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.
“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.
“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!”
“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”
All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.
“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.
“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act.
A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.
“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”
“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.
You feel his gloved hands caress your arms.
“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body.
You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder.
“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved.
What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.
You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.
“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.
“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”
“What? W-what do you mean by that?”
“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do.
“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.
He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.
“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.
Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?
“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?”
“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.
“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”
He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him.
“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.
“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.
“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”
“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.
You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound.
You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.
You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears.
You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is.
There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.
Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.
You cry like a little kid.
You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.
You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.
“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve.
He's the one that hangs up this time.
You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.
He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.
You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.
“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.
He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.
“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.
Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes.
To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.
“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.
They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.
He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.
“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.”
He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.
He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.
He kisses you.
“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.
Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.
The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.
He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.
He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.
The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.
He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.
He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.
Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.
Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.
"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."
Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.
“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”
Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.
“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.
“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”
“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.
Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.
His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.
“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.
He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.
“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”
His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.
“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.
“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.
“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.
He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.
“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.
He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.
You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.
He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.
“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?
“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.
He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.
“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.
“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.
He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.
He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.
You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?
“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.
Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.
Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.
“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.
He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.
“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.
You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.
“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.
His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.
“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.
He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.
He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.
He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.
“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.
“Y-you don't.”
“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”
Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.
You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.
You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.
You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.
He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.
“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”
He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.
“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”
You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.
“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.
He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.
“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.
And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.
“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.
“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.
“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.
“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”
“What will happen now?”
“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”
You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.
He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.
You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.
“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.
“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.
“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.
“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”
Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.
It gives you the chills.
“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.
“My love, my heart, it's over now.”
Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.
“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”
Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.
“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.
You clear your throat to say.
“Yes.”
“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”
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Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!
(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)
Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)
You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.
A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.
You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.
And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.
Far away from your home on Earth.
As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.
But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.
You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.
He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.
“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.
“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.
Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.
However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.
Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.
“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.
“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.”
You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored.
The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.
“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.
You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball.
“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.”
“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.
Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second.
He smirks as he catches you staring.
“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment.
“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.
“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.
“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.
“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.
You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.
“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”
★
You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.
There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you.
“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”
They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.
The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.
Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it.
“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.
“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.
“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.
“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.
“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness.
“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”
He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness.
“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.
He continues.
“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”
Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.
He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”
“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”
“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”
As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.
Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.
“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.
“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”
“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”
You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.
“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.
“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”
“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.
“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.
“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.
“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”
“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”
You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.
And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.
Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss.
Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.
A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.
“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”
“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.
You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area.
You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.
Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.
You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.
You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands.
You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth?
Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?
You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.
You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.
“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.
“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.
“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”
You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable.
“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.
Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.
“Hello?!”
“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”
“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”
“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.
“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.
“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.
As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.
“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”
“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.
“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.
“I told you, I'm packing my things.”
“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.
“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”
“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.
“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.
“I was there too. Are you also human?”
“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered.
“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”
“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.
“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”
“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.
“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.
“Why do you wanna know my name?”
“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.
“...What?”
“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”
“That's not what you said.”
“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion.
You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.
You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.
“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.
After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.
You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.
You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.
Your phone rings.
“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”
“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.
“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”
“Please…don't hurt me…”
“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”
“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.
“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”
“What?! No…” You cry.
The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.
You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone.
“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.
Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.
“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.
You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen.
You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.
You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.
He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.
“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”
“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.
And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.
You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.
You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.
“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.
“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.
“Please…”
“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”
“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.
He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.
Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.
You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.
“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess.
Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.
“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.
“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”
“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”
“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.
“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.
“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him.
He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself.
“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically.
“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!”
“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”
“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.
The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way.
“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”
You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears.
“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.”
You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.
“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”
“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.
“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.
“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.
“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!”
“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”
All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.
“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.
“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act.
A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.
“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”
“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.
You feel his gloved hands caress your arms.
“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body.
You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder.
“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved.
What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.
You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.
“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.
“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”
“What? W-what do you mean by that?”
“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do.
“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.
He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.
“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.
Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?
“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?”
“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.
“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”
He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him.
“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.
“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.
“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”
“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.
You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound.
You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.
You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears.
You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is.
There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.
Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.
You cry like a little kid.
You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.
You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.
“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve.
He's the one that hangs up this time.
You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.
He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.
You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.
“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.
He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.
“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.
Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes.
To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.
“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.
They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.
He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.
“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.”
He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.
He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.
He kisses you.
“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.
Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.
The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.
He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.
He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.
The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.
He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.
He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.
Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.
Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.
"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."
Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.
“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”
Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.
“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.
“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”
“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.
Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.
His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.
“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.
He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.
“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”
His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.
“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.
“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.
“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.
He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.
“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.
He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.
You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.
He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.
“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?
“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.
He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.
“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.
“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.
He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.
He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.
You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?
“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.
Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.
Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.
“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.
He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.
“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.
You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.
“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.
His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.
“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.
He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.
He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.
He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.
“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.
“Y-you don't.”
“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”
Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.
You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.
You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.
You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.
He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.
“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”
He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.
“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”
You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.
“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.
He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.
“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.
And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.
“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.
“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.
“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.
“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”
“What will happen now?”
“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”
You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.
He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.
You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.
“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.
“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.
“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.
“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”
Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.
It gives you the chills.
“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.
“My love, my heart, it's over now.”
Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.
“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”
Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.
“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.
You clear your throat to say.
“Yes.”
“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”
I have to admit in the beginning I kept laughing to myself, just remembering all the scenes - but the Scary Movie version because I watched that so often when I was a teenager 😂😂
You did manage to turn that around though, this got pretty intense and chilling 🫣 I have yet to decide if I was feeling more shaken or aroused while reading 😆🔥
HAHAHA the scary movie versionnn I watched it so long ago too!! It's pretty funny I don't blame you it's a classic
And thank you 🫣💞 I do think all the ghostfaces from the movie are incredibly delusional so I tried to get the scary part and add to give something more intense (especially knowing nothing will happen to Loki even after all of this)
Also this is a plus for my mask kink, and the game of cat and mouse from trying to escape from him 🫢
Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!
(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)
Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)
You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.
A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.
You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.
And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.
Far away from your home on Earth.
As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.
But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.
You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.
He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.
“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.
“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.
Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.
However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.
Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.
“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.
“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.”
You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored.
The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.
“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.
You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball.
“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.”
“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.
Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second.
He smirks as he catches you staring.
“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment.
“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.
“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.
“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.
“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.
You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.
“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”
★
You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.
There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you.
“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”
They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.
The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.
Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it.
“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.
“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.
“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.
“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.
“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness.
“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”
He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness.
“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.
He continues.
“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”
Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.
He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”
“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”
“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”
As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.
Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.
“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.
“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”
“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”
You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.
“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.
“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”
“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.
“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.
“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.
“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”
“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”
You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.
And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.
Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss.
Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.
A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.
“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”
“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.
You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area.
You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.
Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.
You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.
You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands.
You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth?
Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?
You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.
You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.
“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.
“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.
“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”
You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable.
“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.
Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.
“Hello?!”
“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”
“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”
“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.
“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.
“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.
As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.
“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”
“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.
“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.
“I told you, I'm packing my things.”
“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.
“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”
“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.
“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.
“I was there too. Are you also human?”
“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered.
“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”
“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.
“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”
“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.
“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.
“Why do you wanna know my name?”
“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.
“...What?”
“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”
“That's not what you said.”
“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion.
You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.
You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.
“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.
After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.
You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.
You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.
Your phone rings.
“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”
“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.
“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”
“Please…don't hurt me…”
“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”
“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.
“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”
“What?! No…” You cry.
The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.
You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone.
“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.
Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.
“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.
You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen.
You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.
You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.
He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.
“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”
“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.
And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.
You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.
You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.
“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.
“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.
“Please…”
“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”
“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.
He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.
Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.
You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.
“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess.
Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.
“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.
“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”
“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”
“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.
“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.
“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him.
He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself.
“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically.
“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!”
“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”
“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.
The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way.
“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”
You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears.
“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.”
You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.
“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”
“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.
“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.
“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.
“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!”
“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”
All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.
“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.
“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act.
A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.
“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”
“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.
You feel his gloved hands caress your arms.
“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body.
You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder.
“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved.
What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.
You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.
“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.
“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”
“What? W-what do you mean by that?”
“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do.
“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.
He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.
“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.
Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?
“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?”
“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.
“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”
He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him.
“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.
“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.
“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”
“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.
You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound.
You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.
You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears.
You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is.
There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.
Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.
You cry like a little kid.
You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.
You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.
“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve.
He's the one that hangs up this time.
You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.
He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.
You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.
“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.
He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.
“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.
Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes.
To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.
“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.
They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.
He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.
“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.”
He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.
He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.
He kisses you.
“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.
Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.
The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.
He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.
He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.
The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.
He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.
He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.
Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.
Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.
"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."
Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.
“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”
Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.
“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.
“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”
“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.
Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.
His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.
“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.
He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.
“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”
His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.
“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.
“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.
“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.
He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.
“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.
He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.
You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.
He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.
“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?
“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.
He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.
“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.
“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.
He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.
He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.
You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?
“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.
Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.
Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.
“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.
He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.
“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.
You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.
“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.
His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.
“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.
He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.
He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.
He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.
“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.
“Y-you don't.”
“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”
Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.
You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.
You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.
You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.
He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.
“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”
He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.
“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”
You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.
“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.
He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.
“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.
And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.
“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.
“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.
“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.
“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”
“What will happen now?”
“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”
You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.
He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.
You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.
“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.
“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.
“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.
“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”
Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.
It gives you the chills.
“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.
“My love, my heart, it's over now.”
Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.
“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”
Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.
“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.
You clear your throat to say.
“Yes.”
“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”
Loki x reader — sick!fic, established relantionship.
No warnings, just fluff and comfort.
Loki takes care of you when you're sick and makes sure you feel better. He's really soft.
“I feel disgusting,” you say. The words coming out slurred as you struggled to breathe with your congested nose.
“Darling?” Loki asks, concerned. “Can I do anything to help?”
You don't want him to see you like this, in fact, you've been trying to ignore your sickness for a long time.
You feel useless, you don't want to exist, the only acceptable thing to your mind is the thought of going to sleep, the aching pressure around your eyes begs to be closed. You're almost crying from shame.
“Darling,” Loki reaches around you, embracing his arms around your figure, even as you protest, he lifts you up in his arms. “You can't work like this. I know you're sick.” He watches your puffy face, all due to your crying and sneezing.
“No, I'm not, I'm okay,” your voice rough as you lie, fighting not to cough with your pained throat. “I'm not sick, I can do things just fine.”
He still keeps you there, now making sure your face rests against his shoulder as he takes you to the kitchen, already preparing some tea for you two.
“Have you taken some medicine?” He asks and you keep your face hidden, ignoring the question. “You didn't?
“Don't be mad…” You begin.
“Why would I be mad, darling? Why would you not take your meds?”
“I don't wanna be sick, and I didn't know which ones to take, I took a pill but it didn't have any effect so I thought I'd just wait some more.” You're scared you'll sound pathetic to that, but Loki only rubs your back gently.
Loki could sense the effort it took for you to talk, he keeps a concerned look on you as you only rest further to his chest.
This is better, he thinks. She's accepting my help. My love.
Loki had a secret under his sleeve that could work, he could apply his healing magic to your tea — the magic his mother would give to both him and Thor when they got sick, on their younger days, the spell she taught him.
He remembers those days with nostalgic care, he keeps them in the depths of his heart for when his mind needs some kind memories, these parts are specially occupied with you, now. He misses his mother, but he can express the love he received in a new way.
You're shivering under his hands, so he conjures your fluffy, heavy blanket for you, covering you till your neck.
He makes a mental reminder to prepare a warm bath as it's early in the evening, it'd help you feel better, and then he'd make sure you wear some warm clothes so you don't get any fevers.
“Love?” He asks you, your eyes are fighting to stay open but they're moist with tears from the cold.
“Can't breathe,” you whine a bit in pain, closing your eyes and trying to rest but feeling the strong pang in your head.
“I'll make it feel better, love. I'm here,” He tells you, giving you a kiss. He was glad your temperature was normal as he felt it against his skin.
You cringe as his lips touch yours. “Don't kiss me… I'm gross,” your voice goes whinier than you wish for again, which he finds adorable.
“You can't pass me anything, my love. I'm a frost giant, I wouldn't get sick with mortal germs.” He gives you a kiss again.
“But I'm still gross though.”
“I could never find you anything close to gross, when I see you like this, I only wish to nurture you back to health, and make sure you're safe and loved, just as you deserve.” You try to hide your smile against his chest now, he can feel it, and it makes him beam with pride at making you feel a little better. “I hate to see you unwell.”
The tea is ready, he turns your body a little in his arms so you're facing the teapot as he makes two cups for both of you.
He makes sure you see the green sparkles leaving his hands as he puts your tea.
“I hope I'm making this right,” he blushes. “It's the spell our mother would pour on our teas when we were children, Thor thought it was disgusting.”
“Very good, really,” you joke around, smiling at him. “One of the few opinions I have, and little Thor thought it was disgusting.”
Loki gives you a tight lipped smile, but still smiles with his eyes too. He shakes his head.
“I think the magic is flavorless, the problem was just that Thor never really liked tea, and we just discovered a long time after,” he smiles at you. “So, my love, as I know you like this tea, I make sure everything is safe and good to your tastes.” He chuckles and you feel his chest move with the sound.
So you stay there, in his arms, watching his magic with a certain wonder, you'd never tire from this, he always loves the way you look at his magic, the way you look at him. It was never about the magic powers he carries, but the way you're the only person to look at him while he does it and appreciate him, just him, you like it when he does anything, you're the only one to look at him with this clear admiration your eyes always hold for him.
He quietly begins to hum a song for your ears, carrying you to the couch.
You move to take the tea and drink it.
Loki touches your temple, he makes his fingers blue and —consequently, a little colder, just enough for your body to accept, reaching your forehead and keeping it there as you sip your tea.
He notices you're going quieter, just appreciating his acts, not really forcing yourself to speak anymore. He's glad, it makes him happy to see your body sliding slightly closer to him with each sip, probably almost too sleepy to notice.
He conjures you the correct medicine, and you take it. With him kissing your forehead as you do so, like a little reward.
“I'd never shame you for being sick, you know,” He says, breaking the silence of the room. “I never want to see you feeling like you can't tell me again, even as your body starts to feel weak, even if the symptoms are just starting, tell me.”
“I will. I'm sorry.”
“I'm not mad,” he reinforces, quickly booping your nose, gently smiling at you. You stay quiet, he accepts that.
“How about a bath now?” The tea was warm like a balm to your throat.
You don't respond but complain with sounds of disapproval at having to move from the comfort of the couch, from under the cozy blanket.
“You'll feel better,” he comforts you, caressing your skin as he speaks in a low tone so as not to hurt your head. “I promise, just trust me.”
He wraps his strong arms around your legs to push your entire body close to his, gluing you to him as he calmly princess-carries you to the bathroom. Patiently taking the time to hold you as he magically —to be quicker— makes the water warm enough for you and your tired body.
He helps you through the bath, bringing some things to make the bath time more relaxing like different soaps and a pink bath bomb.
“Bath bomb?” You laugh a little, glad the stinging in your head stopped a bit. You point to the product he held.
“It's fun, and I'm not used to these midgardian bath entertainments.” He gives you a kind smile and allows the comfort to surround you two as you take the bath together.
He carefully washes your hair for you, massaging your scalp, hoping to show all his love through his fingertips and gentle caresses.
He moves down to your shoulders, your neck, pressing a bit harder in certain spots, then he slides down to your back with tender care. You hold your breath, and leave some moans of delight as your aching body feels the blessed touch.
“Are you feeling better, love?” He asks, you hum to agree, not wanting to ruin the moment. He muffles a laugh and keeps his loving touches.
Loki runs his hands across the other parts of your body with extra patience and passion, ignoring how sexual it could seem, he knows you're not wishing for it now. He still keeps a longer time washing you, and pressing his hands on your breasts, your chest, your stomach. Brushing among your thighs, anywhere he could show his love and feel your skin close to his.
He kisses your jawline, and moves your head a little to kiss you. The whole time was filled with loving little kisses, some all across your face, some on your lips as he couldn't have enough of your mouth, or enough of you.
The bath makes you feel clean and relaxed, you're allowing yourself to finally succumb to the peaceful affection he's showing you. It's almost overwhelming, you never thought you could have something like this, neither did he.
When the bath's over, Loki exits first to grab a fluffy, dry towel to wrap your body on. You got up and he immediately wrapped you in so you wouldn't face the brutal chilly air of getting out of the bath.
He takes you to the bedroom, your clothes are already on the bed. You tremble to think of removing the towel and facing the cold, but Loki makes sure that doesn't happen.
He puts you on a cozy green sweater, kissing your clothed chest as he's finished. Matching the sweater, he puts on you some warm pajama pants, then proceeds to kiss your stomach.
He puts your socks on you, and gives a kiss to each of your ankles, almost reverently. Looking up at you with wonder, rubbing your legs. You almost weep at the sight, feeling overly emotional.
After he's sure you're warm, he lets you decide on what to do next. You just want to sleep.
He turns off the lights of the house, and dims the one by the bedside table. He reaches for his book, this is one he's been reading without you, he thinks it's a bit too uninteresting to be shared, but now it might fit perfectly for the purpose of getting you to sleep.
You two created a habit of sharing your stories together, you love to sit around while he just reads for you. And whenever you read a story you really like, you get extra giddy to tell him every single detail about it, he loves it when you do so.
He knows how much you love his voice, and in moments like this, in which you need less loud noises, you can't help but pay even more attention to how soft his voice is as he speaks. You could listen to it for days, and thankfully, you can really listen to it all day, for days, he's yours.
He cozies you two under the sheets, the only light being the one by his side, so he can read to you, he makes sure it doesn't bother your eyes.
He holds your body on top of his, keeping a light hold not to pressure your skin, allowing you to rest your head on his neck, unbothered by the little sniffles of the remains of your sickness. He'll make sure to check some more spells later —unharming to humans, to be certain you get even better health soon after you drift off to sleep.
“I love you,” you say. He stiffens a little because it comes unexpectedly, then he relaxes. After all this time, Loki's still unused to these words.
He still gets surprised.
His expression softens and he can only hope you feel all the love radiating off of him.
“I love you, darling. Now rest, you'll feel better as soon as you wake up.”
He begins reading to you from where he stopped, taking pauses a few times to explain some details to you, quietly. You pay attention to the sound of his voice, and his chest moving under you with each word he speaks, until you drift off to a comfortable night of sleep.
This is my apology for not having posted anything this week because I, once again, got sick, so I wrote this! Oh to have a Loki taking care of me.
I hope it can bring some comfort to you all!
Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101 (I don't know if it's ok to tag in a sick!fic but it's ok if you don't feel comfortable with it ♡)
Loki x reader — sick!fic, established relantionship.
No warnings, just fluff and comfort.
Loki takes care of you when you're sick and makes sure you feel better. He's really soft.
“I feel disgusting,” you say. The words coming out slurred as you struggled to breathe with your congested nose.
“Darling?” Loki asks, concerned. “Can I do anything to help?”
You don't want him to see you like this, in fact, you've been trying to ignore your sickness for a long time.
You feel useless, you don't want to exist, the only acceptable thing to your mind is the thought of going to sleep, the aching pressure around your eyes begs to be closed. You're almost crying from shame.
“Darling,” Loki reaches around you, embracing his arms around your figure, even as you protest, he lifts you up in his arms. “You can't work like this. I know you're sick.” He watches your puffy face, all due to your crying and sneezing.
“No, I'm not, I'm okay,” your voice rough as you lie, fighting not to cough with your pained throat. “I'm not sick, I can do things just fine.”
He still keeps you there, now making sure your face rests against his shoulder as he takes you to the kitchen, already preparing some tea for you two.
“Have you taken some medicine?” He asks and you keep your face hidden, ignoring the question. “You didn't?
“Don't be mad…” You begin.
“Why would I be mad, darling? Why would you not take your meds?”
“I don't wanna be sick, and I didn't know which ones to take, I took a pill but it didn't have any effect so I thought I'd just wait some more.” You're scared you'll sound pathetic to that, but Loki only rubs your back gently.
Loki could sense the effort it took for you to talk, he keeps a concerned look on you as you only rest further to his chest.
This is better, he thinks. She's accepting my help. My love.
Loki had a secret under his sleeve that could work, he could apply his healing magic to your tea — the magic his mother would give to both him and Thor when they got sick, on their younger days, the spell she taught him.
He remembers those days with nostalgic care, he keeps them in the depths of his heart for when his mind needs some kind memories, these parts are specially occupied with you, now. He misses his mother, but he can express the love he received in a new way.
You're shivering under his hands, so he conjures your fluffy, heavy blanket for you, covering you till your neck.
He makes a mental reminder to prepare a warm bath as it's early in the evening, it'd help you feel better, and then he'd make sure you wear some warm clothes so you don't get any fevers.
“Love?” He asks you, your eyes are fighting to stay open but they're moist with tears from the cold.
“Can't breathe,” you whine a bit in pain, closing your eyes and trying to rest but feeling the strong pang in your head.
“I'll make it feel better, love. I'm here,” He tells you, giving you a kiss. He was glad your temperature was normal as he felt it against his skin.
You cringe as his lips touch yours. “Don't kiss me… I'm gross,” your voice goes whinier than you wish for again, which he finds adorable.
“You can't pass me anything, my love. I'm a frost giant, I wouldn't get sick with mortal germs.” He gives you a kiss again.
“But I'm still gross though.”
“I could never find you anything close to gross, when I see you like this, I only wish to nurture you back to health, and make sure you're safe and loved, just as you deserve.” You try to hide your smile against his chest now, he can feel it, and it makes him beam with pride at making you feel a little better. “I hate to see you unwell.”
The tea is ready, he turns your body a little in his arms so you're facing the teapot as he makes two cups for both of you.
He makes sure you see the green sparkles leaving his hands as he puts your tea.
“I hope I'm making this right,” he blushes. “It's the spell our mother would pour on our teas when we were children, Thor thought it was disgusting.”
“Very good, really,” you joke around, smiling at him. “One of the few opinions I have, and little Thor thought it was disgusting.”
Loki gives you a tight lipped smile, but still smiles with his eyes too. He shakes his head.
“I think the magic is flavorless, the problem was just that Thor never really liked tea, and we just discovered a long time after,” he smiles at you. “So, my love, as I know you like this tea, I make sure everything is safe and good to your tastes.” He chuckles and you feel his chest move with the sound.
So you stay there, in his arms, watching his magic with a certain wonder, you'd never tire from this, he always loves the way you look at his magic, the way you look at him. It was never about the magic powers he carries, but the way you're the only person to look at him while he does it and appreciate him, just him, you like it when he does anything, you're the only one to look at him with this clear admiration your eyes always hold for him.
He quietly begins to hum a song for your ears, carrying you to the couch.
You move to take the tea and drink it.
Loki touches your temple, he makes his fingers blue and —consequently, a little colder, just enough for your body to accept, reaching your forehead and keeping it there as you sip your tea.
He notices you're going quieter, just appreciating his acts, not really forcing yourself to speak anymore. He's glad, it makes him happy to see your body sliding slightly closer to him with each sip, probably almost too sleepy to notice.
He conjures you the correct medicine, and you take it. With him kissing your forehead as you do so, like a little reward.
“I'd never shame you for being sick, you know,” He says, breaking the silence of the room. “I never want to see you feeling like you can't tell me again, even as your body starts to feel weak, even if the symptoms are just starting, tell me.”
“I will. I'm sorry.”
“I'm not mad,” he reinforces, quickly booping your nose, gently smiling at you. You stay quiet, he accepts that.
“How about a bath now?” The tea was warm like a balm to your throat.
You don't respond but complain with sounds of disapproval at having to move from the comfort of the couch, from under the cozy blanket.
“You'll feel better,” he comforts you, caressing your skin as he speaks in a low tone so as not to hurt your head. “I promise, just trust me.”
He wraps his strong arms around your legs to push your entire body close to his, gluing you to him as he calmly princess-carries you to the bathroom. Patiently taking the time to hold you as he magically —to be quicker— makes the water warm enough for you and your tired body.
He helps you through the bath, bringing some things to make the bath time more relaxing like different soaps and a pink bath bomb.
“Bath bomb?” You laugh a little, glad the stinging in your head stopped a bit. You point to the product he held.
“It's fun, and I'm not used to these midgardian bath entertainments.” He gives you a kind smile and allows the comfort to surround you two as you take the bath together.
He carefully washes your hair for you, massaging your scalp, hoping to show all his love through his fingertips and gentle caresses.
He moves down to your shoulders, your neck, pressing a bit harder in certain spots, then he slides down to your back with tender care. You hold your breath, and leave some moans of delight as your aching body feels the blessed touch.
“Are you feeling better, love?” He asks, you hum to agree, not wanting to ruin the moment. He muffles a laugh and keeps his loving touches.
Loki runs his hands across the other parts of your body with extra patience and passion, ignoring how sexual it could seem, he knows you're not wishing for it now. He still keeps a longer time washing you, and pressing his hands on your breasts, your chest, your stomach. Brushing among your thighs, anywhere he could show his love and feel your skin close to his.
He kisses your jawline, and moves your head a little to kiss you. The whole time was filled with loving little kisses, some all across your face, some on your lips as he couldn't have enough of your mouth, or enough of you.
The bath makes you feel clean and relaxed, you're allowing yourself to finally succumb to the peaceful affection he's showing you. It's almost overwhelming, you never thought you could have something like this, neither did he.
When the bath's over, Loki exits first to grab a fluffy, dry towel to wrap your body on. You got up and he immediately wrapped you in so you wouldn't face the brutal chilly air of getting out of the bath.
He takes you to the bedroom, your clothes are already on the bed. You tremble to think of removing the towel and facing the cold, but Loki makes sure that doesn't happen.
He puts you on a cozy green sweater, kissing your clothed chest as he's finished. Matching the sweater, he puts on you some warm pajama pants, then proceeds to kiss your stomach.
He puts your socks on you, and gives a kiss to each of your ankles, almost reverently. Looking up at you with wonder, rubbing your legs. You almost weep at the sight, feeling overly emotional.
After he's sure you're warm, he lets you decide on what to do next. You just want to sleep.
He turns off the lights of the house, and dims the one by the bedside table. He reaches for his book, this is one he's been reading without you, he thinks it's a bit too uninteresting to be shared, but now it might fit perfectly for the purpose of getting you to sleep.
You two created a habit of sharing your stories together, you love to sit around while he just reads for you. And whenever you read a story you really like, you get extra giddy to tell him every single detail about it, he loves it when you do so.
He knows how much you love his voice, and in moments like this, in which you need less loud noises, you can't help but pay even more attention to how soft his voice is as he speaks. You could listen to it for days, and thankfully, you can really listen to it all day, for days, he's yours.
He cozies you two under the sheets, the only light being the one by his side, so he can read to you, he makes sure it doesn't bother your eyes.
He holds your body on top of his, keeping a light hold not to pressure your skin, allowing you to rest your head on his neck, unbothered by the little sniffles of the remains of your sickness. He'll make sure to check some more spells later —unharming to humans, to be certain you get even better health soon after you drift off to sleep.
“I love you,” you say. He stiffens a little because it comes unexpectedly, then he relaxes. After all this time, Loki's still unused to these words.
He still gets surprised.
His expression softens and he can only hope you feel all the love radiating off of him.
“I love you, darling. Now rest, you'll feel better as soon as you wake up.”
He begins reading to you from where he stopped, taking pauses a few times to explain some details to you, quietly. You pay attention to the sound of his voice, and his chest moving under you with each word he speaks, until you drift off to a comfortable night of sleep.
This is my apology for not having posted anything this week because I, once again, got sick, so I wrote this! Oh to have a Loki taking care of me.
I hope it can bring some comfort to you all!
Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101 (I don't know if it's ok to tag in a sick!fic but it's ok if you don't feel comfortable with it ♡)
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Summary: A lot of smut following, a bit of angst as they'll fight later on. Is there anything suspicious about the Angel?
Warnings: Smut!! Blasphemy, alcohol, fighting, (physical aggression, scratching) improper use of magic, slapping, verbal insults, screaming, probably a bit of voyeurism, (but not really? Loki's pretty possessive, he's just really mad) hate-sex, rough fuck, mean Loki.
“Not the shoes!” Thor exclaimed scandalously as he watched the scene.
Loki makes a disgusted sound with his throat, stepping carefully and processing the fact there was demon vomit on his new, expensive, on-brand shoes. Messily, as he's still groggy with all the alcohol on his system, he lifts his hand up the air and magically removes the offending substance off his shoes.
“Be careful next time.” He harshly commands, but you're still dizzy and fighting to remain steady, trembling on your feet, his eyes soften as he sees your state. “Is it better now? Do you need to go somewhere?” He asks and receives no answer from you.
“You've never really enjoyed my presence, have you?” The Angel speaks up. It's weird to see you looking so small. “And the first impression I have of you after all these years is of you throwing up, your body has gotten weak.” The Angel repulsively spits out, you refuse to look at him and pull an extremely confused Loki by his arms, dragging him out of there.
You two get together inside a tiny, hidden, locked room. Loki restlessly demands information of the angel who just appeared to ruin your party.
“Fuck it, I shouldn't have allowed myself to drink so much.” You put your hands on your head, feeling the stinging sensation.
“It was fun while it lasted, you have to admit.”
“You just liked seeing me lose control.” You bring up, still not looking at him.
“You always have control of everything.” He points out.
“Do I?” You smirk knowingly, licking your lips at his attitude. He looked all disheveled and your sudden unquietness within yourself made you want to explode. “Damn it, just take your fucking clothes off.”
“Excuse me?” He blinks and gapes a bit, looking stupid, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. He takes off his shoes, and his hands jump to unfasten his shirt but he just hesitates until you say it again.
“You heard me, take them off.” You say and push his chest until his back lays against the soft, foreign bed. “Do you want me to do it for you?” You were out of patience and reaching to straddle his body beneath yours.
He gulps and proceeds to do as you say, fighting to take his shirt off his torso as quickly as possible, resisting the temptation to lift his hand and touch your skin after he's shirtless. He just keeps them there up beyond his reach.
Oh.
He's keeping his hands to himself, up his head, presenting his body to you. You give a diabolic smile that shows your pointy teeth, as you're close to salivating at the sight of his muscular pecs exposing his heavy breathing and very very warm sweat speckling down his skin.
You lean forward closer to his face, locking eyes with him, just to close your fingers around each of his wrists. Keeping it there lifted now with full control, just like he wanted, his pupils are dark and his eyes so pleasing you're starting to think you're drunk on something else.
He groans, closing his eyes in response from the pleasure of you squeezing his skin tight as you suffocate his senses with your body practically glued to his.
“Fuck.” It's all you can muster, you never could have guessed drunk-you would be so lacking for words. Maybe it's just his intoxicating aroma deafening your senses.
“Demoness,” he puts himself through a test and tries to let go of your hands. He succeeds and gives you a very bright malicious smile. “You temptress,” His eyes sparkle with malice as he hungrily watches your body burn under his fingertips. “My mistress bathed in sin.”
His hands snake down your skin and you allow it, for now. He's still smiling and still licking his lips at the sight of you on top of him. The moment stops for you as you notice his eyes sparkle a bit more as he admires.
Then he turns you around and pins you under his body, with all the pressure he can apply. And you try to squirm out but it's like his body is made of iron with how heavy he is on top of you, locking you beneath him.
His hellish amusement is there and now you grunt out to the air.
“I allowed it,” you brag.
“Of course you did, you're just a horny stupid little thing, aren't you?” You get red from his words, but he doesn't relent, and he can sense you're starting to shake a little. “You'd let me do all the work.”
“You can't–”
“Can't what?” His hips grind against yours, both of you still clothed but craving, dying for the friction. “Can't what? You brought me here, wouldn't want to ruin the party for me, would you, little one? No…” He runs his mouth down the skin of your neck to your breasts, and his cold breath is making you shiver. “No, you have something to give me.” He almost orders. And you spread your leg a little wider in invitation, he pulls your dress up and his hands start kneading your ass.
Your teeth are gritted in response to his degrading words. But you just swallow your defenses, both of your dizzy drunken brains managing to make the situation much simpler as you just allow him to take control.
He is visibly excited for this, preparing you with his touching, delighting on your sounds and huffs of pleasure, “Are you okay? Is this okay?” he frowns a bit as he remembers, waiting patiently as you can read the underlying question: do you truly want this? Are you sober?
Your heart palpitates faster, your gaze is dazzled with wonder, noticeable for a while, as you stare into his questioning but patient eyes. You're okay, you know you are, but you're more than pleased to know he's a man of morals even when you can feel how horny he is, pulsing against the skin of your thighs.
Also, it's not very often that you see gods being morally correct. Or not just caring about themselves, if there's one thing you've been impressed with since the beginning, it's about how Loki, somehow, always cares for you, even when he pretends he doesn't.
“I'm ok, it's ok.” You consent, nodding a little, and wait a moment in silence. “Are you ok?”
He seems lost while gazing hungrily at your body, his mouth open as he unconsciously unleashes his breathing. Grasping you a bit too hard around your hips, he looks into your eyes again. “Yes, yes I am.”
It's the last thing you hear before he dives between your thighs, looking feral as he admires your glistening pussy, he silently wonders if he's been bewitched, for he felt starved from your delicious cunt and it's only been an hour —if he still remembers properly. But damn it now, he doesn't care about anything else but you and your scent, poisoning his system.
He curses a Nordic profounity, “Fuck, fuck. Demoness, you're killing me now, I'm sure of it. You're poisoning me,” he states and you push him to eat you out, forcing his words to an end as you smile up to the ceiling so adoringly, feeling his skilled tongue pleasing you.
“I wouldn't kill you,” You breathe out shaking. Soon you wouldn't be able to even feel your legs as they're numbing from overstimulation, your body recalling the early hours of the party. You moan loudly as you jolt from the thought and from Loki's tongue hitting your sweet spot.
When he pulls out, there's your essence tainting his lips, you curse out to all the princes of Hell. They could be damned now, you'd let this god do anything to you, if kept looking at you like you carry the whole world, eating you out like you're the best thing his lips ever tasted.
Loki keeps your thighs well spread out for him, giving a kiss to your stomach, and your heart waves at the soft touch. That was so cute, to you. He keeps kissing and licking the area, giving small bites at times when noticed you got too ticklish, or squirmed more under his touch.
When his body went up his kisses came too, and you felt the head of his cock move up and down to drown in your juices, coming close to your clit just to tease and moving down, slowly again.
“L-Loki,” You wave, quivering under his ferocious gaze. He licked his lips as he watched you like you're his last meal. His hand lands on your lower back. ”Please,” you gulp dumbly as you watch him. “Just fuck me.”
“Ask nicely.” He teases more, his hand close to holding you down by your neck. You whimper as you feel the head of his cock entering you, he takes a deep breath to keep his ground as he awaits your begging. Almost unable to contain himself, his jaw clenched and hands twitching, hurting your skin but you don't mind.
You force yourself to swallow your pride. Rolling your eyes a bit too harshly before feeling him pulling out and entering more of his cock into your sensitive cunt, you're unused to the size and your walls are stretched with a tad discomfort. He chuckles.
“Do you feel pain, little slut? Who would've thought, a dirty demon like you.” He cruelly mentions your visible, slight discomfort. Mocking.
You tilt your head to him, clenched jaw but pleading eyes still wanting to feel more of him despite the pain, the need to feel him deep inside you needing to be scratched.
“Please,” you keep going, jaw still clenched, you can pinpoint submissiveness to the alcohol, later. For now, you want him, all of him. “Please, please, please. Give me your cock.” Your hands clench around his shoulders as you bring him closer, he grants you your wish.
Your knees have given out and you feel helpless for the first time in so long, your whole body was pinned against him as he speared into you with such a furious intensity, getting so deep you gasped in utter surprise. His hands around your neck and a whispered sign down your earlobe to “Keep begging me,” and you're at a loss, babbling the sound of his name and the word 'please'.
He reaches around to touch your clit, matching his unforgiving pace, picking up his speed as he groans feeling you clench around him so deliciously. Small yelps left your throat with each of his harsh thrusts, you're a mess as your back arches closer to his chest.
His hand moves to hold your back carefully as he keeps heavily grunting onto your ear, his breathing deep and low voice demanding of your pleasure. He harshly grasps your skin with his nails, you scratch his back together from all the pressure hitting your sensitive cunt.
As he massages your clit, it makes you jolt under his touch with each stroke. His thrusts becoming more and more animalistic, brutal, he rams into you, your whole body is shaking roughly with his brutish pounding.
You can barely hear your own moaning as Loki fills all of your senses, he is everything you touch and his growls and grunts are all you hear. You two fill the quiet room with the sound of sex and moaning.
“Look at you,” he gloats. “You were so insistent upon not looking inferior, now you tremble beneath me.” He gives a slow, harsh thrust, to emphasize his point, your eyes roll and your mouth opens, almost drooling. “Pray to me.”
His words come out rough and too low timbre. your whole body shivers and your core tightens, burning from his words alone, he gets so fast-paced with his pounding you can't even catch a breath.
“W-w-wh-what?” You ask among his savage rhythm. Your mouth is in the shape of an 'O' as he pulls out only to slip even further inside you, if that's possible.
“You heard me,” He messily moves his hand from your back to pull your hair. It makes you remember the other time, when he refused to sleep with you. You give him a shameless, taunting smile.
He yanks your hair locking eyes with you, a deep moan escapes your lips in response. “Pray to me. Pray, and this God might save your devious soul. I'm the only God you have to think of.”
Little does he know, —although he should — but you don't have a soul to be saved. It's not like you're going to correct him now.
Your head moves back and forth mixing with his body smashing against your flesh, you don't fear the dizziness that'll install later, his fucking making you completely mindless.
You gulp and sob out, your brain struggling to remember how to speak through the fogginess of pleasure.
“In-In- nomine Patris, et- Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,” you start, broken Latin as you fight to remember what the prayers are—those that make your skin burn with their Grace— his punishing pounding getting worse and more frantic as your praying comes to life.
“T-t-tu es qu-qui jaces in-in-in Coelis, gratia plena,” your voice is trembling, fighting to keep the tone alive. You sob your tears from the sensitivity blinding your sight through the sinful act. The blasphemy drowning you, filling the pits of your stomach. “i-in omnibus nobis omnia praesens, omnium salvator.” You spit out the end, locking eyes with him.
“Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra–” You trip over your words as he starts sucking and biting your neck.
He furiously rubs his hand against your clit. His voice strained to say the next words, his breaking point coming present as he pronounces all his Asgardian splendor.
“C-come, come now. Kom for meg, min lille djevel.” You scream and spasm around him, clutching all you can grab of him, wanting to feel as much as possible. You see stars as you cum around him, shaking, the squelching sound so sinful reaching your ears.
Loki growls near your jawline, his thrusts getting slack as he's closer to completion. He shudders, you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, filling you full with his warm cum.
Loki's breaths are labored as his thrusting slows down, riding his orgasm. When he pulls out, there's the trace of semen tainting your skin and trickling down your thighs.
You're panting heavily as he pulls you closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, he leans forward to kiss you. You didn't even get to catch a breath as he changes your position and deepens the kiss.
You felt your body aching from the sex, your head was spinning from the damned alcohol you had last night. As much as it hurts to feel some pins and needles, you still had the new — horrifying—experience to feel human.
You don't know how you feel about that.
Lifting yourself as quickly as possible to hurry to the bathroom, as you feel nauseated, you suddenly remember your conditions and physically recoil from agony and disgust of yourself.
Throwing up? You've allowed yourself to throw up? Especially in front of your 'brother'? At a party filled with humans?
Outrageous, gross. You want to kill your human form and remove the skin to stop from feeling so dirty and humane. But all you can express outloud is a sincere grunt of annoyance, grabbing the skin of your stomach.
It takes some time, you arrive at the bathroom and contain your vomiting, using your magic to stop the sickness and the lightheadedness, throwing up now would make you simply refuse to exist.
It takes time for you to notice Loki's not in the room.
You take a look at the place, analyzing every detail you didn't notice before. And hurry to get out of there and find Loki.
You end up bumping into him as you walk out of that strange room, he looks you up and down, his mind rushes through the thoughts of your well-being, then he seems to put himself together. Clearing his throat.
His mind rushed through a series of nightmares he had last night, but they came to you as a bunch of blurred images.
The last time he had nightmares, he thought it was your fault, but after spending the night feeding off your delectable supernatural body he wondered how he could have such torturous, painful nightmares. Especially after such a long time since he had the company of anyone in his sleep.
It hit him like a plague, and ruined his mood, apparently that would never leave him.
“Morning.” Insouciant, why would that be?
“Good morning!” You exclaim, merry to see him. He looks confused. “Where were you going? I didn't see you. I'm pretty sure you still slept in the same bed as me last night.”
“That's none of your business.” Once again, you're facing the mean kitty. You sighed.
“You were much easier to deal with last night. You were very touchy, if I can say.” You remember him and all the clear touching you shared at the party and at the end of it.
“Look, just because I fucked you doesn't mean I feel anything for you, so you should stop looking for me.” He looked very serious as he said this, you suddenly feel so much of a feeling you've never felt before. Like cold water has just been poured down your good mood. A foreign feeling pounding into your chest.
Shame.
And he continues.
“It was a wonderful fuck, and I'd love to do it again, even though you're insufferable and… surprisingly weak for a being such as a demon, it makes me a bit disappointed, I expected more a bit more.” He tilts his head arrogantly as he dares to put you down.
You weren't expecting to feel such a weird pang in your heart from his words, it's not sadness, but anger instead. Your face fell and you closed your fist around your chest.
“I've only never left because you never truly wanted me to go away,” you give him a fake smile, your eyes burning, denying the tears. “You may say whatever you want, but you know you've always been alone and the one that's never picked. The last option, the second, unwanted child, I know. Always the shadow of another, you delight yourself upon the attention I give you.” You close your mouth but look very sour, wanting to hurt him.
“I could say the same of you,” He says through gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Pointing towards you in spite. “Your 'brother' made you throw up last night, who are you to say you're not also unwanted? Is that the main reason you seek attention from me? Because you crave it? Or is it because you can't let me go? You've said it yourself, demon, your attraction to my powers, to my magic, to me. It doesn't make you want to go away, so what do you have to say? Your infatuation makes you weak and predictable. I've said this from the start, you're the one that's been too fucked dumb until you forgot this fact.” He spits it all out, looking down at you, his eyes looking so sharp like knives.
“You know nothing about me.” You say coldly, breaking your charismatic endeavor.
“You've shown me your cards a long time ago, little demon. I know how you work,” He's too proud, you burn with rage. “I could use your body like my personal sex toy and you wouldn't even deny me, would you? Having my personal demon slave to break until you cry, that's how emotional you are, you'd probably just break down to pieces. Are you having fun with the humans? Are they making you as pathetic as they are? Do you want to save the world with them, do you think any sensible human on this planet would consider you a hero?” His voice trembles as he says the last sentence.
The next noise that the room echoes is a sudden snap, Loki's face red, burning from the mark of your violence. You slapped him.
Your gaze is distant as you watch his surprised eyes burning with agitation from having startled you. You're suddenly filled with anger to a point you start hitting his chest.
He can prevent all the attacks, and he doesn't take it seriously, you'd probably scare a mortal but Loki's way too egotistical now, all your early compliments of his powers feeding into his image of being superior, mistakenly thinking he's superior to you.
And over all of this, he's convinced he hates you. He can feel the scratches stinging and marking their presence on his pale arms as you tried to attack with your bare hands.
He loses composure and falls with you on top of him, your hands squeeze his arms harshly, craving your nail into his skin, purposefully strong enough and wanting to make it bleed. It pleased you.
He leaves a hiss as he locks your hands again, but he can still feel the scratching and gripping and hitting throughout other parts of his body.
“How are you doing this?!” He exclaims feeling the punches still hit him as he holds down your fists.
It's comparable to a ghostly touch, it's aggressive, freezing and scorching at the same time, you were all like the demon you're supposed to be. Exposing the anger and the punishment against his skin being the victim.
“You're only scared because you know I hold the truth.” He says.
“You can't offend me, Laufeyson. I only give you what you deserve,” You spit on him, and he backs off, leaving your hands free as you get angrier on top. “You can't, I know every one of your sins, I know your fears.”
“You don't know what I am,” he said sadly, trying to keep a stable look. “You don't.”
“I know you're the spoiled child here, not me.” You say, “You act like you're so tortured but you've had everything in life and you're nothing but a spoiled little prince that deserves nothing but cruelty, so you'll know how others feel.” You look into his eyes as you're wishing to hurt him. “Maybe I should punish you myself,” you sound a bit too serious, as if another play-pretend is coming to an end, a bit too out of your mind. “What do you think? Should I? Should I make your life a living hell? Should I make you pay for the souls you've killed? I promise it's more than some hundred people the Avenger's data claim to be. Come on, Loki!” You scream at his face, still straddling him, his hands shaking now but unmoving to push you off.
“Come on, Loki!” You continue, “Think of the parents, their children, growing up alone after you killed them, the families ruined. Should I make you suffer for them all?”
He looks sad now, you could see the tears silently showing on the corners of his eyes. You couldn't stop, you don't feel guilt, it doesn't come with your nature.
“You wouldn't dare. Even if I deserve it, you wouldn't punish me.” He coldly says, trying to snap against you, he's surprised he can't do it this time.
You close your mouth and give him a furious look, you know you shouldn't speak now, you don't want him to know too much about you. You can't, so you lie.
“You're right,” you lie, too saccharine, coming too easily, you just have to look a bit defeated. He doesn't look like he believes you, ever so doubtful. “You're right, I said I wouldn't. I can't punish you.”
He doesn't want to think about your trustworthiness, nor about his arguments. He closes the distance between the two of you, right out of the foreign room, out there in the hallway.
In contrast to the night before, now his touch only shows his anger and shame instead of any passion.
He doesn't want you to feel anything other than his hatred and fury, he's angry, all too angry at your words. At your daring to look innocent and bubbly, at your fake pretend act, at your secrets, at your constant clinginess, at your touches. At you. He's angry at you, he's quickly convinced he hates you and that you're messing with his mind to make you seem like a good person.
He growls against the inside of your mouth as he seeks forward your open shirt, grabbing the skin with the equal pressure of wishing to make it bleed too, he cupped the back of your head and brought you close as he brutally bites your lower lip.
“Ow, you fuck–” You complain, feeling it bleed, lifting your hand instinctively to touch the wound, he grabs your hand and keeps it down in place. Using his seidr to remove his pants and all of your clothes, the top of his asgardian leather vest prodding your bare stomach, you look around the hallway, scared someone will pass by. “The cameras. Someone might–”
“I'm tired of your feigned innocence.” He angrily silences you, he puts his hand to cover your mouth and your mumbles stuffle around his palms. “Let them see. Let them watch.” He rolls his hips roughly to your pelvic arch, pumping his cock to prepare and grunting out to the Heavens as he slides it into your already dripping hole.
You didn't want to confess how much the possibility of any strangers watching enticed you. “Let them see who brings the demon to her knees.” You bite his hand harshly and he hisses, grabbing your chin violently and squeezing, feeling your dental arch under the skin of your face. Your lips plump bright from his harsh kissing.
“Fuck, no–” You squeak out, not meaning it, but he still hesitates, until you glance at him and nod again, more frenetically, trying to get him to move as you babble meaningless denials. He keeps his thrusting, going harder and harder, making you grip his hips to steady. Afraid someone will hear the noise of your flesh hitting together ferociously. “Oh, OH!” You scream out.
“I want to devour you, you cruel thing.” He tightens his grip on your chin while pistoning your poor cunt. “I want to eat you up, you're a little bug compared to me. Tiny little useless little bitch.” He keeps his punishing pace. “This is the punishment you'll receive, tell me, do you like it? Am I being fair? It's an honorable punishment, being my little cumslut, I'll make you my little cum dumpster,” his eyes sparkled as he said the term to refer to you. “I'll fill you up and you won't be able to move, feeling me right here with your every step, feeling the stickiness that'll mark you as mine, so you'll forget your bratty behavior.” He puts his hand to rest on your womb, and you moan loudly, locking eyes with the tiny, almost unnoticeable, camera. Not knowing if it's on or not, either way, you're likely giving a whole performance.
“Ah! Oh, no,” you feel your eyes sting with tears as you're pinned down, against the cold floor. Your legs give out whilst they also tremble with every hit of his skin against yours.
He pulls out quickly and turns you around, now your mouth is fighting to stay far from the ground. He yanks your hair as he pushes your entire face towards the floor, arching your lower back, presenting yourself to him. He kicks your legs open to hurriedly shove his throbbing, aching cock, inside of you again.
The manhandling got you shaking for him, his thrusting forceful as your face dizzily scratched in contact with the harsh freezing floor of the hallway. He's pounding into you as if to convince himself of his lack of care for you.
Reaching his fingers around you to eagerly touch your clit, wishing for your constricting walls to suffocate his cock, to unknowingly pull him in deeper so he could flood your insides with his seed.
He wanted to make the devil tremble beneath him every single time, to feel your knees weak for him, he feared he was addicted. Your body invites him with such warmth, to paint your walls white with his cum.
When he feels you jolting harshly, he growls and his hips snap strongly to guide you through your orgasm, not relenting in his pace. You felt yourself getting too overstimulated as you moaned very soft whines and pushed your hands weakly against his chest.
He kept a vicious pace until his thrusting began getting uneven as he grunts out loudly, pushing your skin as he fills your abused cunt with loads of his cum.
Both of you lay out of breath on the floor, trying to recover a balanced breathing pattern, his marvelous hand still grasping your skin as strong as he could, instinctively.
Once you both recover, he moves his fingers to magically redress himself. Keeping you dumbly watching him, even as he lifts off of your body, he doesn't make a move to dress you.
“You're such a dick.” You spit out the words, looking around to check where your clothes are, before remembering he magicked them off.
“I could help you, of course,” He pretends to think of something. “But I'll only do so, if you tell me what's the deal with the angel.” He brings the topic out of the blue.
“I don't need your help!” You exclaim angrily, getting up naked. “You don't scare me, Loki.” You give him a stern look.
“I should. You should be scared of me. And you don't look half as terrifying as you think you do, while you're naked.”
You ignore the teasing and focus on the way he's trying to intimidate you. “You're just a god. I've seen millions of them.”
“Which only fuels my curiosity, can I even know how old you are?”
You grunt out and physically hesitate, you despise going anywhere near personal talk. You make new clothes magically reappear.
“I could get you naked in a snap of my fingers if you don't answer me.” He smirks, glancing down at your body.
“I think you forget I'm more powerful than you.” You state still denying him attention.
“I should probably wait for a team meeting, so I could make everyone see how much of a beauty you are.”
“They probably already know.” You glance at the camera, that's not speckling any light to sign its functioning. “Or maybe not, either way, I could get you naked in a second too.” You dared.
“Oh, I hope you do.” He grabs your waist and presses both of his hands down your stomach.
“In the middle of the hallway?!” Stark insults, accompanied by a frantic Steve by his side.
“We should create a rule of no sex around the tower.”
“Everybody would lose within a week, dumbass, only you wouldn't.” Stark pats his chest, you get yourself out of Loki's grip. “We all saw what you two did last night on the table, your luck is that a lot of people do the same in these parties. Just don't do it very…often.” He refuses to look at you two.
You don't answer him and just walk away, reaching another huge area. Most of the spaces resemble the living room for resting, that's close to the meeting room. It's not really your fault for not knowing the places or their purposes yet.
“Don't you want to go down to the training room?” Steve asks you, walking in with you. “It'll be useful, it's what we usually do around these hours. And you'll probably need to do it one time or another.”
“I'll think about it–” You end up bumping someone as you were staring at Rogers.
“Where are your manners?” Inquiries the being, the great Symbol of Heaven. “Honestly, sister, you've been falling off your feet a lot since the party.”
“Don't call me that.”
“Do you have something against him?” Stark asks, a bit rhetorically, as he can already sense the answer.
Loki arrogantly tilts his head now that he knows it'll be difficult for you to walk away.
“Of course I have, I don't want to be near him.” You say.
“You don't have to.” The Angel responds.
“Have you people just adopted him now?” Loki asks the two headmasters of the group, and they both look at each other.
“Firstly, we don't "adopt"–” Stark got interrupted mid his sentence, as the angel presented himself.
“I am å̵̫̭̹̳̟̮͉͙̲̉͜͜ͅá̶̹̦̈̎͊̍͒̇̕̚͝͝ą̷̱̻̞͉̾̂͊̈́a̸̲̜͙̣̦̙͚̞̹̻̠̓̄̈́̈́a̴̤͈̻̾͊͌̄a̶̧͇̠̜̼̻̹̱͔̳̯̘̔̀͊̈́̆̉̈̋͒̋a̶̮̞͉͖̝̿͜ṇ̷̛̮̗̮̪̫̱̻̳͚̝͍̅́̓͆̄̊̏̿̄̐̾̚͜͝͝͝ģ̵̧̡̛̗̘͓̱̫̦͉̰̯̰̗͍͇̥̳̝̲̭̳͖͊͒̄̅̎́̃̒̐̓̌̚̕͝͠͠ę̵̨̢̧͇͉̮̲͇̠̠̘̝̬̜̣͈̗͉͓͎̣̻̓̅̈́̇͌̌̀̽̀̀͊̆̅̒̃̚͘̕͘͝͝ĺ̷̟̪̬̙͈̉̈̋̋́͆͐̐̑̐̐̃͊̄̚̕͝ Ediel.” His words give a glimpse in space, and time, and everyone questions their sanity for a second, they could swear they saw something. Ediel is as bright as the sun when he grins at his sister.
“Did you guys see that?” Asks Thor as he walks through the door.
“See what?” You question, not knowing what he's talking about.
“I-I…the thing̛̱͙̟̪̣̠̓̒͑̽–” Thor looks around, then something stops while they're all still looking at the angel.
Thor enters the room again and repeats the same question.
“Did you guys see that?” The god asks.
“See what?” You question him.
“I don't remember…” Thor looks down, confused, a finger on his chin as he wonders. They all look at each other now and Tony points at you.
“Just don't kill each other while you're here, he may be good for us, it's always safe to be in the presence of an angel.”
“I actually feel much safer indeed.” Steve expresses and you roll your eyes. Loki knew you had nowhere to hide now.
“Why do you hate him?” Loki asks you.
“Don't you also hate your brother? I have my reasons.” You snap and try to run away once more, until Tony gets ahold of your arm.
“Calm down now hocus pocus, what is it that you have to say? We have the right to know, what if it's something dangerous?”
“Why is everyone so stuck in this? I have the right to not say anything if I don't want to.”
“I don't see what's wrong either,” Ediel says, defending you. “My sister should feel free to walk away just as she wants to.”
“He seems nice. Just a bit off-putting.” Thor brings up watching the other blond.
“Now you know what you're like.” Loki bickers with Thor. And they share a look close to a childlike war.
“Ediel is a fallen angel,” You tell the group with a quiet tone, wanting nothing more than to go away. “Anything—anyone, that falls out of Heaven must be an evil entity, a fraud, a sinner–”
“If that were true, that'd appeal to you,” Ediel says. “This is everything demons admire. If the accusations were truthful, you'd have no reason to hate me.” The avengers could sense how little you felt close to the golden angel.
“They don't know you. They don't know us. Stay out of my way.” You point to your brother and walk out.
“Do you want to explain the whole 'sister' thing?” Loki casually brings up the topic as Ediel keeps a watch on your way out. “She doesn't seem to cooperate, so who knows, you might actually be useful.” He says to the angel.
Ediel feels bashful before speaking, “It's actually fairly simple,” he says your name and proceeds to talk about you. “She is related to Satan himself, raised by Him, and unfortunately so am I, now.” He says feeling his heart ache with shame.
“However that's not a reason for any of you to hate me, or mistrust me,” he quickly explains as their eyes wander around. “I stay in a different position, I'm never in Hell and I've never been close to it, I stay on the surface nearby Earth. I'm more of an actual fallen angel, I'm a guardian, a protector. A savior.”
Loki rolls his eyes in annoyance, “That's what your sister claimed too, when I first met her. I've heard enough.” He tells them and moves somewhere else too, Thor follows him with a sheepish expression.
“I am a being created by God,” Ediel says to the others. “He loves me, as he does to you all, but unfortunately I'm too close to Satan here. Too close, unfortunately, to be mistaken with a demon. I'm just grateful to know my truth, and I'll keep my guard upon us, against the evil that is the demon that inhabits here.”
Everyone looks convinced that this angel won't go away. But Tony needed to state some things.
“Right, cherub, we don't need help. Demoness is not a terrifying or evil entity, she's been cooperating, and at the exact moment she decides to misbehave, the authorities–” Tony gives a dramatic pause to make sure his point comes across. “will deal with her. Earth authorities, the law. We're not afraid of your evil little friend. You can stay calm.”
“It's still an obligation that I have to stay present and keep a watch.”
“That makes me quite uncomfortable,” Steve says. “What do you mean by keeping a watch?”
“Nothing frightful, human, I promise you. I'll stay here to ensure everyone's safety, and I'll make sure to be a good spirit to all, I'm the bringer of God's words and great spirit.” He gives everyone a bright smile again.
Translations: In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti = In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Tu es qui jaces in Coelis, gratia plena =Thou who art lies in Heaven, full of Grace.
In omnibus nobis omnia praesens, omnium salvator = He is present to all of us, the savior of all.
Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in Terra = Thy kingdom come. Thy wish will be done, as it is in Heaven and on Earth.
Kom for meg, min lille djevel = Come for me, my little devil.
Summary: A lot of smut following, a bit of angst as they'll fight later on. Is there anything suspicious about the Angel?
Warnings: Smut!! Blasphemy, alcohol, fighting, (physical aggression, scratching) improper use of magic, slapping, verbal insults, screaming, probably a bit of exhibitionism, (but not really? Loki's pretty possessive, he's just really mad) hate-sex, rough fuck, mean Loki.
“Not the shoes!” Thor exclaimed scandalously as he watched the scene.
Loki makes a disgusted sound with his throat, stepping carefully and processing the fact there was demon vomit on his new, expensive, on-brand shoes. Messily, as he's still groggy with all the alcohol on his system, he lifts his hand up the air and magically removes the offending substance off his shoes.
“Be careful next time.” He harshly commands, but you're still dizzy and fighting to remain steady, trembling on your feet, his eyes soften as he sees your state. “Is it better now? Do you need to go somewhere?” He asks and receives no answer from you.
“You've never really enjoyed my presence, have you?” The Angel speaks up. It's weird to see you looking so small. “And the first impression I have of you after all these years is of you throwing up, your body has gotten weak.” The Angel repulsively spits out, you refuse to look at him and pull an extremely confused Loki by his arms, dragging him out of there.
You two get together inside a tiny, hidden, locked room. Loki restlessly demands information of the angel who just appeared to ruin your party.
“Fuck it, I shouldn't have allowed myself to drink so much.” You put your hands on your head, feeling the stinging sensation.
“It was fun while it lasted, you have to admit.”
“You just liked seeing me lose control.” You bring up, still not looking at him.
“You always have control of everything.” He points out.
“Do I?” You smirk knowingly, licking your lips at his attitude. He looked all disheveled and your sudden unquietness within yourself made you want to explode. “Damn it, just take your fucking clothes off.”
“Excuse me?” He blinks and gapes a bit, looking stupid, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. He takes off his shoes, and his hands jump to unfasten his shirt but he just hesitates until you say it again.
“You heard me, take them off.” You say and push his chest until his back lays against the soft, foreign bed. “Do you want me to do it for you?” You were out of patience and reaching to straddle his body beneath yours.
He gulps and proceeds to do as you say, fighting to take his shirt off his torso as quickly as possible, resisting the temptation to lift his hand and touch your skin after he's shirtless. He just keeps them there up beyond his reach.
Oh.
He's keeping his hands to himself, up his head, presenting his body to you. You give a diabolic smile that shows your pointy teeth, as you're close to salivating at the sight of his muscular pecs exposing his heavy breathing and very very warm sweat speckling down his skin.
You lean forward closer to his face, locking eyes with him, just to close your fingers around each of his wrists. Keeping it there lifted now with full control, just like he wanted, his pupils are dark and his eyes so pleasing you're starting to think you're drunk on something else.
He groans, closing his eyes in response from the pleasure of you squeezing his skin tight as you suffocate his senses with your body practically glued to his.
“Fuck.” It's all you can muster, you never could have guessed drunk-you would be so lacking for words. Maybe it's just his intoxicating aroma deafening your senses.
“Demoness,” he puts himself through a test and tries to let go of your hands. He succeeds and gives you a very bright malicious smile. “You temptress,” His eyes sparkle with malice as he hungrily watches your body burn under his fingertips. “My mistress bathed in sin.”
His hands snake down your skin and you allow it, for now. He's still smiling and still licking his lips at the sight of you on top of him. The moment stops for you as you notice his eyes sparkle a bit more as he admires.
Then he turns you around and pins you under his body, with all the pressure he can apply. And you try to squirm out but it's like his body is made of iron with how heavy he is on top of you, locking you beneath him.
His hellish amusement is there and now you grunt out to the air.
“I allowed it,” you brag.
“Of course you did, you're just a horny stupid little thing, aren't you?” You get red from his words, but he doesn't relent, and he can sense you're starting to shake a little. “You'd let me do all the work.”
“You can't–”
“Can't what?” His hips grind against yours, both of you still clothed but craving, dying for the friction. “Can't what? You brought me here, wouldn't want to ruin the party for me, would you, little one? No…” He runs his mouth down the skin of your neck to your breasts, and his cold breath is making you shiver. “No, you have something to give me.” He almost orders. And you spread your leg a little wider in invitation, he pulls your dress up and his hands start kneading your ass.
Your teeth are gritted in response to his degrading words. But you just swallow your defenses, both of your dizzy drunken brains managing to make the situation much simpler as you just allow him to take control.
He is visibly excited for this, preparing you with his touching, delighting on your sounds and huffs of pleasure, “Are you okay? Is this okay?” he frowns a bit as he remembers, waiting patiently as you can read the underlying question: do you truly want this? Are you sober?
Your heart palpitates faster, your gaze is dazzled with wonder, noticeable for a while, as you stare into his questioning but patient eyes. You're okay, you know you are, but you're more than pleased to know he's a man of morals even when you can feel how horny he is, pulsing against the skin of your thighs.
Also, it's not very often that you see gods being morally correct. Or not just caring about themselves, if there's one thing you've been impressed with since the beginning, it's about how Loki, somehow, always cares for you, even when he pretends he doesn't.
“I'm ok, it's ok.” You consent, nodding a little, and wait a moment in silence. “Are you ok?”
He seems lost while gazing hungrily at your body, his mouth open as he unconsciously unleashes his breathing. Grasping you a bit too hard around your hips, he looks into your eyes again. “Yes, yes I am.”
It's the last thing you hear before he dives between your thighs, looking feral as he admires your glistening pussy, he silently wonders if he's been bewitched, for he felt starved from your delicious cunt and it's only been an hour —if he still remembers properly. But damn it now, he doesn't care about anything else but you and your scent, poisoning his system.
He curses a Nordic profounity, “Fuck, fuck. Demoness, you're killing me now, I'm sure of it. You're poisoning me,” he states and you push him to eat you out, forcing his words to an end as you smile up to the ceiling so adoringly, feeling his skilled tongue pleasing you.
“I wouldn't kill you,” You breathe out shaking. Soon you wouldn't be able to even feel your legs as they're numbing from overstimulation, your body recalling the early hours of the party. You moan loudly as you jolt from the thought and from Loki's tongue hitting your sweet spot.
When he pulls out, there's your essence tainting his lips, you curse out to all the princes of Hell. They could be damned now, you'd let this god do anything to you, if kept looking at you like you carry the whole world, eating you out like you're the best thing his lips ever tasted.
Loki keeps your thighs well spread out for him, giving a kiss to your stomach, and your heart waves at the soft touch. That was so cute, to you. He keeps kissing and licking the area, giving small bites at times when noticed you got too ticklish, or squirmed more under his touch.
When his body went up his kisses came too, and you felt the head of his cock move up and down to drown in your juices, coming close to your clit just to tease and moving down, slowly again.
“L-Loki,” You wave, quivering under his ferocious gaze. He licked his lips as he watched you like you're his last meal. His hand lands on your lower back. ”Please,” you gulp dumbly as you watch him. “Just fuck me.”
“Ask nicely.” He teases more, his hand close to holding you down by your neck. You whimper as you feel the head of his cock entering you, he takes a deep breath to keep his ground as he awaits your begging. Almost unable to contain himself, his jaw clenched and hands twitching, hurting your skin but you don't mind.
You force yourself to swallow your pride. Rolling your eyes a bit too harshly before feeling him pulling out and entering more of his cock into your sensitive cunt, you're unused to the size and your walls are stretched with a tad discomfort. He chuckles.
“Do you feel pain, little slut? Who would've thought, a dirty demon like you.” He cruelly mentions your visible, slight discomfort. Mocking.
You tilt your head to him, clenched jaw but pleading eyes still wanting to feel more of him despite the pain, the need to feel him deep inside you needing to be scratched.
“Please,” you keep going, jaw still clenched, you can pinpoint submissiveness to the alcohol, later. For now, you want him, all of him. “Please, please, please. Give me your cock.” Your hands clench around his shoulders as you bring him closer, he grants you your wish.
Your knees have given out and you feel helpless for the first time in so long, your whole body was pinned against him as he speared into you with such a furious intensity, getting so deep you gasped in utter surprise. His hands around your neck and a whispered sign down your earlobe to “Keep begging me,” and you're at a loss, babbling the sound of his name and the word 'please'.
He reaches around to touch your clit, matching his unforgiving pace, picking up his speed as he groans feeling you clench around him so deliciously. Small yelps left your throat with each of his harsh thrusts, you're a mess as your back arches closer to his chest.
His hand moves to hold your back carefully as he keeps heavily grunting onto your ear, his breathing deep and low voice demanding of your pleasure. He harshly grasps your skin with his nails, you scratch his back together from all the pressure hitting your sensitive cunt.
As he massages your clit, it makes you jolt under his touch with each stroke. His thrusts becoming more and more animalistic, brutal, he rams into you, your whole body is shaking roughly with his brutish pounding.
You can barely hear your own moaning as Loki fills all of your senses, he is everything you touch and his growls and grunts are all you hear. You two fill the quiet room with the sound of sex and moaning.
“Look at you,” he gloats. “You were so insistent upon not looking inferior, now you tremble beneath me.” He gives a slow, harsh thrust, to emphasize his point, your eyes roll and your mouth opens, almost drooling. “Pray to me.”
His words come out rough and too low timbre. your whole body shivers and your core tightens, burning from his words alone, he gets so fast-paced with his pounding you can't even catch a breath.
“W-w-wh-what?” You ask among his savage rhythm. Your mouth is in the shape of an 'O' as he pulls out only to slip even further inside you, if that's possible.
“You heard me,” He messily moves his hand from your back to pull your hair. It makes you remember the other time, when he refused to sleep with you. You give him a shameless, taunting smile.
He yanks your hair locking eyes with you, a deep moan escapes your lips in response. “Pray to me. Pray, and this God might save your devious soul. I'm the only God you have to think of.”
Little does he know, —although he should — but you don't have a soul to be saved. It's not like you're going to correct him now.
Your head moves back and forth mixing with his body smashing against your flesh, you don't fear the dizziness that'll install later, his fucking making you completely mindless.
You gulp and sob out, your brain struggling to remember how to speak through the fogginess of pleasure.
“In-In- nomine Patris, et- Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,” you start, broken Latin as you fight to remember what the prayers are—those that make your skin burn with their Grace— his punishing pounding getting worse and more frantic as your praying comes to life.
“T-t-tu es qu-qui jaces in-in-in Coelis, gratia plena,” your voice is trembling, fighting to keep the tone alive. You sob your tears from the sensitivity blinding your sight through the sinful act. The blasphemy drowning you, filling the pits of your stomach. “i-in omnibus nobis omnia praesens, omnium salvator.” You spit out the end, locking eyes with him.
“Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra–” You trip over your words as he starts sucking and biting your neck.
He furiously rubs his hand against your clit. His voice strained to say the next words, his breaking point coming present as he pronounces all his Asgardian splendor.
“C-come, come now. Kom for meg, min lille djevel.” You scream and spasm around him, clutching all you can grab of him, wanting to feel as much as possible. You see stars as you cum around him, shaking, the squelching sound so sinful reaching your ears.
Loki growls near your jawline, his thrusts getting slack as he's closer to completion. He shudders, you feel his cock pulsing inside of you, filling you full with his warm cum.
Loki's breaths are labored as his thrusting slows down, riding his orgasm. When he pulls out, there's the trace of semen tainting your skin and trickling down your thighs.
You're panting heavily as he pulls you closer to him, his eyes never leaving yours, he leans forward to kiss you. You didn't even get to catch a breath as he changes your position and deepens the kiss.
You felt your body aching from the sex, your head was spinning from the damned alcohol you had last night. As much as it hurts to feel some pins and needles, you still had the new — horrifying—experience to feel human.
You don't know how you feel about that.
Lifting yourself as quickly as possible to hurry to the bathroom, as you feel nauseated, you suddenly remember your conditions and physically recoil from agony and disgust of yourself.
Throwing up? You've allowed yourself to throw up? Especially in front of your 'brother'? At a party filled with humans?
Outrageous, gross. You want to kill your human form and remove the skin to stop from feeling so dirty and humane. But all you can express outloud is a sincere grunt of annoyance, grabbing the skin of your stomach.
It takes some time, you arrive at the bathroom and contain your vomiting, using your magic to stop the sickness and the lightheadedness, throwing up now would make you simply refuse to exist.
It takes time for you to notice Loki's not in the room.
You take a look at the place, analyzing every detail you didn't notice before. And hurry to get out of there and find Loki.
You end up bumping into him as you walk out of that strange room, he looks you up and down, his mind rushes through the thoughts of your well-being, then he seems to put himself together. Clearing his throat.
His mind rushed through a series of nightmares he had last night, but they came to you as a bunch of blurred images.
The last time he had nightmares, he thought it was your fault, but after spending the night feeding off your delectable supernatural body he wondered how he could have such torturous, painful nightmares. Especially after such a long time since he had the company of anyone in his sleep.
It hit him like a plague, and ruined his mood, apparently that would never leave him.
“Morning.” Insouciant, why would that be?
“Good morning!” You exclaim, merry to see him. He looks confused. “Where were you going? I didn't see you. I'm pretty sure you still slept in the same bed as me last night.”
“That's none of your business.” Once again, you're facing the mean kitty. You sighed.
“You were much easier to deal with last night. You were very touchy, if I can say.” You remember him and all the clear touching you shared at the party and at the end of it.
“Look, just because I fucked you doesn't mean I feel anything for you, so you should stop looking for me.” He looked very serious as he said this, you suddenly feel so much of a feeling you've never felt before. Like cold water has just been poured down your good mood. A foreign feeling pounding into your chest.
Shame.
And he continues.
“It was a wonderful fuck, and I'd love to do it again, even though you're insufferable and… surprisingly weak for a being such as a demon, it makes me a bit disappointed, I expected more a bit more.” He tilts his head arrogantly as he dares to put you down.
You weren't expecting to feel such a weird pang in your heart from his words, it's not sadness, but anger instead. Your face fell and you closed your fist around your chest.
“I've only never left because you never truly wanted me to go away,” you give him a fake smile, your eyes burning, denying the tears. “You may say whatever you want, but you know you've always been alone and the one that's never picked. The last option, the second, unwanted child, I know. Always the shadow of another, you delight yourself upon the attention I give you.” You close your mouth but look very sour, wanting to hurt him.
“I could say the same of you,” He says through gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Pointing towards you in spite. “Your 'brother' made you throw up last night, who are you to say you're not also unwanted? Is that the main reason you seek attention from me? Because you crave it? Or is it because you can't let me go? You've said it yourself, demon, your attraction to my powers, to my magic, to me. It doesn't make you want to go away, so what do you have to say? Your infatuation makes you weak and predictable. I've said this from the start, you're the one that's been too fucked dumb until you forgot this fact.” He spits it all out, looking down at you, his eyes looking so sharp like knives.
“You know nothing about me.” You say coldly, breaking your charismatic endeavor.
“You've shown me your cards a long time ago, little demon. I know how you work,” He's too proud, you burn with rage. “I could use your body like my personal sex toy and you wouldn't even deny me, would you? Having my personal demon slave to break until you cry, that's how emotional you are, you'd probably just break down to pieces. Are you having fun with the humans? Are they making you as pathetic as they are? Do you want to save the world with them, do you think any sensible human on this planet would consider you a hero?” His voice trembles as he says the last sentence.
The next noise that the room echoes is a sudden snap, Loki's face red, burning from the mark of your violence. You slapped him.
Your gaze is distant as you watch his surprised eyes burning with agitation from having startled you. You're suddenly filled with anger to a point you start hitting his chest.
He can prevent all the attacks, and he doesn't take it seriously, you'd probably scare a mortal but Loki's way too egotistical now, all your early compliments of his powers feeding into his image of being superior, mistakenly thinking he's superior to you.
And over all of this, he's convinced he hates you. He can feel the scratches stinging and marking their presence on his pale arms as you tried to attack with your bare hands.
He loses composure and falls with you on top of him, your hands squeeze his arms harshly, craving your nail into his skin, purposefully strong enough and wanting to make it bleed. It pleased you.
He leaves a hiss as he locks your hands again, but he can still feel the scratching and gripping and hitting throughout other parts of his body.
“How are you doing this?!” He exclaims feeling the punches still hit him as he holds down your fists.
It's comparable to a ghostly touch, it's aggressive, freezing and scorching at the same time, you were all like the demon you're supposed to be. Exposing the anger and the punishment against his skin being the victim.
“You're only scared because you know I hold the truth.” He says.
“You can't offend me, Laufeyson. I only give you what you deserve,” You spit on him, and he backs off, leaving your hands free as you get angrier on top. “You can't, I know every one of your sins, I know your fears.”
“You don't know what I am,” he said sadly, trying to keep a stable look. “You don't.”
“I know you're the spoiled child here, not me.” You say, “You act like you're so tortured but you've had everything in life and you're nothing but a spoiled little prince that deserves nothing but cruelty, so you'll know how others feel.” You look into his eyes as you're wishing to hurt him. “Maybe I should punish you myself,” you sound a bit too serious, as if another play-pretend is coming to an end, a bit too out of your mind. “What do you think? Should I? Should I make your life a living hell? Should I make you pay for the souls you've killed? I promise it's more than some hundred people the Avenger's data claim to be. Come on, Loki!” You scream at his face, still straddling him, his hands shaking now but unmoving to push you off.
“Come on, Loki!” You continue, “Think of the parents, their children, growing up alone after you killed them, the families ruined. Should I make you suffer for them all?”
He looks sad now, you could see the tears silently showing on the corners of his eyes. You couldn't stop, you don't feel guilt, it doesn't come with your nature.
“You wouldn't dare. Even if I deserve it, you wouldn't punish me.” He coldly says, trying to snap against you, he's surprised he can't do it this time.
You close your mouth and give him a furious look, you know you shouldn't speak now, you don't want him to know too much about you. You can't, so you lie.
“You're right,” you lie, too saccharine, coming too easily, you just have to look a bit defeated. He doesn't look like he believes you, ever so doubtful. “You're right, I said I wouldn't. I can't punish you.”
He doesn't want to think about your trustworthiness, nor about his arguments. He closes the distance between the two of you, right out of the foreign room, out there in the hallway.
In contrast to the night before, now his touch only shows his anger and shame instead of any passion.
He doesn't want you to feel anything other than his hatred and fury, he's angry, all too angry at your words. At your daring to look innocent and bubbly, at your fake pretend act, at your secrets, at your constant clinginess, at your touches. At you. He's angry at you, he's quickly convinced he hates you and that you're messing with his mind to make you seem like a good person.
He growls against the inside of your mouth as he seeks forward your open shirt, grabbing the skin with the equal pressure of wishing to make it bleed too, he cupped the back of your head and brought you close as he brutally bites your lower lip.
“Ow, you fuck–” You complain, feeling it bleed, lifting your hand instinctively to touch the wound, he grabs your hand and keeps it down in place. Using his seidr to remove his pants and all of your clothes, the top of his asgardian leather vest prodding your bare stomach, you look around the hallway, scared someone will pass by. “The cameras. Someone might–”
“I'm tired of your feigned innocence.” He angrily silences you, he puts his hand to cover your mouth and your mumbles stuffle around his palms. “Let them see. Let them watch.” He rolls his hips roughly to your pelvic arch, pumping his cock to prepare and grunting out to the Heavens as he slides it into your already dripping hole.
You didn't want to confess how much the possibility of any strangers watching enticed you. “Let them see who brings the demon to her knees.” You bite his hand harshly and he hisses, grabbing your chin violently and squeezing, feeling your dental arch under the skin of your face. Your lips plump bright from his harsh kissing.
“Fuck, no–” You squeak out, not meaning it, but he still hesitates, until you glance at him and nod again, more frenetically, trying to get him to move as you babble meaningless denials. He keeps his thrusting, going harder and harder, making you grip his hips to steady. Afraid someone will hear the noise of your flesh hitting together ferociously. “Oh, OH!” You scream out.
“I want to devour you, you cruel thing.” He tightens his grip on your chin while pistoning your poor cunt. “I want to eat you up, you're a little bug compared to me. Tiny little useless little bitch.” He keeps his punishing pace. “This is the punishment you'll receive, tell me, do you like it? Am I being fair? It's an honorable punishment, being my little cumslut, I'll make you my little cum dumpster,” his eyes sparkled as he said the term to refer to you. “I'll fill you up and you won't be able to move, feeling me right here with your every step, feeling the stickiness that'll mark you as mine, so you'll forget your bratty behavior.” He puts his hand to rest on your womb, and you moan loudly, locking eyes with the tiny, almost unnoticeable, camera. Not knowing if it's on or not, either way, you're likely giving a whole performance.
“Ah! Oh, no,” you feel your eyes sting with tears as you're pinned down, against the cold floor. Your legs give out whilst they also tremble with every hit of his skin against yours.
He pulls out quickly and turns you around, now your mouth is fighting to stay far from the ground. He yanks your hair as he pushes your entire face towards the floor, arching your lower back, presenting yourself to him. He kicks your legs open to hurriedly shove his throbbing, aching cock, inside of you again.
The manhandling got you shaking for him, his thrusting forceful as your face dizzily scratched in contact with the harsh freezing floor of the hallway. He's pounding into you as if to convince himself of his lack of care for you.
Reaching his fingers around you to eagerly touch your clit, wishing for your constricting walls to suffocate his cock, to unknowingly pull him in deeper so he could flood your insides with his seed.
He wanted to make the devil tremble beneath him every single time, to feel your knees weak for him, he feared he was addicted. Your body invites him with such warmth, to paint your walls white with his cum.
When he feels you jolting harshly, he growls and his hips snap strongly to guide you through your orgasm, not relenting in his pace. You felt yourself getting too overstimulated as you moaned very soft whines and pushed your hands weakly against his chest.
He kept a vicious pace until his thrusting began getting uneven as he grunts out loudly, pushing your skin as he fills your abused cunt with loads of his cum.
Both of you lay out of breath on the floor, trying to recover a balanced breathing pattern, his marvelous hand still grasping your skin as strong as he could, instinctively.
Once you both recover, he moves his fingers to magically redress himself. Keeping you dumbly watching him, even as he lifts off of your body, he doesn't make a move to dress you.
“You're such a dick.” You spit out the words, looking around to check where your clothes are, before remembering he magicked them off.
“I could help you, of course,” He pretends to think of something. “But I'll only do so, if you tell me what's the deal with the angel.” He brings the topic out of the blue.
“I don't need your help!” You exclaim angrily, getting up naked. “You don't scare me, Loki.” You give him a stern look.
“I should. You should be scared of me. And you don't look half as terrifying as you think you do, while you're naked.”
You ignore the teasing and focus on the way he's trying to intimidate you. “You're just a god. I've seen millions of them.”
“Which only fuels my curiosity, can I even know how old you are?”
You grunt out and physically hesitate, you despise going anywhere near personal talk. You make new clothes magically reappear.
“I could get you naked in a snap of my fingers if you don't answer me.” He smirks, glancing down at your body.
“I think you forget I'm more powerful than you.” You state still denying him attention.
“I should probably wait for a team meeting, so I could make everyone see how much of a beauty you are.”
“They probably already know.” You glance at the camera, that's not speckling any light to sign its functioning. “Or maybe not, either way, I could get you naked in a second too.” You dared.
“Oh, I hope you do.” He grabs your waist and presses both of his hands down your stomach.
“In the middle of the hallway?!” Stark insults, accompanied by a frantic Steve by his side.
“We should create a rule of no sex around the tower.”
“Everybody would lose within a week, dumbass, only you wouldn't.” Stark pats his chest, you get yourself out of Loki's grip. “We all saw what you two did last night on the table, your luck is that a lot of people do the same in these parties. Just don't do it very…often.” He refuses to look at you two.
You don't answer him and just walk away, reaching another huge area. Most of the spaces resemble the living room for resting, that's close to the meeting room. It's not really your fault for not knowing the places or their purposes yet.
“Don't you want to go down to the training room?” Steve asks you, walking in with you. “It'll be useful, it's what we usually do around these hours. And you'll probably need to do it one time or another.”
“I'll think about it–” You end up bumping someone as you were staring at Rogers.
“Where are your manners?” Inquiries the being, the great Symbol of Heaven. “Honestly, sister, you've been falling off your feet a lot since the party.”
“Don't call me that.”
“Do you have something against him?” Stark asks, a bit rhetorically, as he can already sense the answer.
Loki arrogantly tilts his head now that he knows it'll be difficult for you to walk away.
“Of course I have, I don't want to be near him.” You say.
“You don't have to.” The Angel responds.
“Have you people just adopted him now?” Loki asks the two headmasters of the group, and they both look at each other.
“Firstly, we don't "adopt"–” Stark got interrupted mid his sentence, as the angel presented himself.
“I am the Angel Ediel.” His words give a glimpse in space, and time, and everyone questions their sanity for a second, they could swear they saw something changing. Ediel is as bright as the sun when he grins at his sister.
“Did you guys see that?” Asks Thor as he walks through the door.
“See what?” You question, not knowing what he's talking about.
“I- the thing̛̱͙̟̪̣̠̓̒͑̽–” Thor looks around, then something stops while they're all still looking at the angel.
Until everything stops, Thor enters the room again and repeats the same question.
“Did you guys see that?” The god asks.
“See what?” You question him.
“I don't remember…” Thor looks down, confused, a finger on his chin as he wonders. They all look at each other now and Tony points at you.
“Just don't kill each other while you're here, he may be good for us, it's always safe to be in the presence of an angel.”
“I actually feel much safer indeed.” Steve expresses and you roll your eyes. Loki knew you had nowhere to hide now.
“Why do you hate him?” Loki asks you.
“Don't you also hate your brother? I have my reasons.” You snap and try to run away once more, until Tony gets ahold of your arm.
“Calm down now hocus pocus, what is it that you have to say? We have the right to know, what if it's something dangerous?”
“Why is everyone so stuck in this? I have the right to not say anything if I don't want to.”
“I don't see what's wrong either,” Ediel says, defending you. “My sister should feel free to walk away just as she wants to.”
“He seems nice. Just a bit off-putting.” Thor brings up watching the other blond.
“Now you know what you're like.” Loki bickers with Thor. And they share a look close to a childlike war.
“Ediel is a fallen angel,” You tell the group with a quiet tone, wanting nothing more than to go away. “Anything—anyone, that falls out of Heaven must be an evil entity, a fraud, a sinner–”
“If that were true, that'd appeal to you,” Ediel says. “This is everything demons admire. If the accusations were truthful, you'd have no reason to hate me.” The avengers could sense how little you felt close to the golden angel.
“They don't know you. They don't know us. Stay out of my way.” You point to your brother and walk out.
“Do you want to explain the whole 'sister' thing?” Loki casually brings up the topic as Ediel keeps a watch on your way out. “She doesn't seem to cooperate, so who knows, you might actually be useful.” He says to the angel.
Ediel feels bashful before speaking, “It's actually fairly simple,” he says your name and proceeds to talk about you. “She is related to Satan himself, raised by Him, and unfortunately so am I, now.” He says feeling his heart ache with shame.
“However that's not a reason for any of you to hate me, or mistrust me,” he quickly explains as their eyes wander around. “I stay in a different position, I'm never in Hell and I've never been close to it, I stay on the surface nearby Earth. I'm more of an actual fallen angel, I'm a guardian, a protector. A savior.”
Loki rolls his eyes in annoyance, “That's what your sister claimed too, when I first met her. I've heard enough.” He tells them and moves somewhere else too, Thor follows him with a sheepish expression.
“I am a being created by God,” Ediel says to the others. “He loves me, as he does to you all, but unfortunately I'm too close to Satan here. Too close, unfortunately, to be mistaken with a demon. I'm just grateful to know my truth, and I'll keep my guard upon us, against the evil that is the demon that inhabits here.”
Everyone looks convinced that this angel won't go away. But Tony needed to state some things.
“Right, cherub, we don't need help. Demoness is not a terrifying or evil entity, she's been cooperating, and at the exact moment she decides to misbehave, the authorities–” Tony gives a dramatic pause to make sure his point comes across. “will deal with her. Earth authorities, the law. We're not afraid of your evil little friend. You can stay calm.”
“It's still an obligation that I have to stay present and keep a watch.”
“That makes me quite uncomfortable,” Steve says. “What do you mean by keeping a watch?”
“Nothing frightful, human, I promise you. I'll stay here to ensure everyone's safety, and I'll make sure to be a good spirit to all, I'm the bringer of God's words and great spirit.” He gives everyone a bright smile again.
Translations: In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti = In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.
Tu es qui jaces in Coelis, gratia plena =Thou who art lies in Heaven, full of Grace.
In omnibus nobis omnia praesens, omnium salvator = He is present to all of us, the savior of all.
Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in Terra = Thy kingdom come. Thy wish will be done, as it is in Heaven and on Earth.
Kom for meg, min lille djevel = Come for me, my little devil.
Look at that! I'm almost punctual this time. Spring is already adding more color to the world again and I hope you are all doing great!
March gave me an amazing and diverse reading list again with a lot already known lovely authors and their ongoing masterpieces, as well as freshly started projects. But of course we also got some completely new writers I fell in love with these last weeks - and I hope you will, too. 🥰
Have a wonderful day and good reading, lovelies! 🫶
As always, if I made any mistakes or links don't work because of the update, please tell me. Hope you'll find something new to enjoy, please remember to reblog those storys to support our writers! You can find my writer recommendations here.
ATTENTION, fellow lovely whores! We are literally reaching the finale of this incredible smutfest which turned me into a puddle and has been keeping me in that state for weeks, completely destroyed my mind with arousal, unearthed new kinks I didn't know I had 🥵🥵 - and in the end led to me hearing voices that seem to think I'm some kind of agent. After this I should probably look for a priest. The one we got here of course.🔥💥
Beauty and the Snake Prince (completed) | @ijuststareatstuffhereok89
We have come to an end with the story of Loki and his concubine 😭 While the wedding ceremony of our prince has no other option then to be fulfilled, fates will be revealed, wishes are made and new hopes pursued! Wonderful conclusion with a clever twist and a happy ending that made me smile for half an hour to myself while lying in my dark room :D
Don't fear the Reaper (ongoing) | @ijuststareatstuffhereok89
S.H.I.E.L.D. tracks you down to have you locked away after you accidentally kill someone with a single touch, thanks to this dangerous ability of yours. Considered a Level One Threat, the Avengers won't listen to your pleas, until Loki strikes a deal to take you to New Asgard to mentor you in magic for a year. ✨
Thrown (ongoing) | @maple-seed
Those two adorable lovebirds are still oblivious to each others feelings - but currently other emotions take over the dynamic of the whole group when a treasured member parts with them to follow his way over the rainbow bridge 🥺😭 My heart is still broken, tissue alert definitely.
Isn't bite also touch? (ongoing) | @homesickloki
Currently I am just MASSIVELY OBSESSED with this story and its lovely writer! It's the first time they are sharing a story but I never would have guessed it. The writing is so entertaining and lively while the story is gonna hook you right in!
When Loki is captured by the Avengers a bubbly female demon shows up, freeing him and going on the run with the suspicious and grumpy god - who can't seem to shake her off but slowly doesn't even want to anymore, despite their confrontations and following recapture, ending with both of them living at the tower for now.
Mirror, Mirror (ongoing) | @wheredafandomat
Gothic romance guuuuuuuuuuys! 💀 We inherited a castle from a relative and decide to move out of the city in there with our boyfriend Bucky. Things quickly take a turn when you discover that not all is as it seems and mysterious stranger with dark hair saves you from an intruder...
Hired Gun (ongoing) | @wheredafandomat
Two people from different backgrounds that are despite that drawn to each other - Starks Daughter and her bodyguard Loki are always at each others throats. And can't keep their hands to themselves either. Smut, angst, thrill and two idiots. ❤️🔥
Relinquish the Crown (ongoing) | @muddyorbsblr
Mama Frigga knows it all and is the first one to realize the crimson thread between her son Loki and her granddaughter, decades after she confirmed the existence of such threads and the connection they are for fated souls. 💚
(I bet that gave her a headache for centuries 🤣)
Box of Rain (ongoing) | @infinitystoner
The universe is in total chaos, while we find ourselves with the newest residents of Tønsberg, Norway. Just like the universe is chaos, a sudden incident disrupts our mutual pining with Loki and he has to confront his feelings while we fight for our life. 🥺
The Relic (completed) | @mareebird
Because of a bargain to keep Loki from the Raft that didn't go as they thought, the Odinson brothers bide their uncertain time on Earth, as Loki's ennui grows. The search for an Asgardian relic brings them to Norway, where they are joined by a mysterious local archaeologist! I adore the writing here a lot, we get a lot of insight in Lokis mind and emotions, especially how he's trying to cope with what happened to him. Incredible.
Two broken make a whole (ongoing) | @thomase1
Emotions are going wild when a stranger we've never seen before recognizes us and implies he has known us in the past - the confrontation and uncertainty trigger a panic attack we are only able to get out of with Lokis help. 💥
Realmwalker (ongoing) | @lokikissesmyforehead
PEOPLE. 👏 We got Loki working with Tony, we got multiple Lokis working together here, plans to kill Thanos before he can let the universe fall into chaos and then hopefully finding a way back to us alive. Oh and meanwhile, we're basically waiting and hanging out with the grandmaster who suddenly showed up on Midgard. I think I made myself clear. :D
Appropriate (ongoing) | @lokiprompts
Loki is banished to Midgard and has to live there now - what else could a troubled god need but a social worker to help him with his new life? And if Loki learning how to live like a mortal without servants doesn't make you laugh, I don't know what does. And obviously there's lots of fluff!
Therapy fit for a God (ongoing) | @villainousshakespeare
After seriously injuring Loki while Caroline was under the influence of the sceptre, the two are being brought to Asgard by Frigga to ask for Eirs help to find out why the prince lost his memories. Loki learns a lot more of Eirs history and heritage while Caroline faces off against an unmercifull and disinterested Odin to protect her patient and love. 🫣
To Have and to Hold (ongoing) | @mochie85
After she lied about losing their baby, Violet disappears suddenly out of Lokis life. While he is almost going crazy in his search for her, she realizes during her stay with her brother, that she made a big mistake and destroyed her life without even talking to Loki honestly about the future..
Of Fraud and Fidelity (ongoing) | @fictive-sl0th
This breathtaking and kind mutual is starting a new series where we take the role of a handmaiden in Vanaheim that's crumbling under the terror of war - our affair with Loki is the only positive in our situation. At least until Odins betrayal changes your life and your home forever. I'm so hyped for his! ❤️
Lokis Happy Ending (ongoing) | @gingerwritess
No idea why I only found this collection now. A huge amount of incredible Oneshots/Drabbles belonging to a storyline where Loki gets the happy ending he deserves. Big recommendation! 😍
✨ONESHOTS | DRABBLES✨
@lokisgoodgirl
He's back
Deeper
@wheredafandomat
"What's a DILF?"
With age cums experience
Carnal Desires
@infinitystoner
Always forever
@muddyorbsblr
Summoned Pt 2
@littlespaceyelf
Loki gets a Cold
Little Sprinkles
Cherish you
@maple-seed
What ails you
@isawthisangel
How to hold a sword
@joyful-enchantress
Spring Heat
A Calm in the Storm
@ijuststareatstuffhereok89
Blame it on the rain
@sarahscribbles
Waking up next to Loki Drabble
Library Drabble
@tripleyeeet
Woke up in the waves
@last-herondale
Help me understand (This made me cry so much!)
@loz-3
Participation not required
@lady-rose-moon
Where you belong
Stay after Class
@fluffyfantasticducky
The Sound of Love
@lucky-bucky-boy
Arrogance Incarnate
@tricksterlokilaufeyson
Concept: Forever enemies (...)
I hope you‘ll find something new to add to your own reading list and if you do, please don’t forget to reblog the fics of their amazing writers to support them 💚
Still have no idea why Tumblr doesn’t want to color every tag I want, if you know please tell me:D
OH MY GOD!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹 this made my entire day, thank you so so much for including me. I'm so touched 💗💗
The other authors in here are amazing too and I can't wait to read the ones you've recommended!
The way you described the story is so amazing I keep happily rereading it, the "for now" really giving some mystery hahahah, thank you so much once again!!! I love that you mentioned me 💗💗
Summary: Loki’s mission is straight-forward. Take your duplicate to the police station in London. A simple task for an ethereal being with genius-level intellect. You have every confidence and trust in him to execute on his mission. And his intention was to carry out the plan, it truly was… until he bumps into an old friend, and he’s forced to think on his feet.
Pairing: Loki x Female Reader (reads like an OC)
Words: 3,200
Warnings: Surprisingly, this is somewhat PG. Pure comfort, really. And Loki having self-awareness and an unexpected therapy session.
Contains: Fluff and hugs and self-love and Loki being good to himself.
A/N: At the bottom of the chapter, you’ll find the inspiration behind Loki’s disguise.
***
“I see you brought the girl.”
Loki stopped walking. You were in an abandoned underground tunnel in London, known to Loki from his familiarity when the transportation system was built several centuries prior. It was the logical route to the city after Heimdall beamed down the God to a rural location with the sole purpose to remain undetected. Only in the darkest recesses of Loki’s mind had he imagined the only drawback to his plan of traversing London’s underpasses. The only possible risk. And it stood in front of him.
He saw a large imposing figure of a man, dressed in black, his back turned to them, disguised by a large shadow. Instinctively, Loki reached for her hand and held it tightly. Slowly, the figure turned. His pale face broken up only by pink lips which curled into a snarl. His index finger raised, juxtaposing an otherwise clenched fist. “You brought her. Why?”
Now they love each other on Earth and on Asgard 😭😭😭😭 why was I hoping for a hug, I am really invested in the duplicates love-life now (and omggg omg omg, how can Loki's double be so fucking loveable???)
The clear contrast between the two at the beginning because love changed our Loki, and then, seeing how the other one reacted and was still all doubtful, so we see him in the end putting effort to get better.
And the self-love?? You made everything we all wished for, Loki showing himself love and appreciation, not taking it well when he talks down on himself. It's so beautiful. And the way Loki keeps saying he's loved, and that he's being loved <3 <3
I adore how we can always feel the love through your words!!
The scene they hug gave me serotonin for the rest of my life. Amazing, I'm speechless as always.
"You don't want to. Or you're not able to. It's alright. If I were you, I wouldn't want to, either. I abandoned you. I left you. And I am sorry. I love you, Loki. I always will. No matter what you choose."
It really hit me this small part, I felt my heart shattering with that, in a good way, it was like a warm blanket embracing me, to know he's so very loved he's willing to wait, still be sorry and love him.
No matter what happens, please keep writing, you're amazing. Your writing is so symbolic and so special.
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Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection
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Summary: (18) Inner demons come out to play, as Loki ends his mission in Rome with a theatrical flourish. (w/c 3.2k)
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Sacrilege. Desecration. Language. Hell awaits. Mild angst. All will be well.
Loki’s groans sounded against your wet lips as he pulled away. The green and gold shimmering vestments flowed lavishly around his huge frame, yanking you roughly from the wall.
You stumbled as he began to stride down the side of the church, past the rows of stoic wooden pews scratched and worn from a thousand prayers. One of your sandals caught, making you wince as it popped from your foot and skated beyond reach. But now was not the time.
His grip was firm around your wrist, pulling you easily up the low steps towards the pinnacle of sanctity. He suddenly spun you, switching positions and pinning you against the front of the smooth, sacrosanct marble altar.
The nave of the church stretched behind him, a narrow passageway of serenity broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing.
Loki’s fingers roamed over your waist, over the curve of your breasts; the grumbles of desire building in his throat as his darkening eyes flashed. The digits slid up your cheekbones, his immense palms cupping the sides of your face before he was upon you.
You found your own fingers winding in his hair, whimpers of need mewling from your lips between messy clashes of tongue.
His kiss was savage, a maniacal arousal which made the air around your bodies hot. Like a woman possessed, your hands found their way to his neckline, a brutal rip resounding up to the ornate vaulted ceiling as you tore the beautiful green fabric from his chest. It split to his naval, fingers popping buttons on the descent from the innocent shirt he wore beneath.
“Is this what you want, Agent?” he moaned mockingly, as one of his hands slid over your groin. “To corrupt me. Destroy me. Disgrace me in a church of God?”
A gentle stoop of his broad shoulders let him catch beneath the hem of your thin summer dress, the scent of his warmed chest tantalisingly close.
“Loki I...can I-” you spluttered, fighting against the desire to let him ravage you the way he always did.
His hand grasped at the soft flesh of your thigh, devilish pants catching in his throat as his hard-on pitched the swathes of holy garb hanging against his hips. “Loki stop-” you gasped, pushing his hand away from your jaw.
You swept away the fingers sinking into your thigh; Loki’s digits falling to your shoulder as he studied your face – lust melting to confusion.
Your firm voice continued to echo around the domed ceiling, vibrations seeming to ring in your ears long after it had evaporated. His hand slid down your bare arm to the wrist, fingertips trailing over every centimetre of skin as though for the last time, until it fell by his side.
“Yes?” he whispered saltily, features hardening. He looked resigned, drawing up to his full height as sunlight illuminated a burst of glow behind his raven hair.
“I was wondering if...since we’re here, in Rome, and everything – could we...could you..-”
“-Oh, out with it, woman.” he scoffed, folding his arms. A tinge of pink had appeared in his cheeks. You took a deep breath. “Could you maybe not fuck me like...-”
Trailing off awkwardly, you noticed that the pink flush had spread to the tips of his ears. “Yes?!” he hissed venomously, the muscle in his jaw clenching.
“Like you hate me.” you blurted, glancing to the side as your fingers brushed the smooth surface of the altar he had owned just ten minutes before. “Just once.”
The god tilted his head, long strands of dark curls catching on the embroidery of his sacred robes. “Hate you?” he snarled. “Whatever gave you that impression?”
You raised an eyebrow, biting your tongue as you felt your cheeks heat with frustration. “Ummm, maybe the hundred times you’ve told me that?”
Loki snorted. “Only after you did. And besides, you enjoy it.” He stepped forward, hair falling across his cheekbones tingling against your forehead. “Don’t you, Agent?” he whispered. You shrugged, covering a shiver. “I just think it would be fun to see what it’s like when you’re not so…”
“-Hostile?” he finished, the ghost of a penitent smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
You rolled your eyes, running a hand through your hair and trying not to react to the tip of his nose grazing down your temple. “Salvation, wasn’t it?” he murmured, the scrape of his shoes on the marble floor like sandpaper as he shuffled even closer, hips pressed to yours.
There was a tinge of sadness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before. It was unsettling; as he inhaled against your hair, his words no more than a wisp of air.
“What you prayed for. Salvation.”
He let out a shuddering sigh, catching himself before he stoically continued. “Deliverance from your torment.”
You dared to look up at him, eyes wide. Warmth bounced in the shallows of his cheekbones, hues of gold and burnt sunrise dancing in reflections over perfect skin. The placid features set on his face were marred only by the faint knit of his brows. Contemplation, perhaps; as his grip tightened around the edge of the marble by your side. Trapping you.
“Loki, I-…” you started, swallowing quietly as he pressed a finger to your lips.
“Let me grant you the absolution you desire, Agent.” he whispered sombrely. “Let me at least do that.”
Before you could speak, his lips fastened gently to the curve of your neck. They caressed downward, every achingly soft kiss making you melt into his touch. Your head fell back as he burrowed against the skin, a low growl of satisfaction rumbling from his bare chest to yours as his hands gently gripped your hips.
Light from the stained glass windows illuminated the colours behind your eyelids, speckles of gold and burgundy making love in fragrant waves.
“Like this?” he murmured against your ear. You nodded, a soft mewl of confirmation all you could manage as he lifted you easily atop the altar.
His tongue massaged your own in haunting rhythm, strength rising and falling like the tide. The pulse of his stiff cock against your inner thigh was unbearable, his tentative unlacing of the binds holding your neckline together sending swirls of unfamiliar comfort through your veins. You carded your fingers through his hair, pushing back the waxy tendrils settled around his jaw.
God, his cheekbones really are perfect; you thought, as you ran a fingertip along one sharp edge. He’s perfect.
Loki’s eyes met your own as he studied your face, the solemn gaze threatening to swallow you whole as he ran it slowly from your parted lips back to your unwavering stare.
“Pilgrim…” Loki murmured thoughtfully, toying at the tatters of his holy robes left in your wake. “It seems your journey is at an end.”
The thick fabric split like tissue paper beneath his gentle touch, running in a straight rip below his hips. His fingers made quick work of the simple leather belt buckle, metal tinkling lightly as he reached inside and pulled forth his majestic cock.
Your breath hitched. It never gets old, you thought; feeling saliva well in your mouth as he stroked back and forth. Loki’s brows slanted, a wordless question tinged with desperation. You thought you saw his free hand tremble, before he clenched it to a fist.
He stepped between your spread legs, pressing the meat of his flawless cock against your wet slit. "Speak Latin to me." you said shyly, pulling at the clerical collar wrapped snug at his neck above the splayed sides of his shirt.
Loki laughed softly, the tilt of his head to the ceiling making his jawline flash. He lowered it towards you, teeth pulling at his bottom lip.
"In nomine patris...et fili...spiritus sancti..." he enunciated formally, narrowing his eyes. "Amen." you whispered seductively in response as you pressed your centre against his pulsing cock. Loki smirked.
“Goddess…” he hummed, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. You gasped with mock-disapproval. “Sacrilege.” you said warily, making Loki’s lip curl in a knowing smile. “Heresy, then…” he growled, a glint in his eye as he dragged the thick column of hot flesh between your soaking folds.
There was a heavy silence as Loki’s bare chest flanked by richest forest green fabric rose and fell with every breath. He tilted his chin downward, the flash of his tongue forming words before he thought better of it. Dark lashes fanned against the delicate skin beneath his eyes, a rogue curl of ebony hair falling over that regal brow.
“Desecrate me, Padre…” you coyed, looping a foot around to his ass and letting the other join it. Crossing your ankles, you pulled him the final inch flush to your body, “-nicely, of course.”
Loki’s placid features twisted in amusement, his dimples flashing in the morning sun through the windows high above. “I thought you’d never ask, mia cara.” he purred.
The thick tip of his manhood nudged against your entrance, making you whimper as your slid your hands over his shoulders. The clerical collar flexed against the thick vein straining in his neck. Rigid. Immovable. “Loki...yes...uhh-fuck-L-Loki-” you gasped loudly as he breached your slick entrance.
“-Don’t call me that…” he growled, deep lines in his forehead twitching with the effort of restraint as he inched slowly deeper, the edge of marble dragging against his turgid length. “-the m-mission.”
You smiled, eyes still shut as your lips stretched against your teeth in pleasure. “If someone s-somehow walks in on us right now...I think your c-cover is blown...uhhh g-god - regardless” you groaned as he bottomed out.
Twin moans bounced eerily around the walls of the empty church as he stilled, ricocheting back to you clinging to the god’s body with your legs wrapped around his hips. Loki nuzzled your ear, his hot breath making you buck against him. “Not necessarily, Agent. You would be surprised.” he smirked against your cheek.
He began to move, waves of muscle slapping gently against your open thighs. The thick veins lining his cock tugged against your fluttering walls, every pulse like a current through the last vestige of your resistance. Each roll of his hips was devastating, lilting moans of praise peppering your name in the air. You had never heard him say it like that. Come to think of it, you couldn’t recall him saying it at all.
The flats of your palms spread against the altar, sliding backwards as a golden candlestick clattered to the floor. It bounced several times, falling loudly down the steps as Loki lowered you backwards against his hand.
“You are so beautiful.” he murmured reverently against the dying, rolling echo of metal on marble, stooping to lower a kiss on the centre of your clavicle. “So beautiful…” he repeated quietly against a muffle of heated skin. You ran a hand through his curls, cupping the base of his skull as he thrust in melodic motion, making your calves tighten around his waist.
You bucked rhythmically against him, the motion of your bodies as smooth and poetic as the chant of his prayers. Somewhere, a bell began to toll.
Loki’s grip tightened on the back of your dress, his fingers grasping at the textured cheesecloth scratching against your spine. You drew forwards, strands of hair falling over your forehead as you took in the sight of Loki lost in the pleasure he found in you.
You could feel the muscles of his ass clenching beneath the drape of holy fabric hanging sluttishly against his hips, each squeeze of your thighs as he fucked you making you mewl his name. Fucks me? No. you thought desperately, arching your back against his hand. This is what it feels like when he’s making love.
Loki’s hand slid up your back, cupping the nape of your neck as he brought you forward to his open mouth. The kiss was needy, tasting every crevice of your lips and tongue against his own like he was departing for war.
“Mark me…” you gasped against his cheek when he broke for air, feeling the beat of his chuckle against your chest. “That would be against the terms of your request, I fear…” he groaned, lingering the head of his furiously hard cock just inside your pussy. “Gods, I can feel how much you want it.” he growled, circling the tip licentiously at the catch of your cunt.
Arousal slipped against the pull of his foreskin as he shamelessly devoured your emotions with his mind, wetness coating every inch of straining length. It pulsed, tiny flicks of his hips keeping you desperately on edge.
“Although perhaps…” he added mysteriously, a flash of mischief in his eyes.
Loki’s wide tip never left you as he leant gracefully to the side, fingers curling around the second ornate candlestick gracing the hallowed altar. He raised an eyebrow, enjoying the look of growing confusion on your face.
He brought it upwards, level to your searching eyes before tilting his head. Automatically, your back arched, pushing your chest forward as he mirrored his movement with a tilt of his hand.
The hot, pooled wax spilled against your chest, dripping on the mounds of flesh heaving gently with each shuddering breath. Loki groaned softly, watching the white substance melt leisurely in a trail beyond his sight down the neckline of your dishevelled dress.
“Perfect.” he murmured, setting the ornate candlestick back in place. He brought a finger to your skin, gathering the slowly hardening beeswax with intricate care. You looked down, seeing a thick circle had been formed on the curve of your left breast. A smile tugged at Loki’s lips, before his eyelids fluttered shut. You had clenched around the tip of his cock, reminding him.
“Patience, mia cara.” he growled playfully, bringing his hand between you with a flourish. In a low glow of green, something appeared between his fingers. It was thick, and short. It looked heavy, and...old.
“W-what is that?” you stammered, breath catching as he thrust another few inches inside your tightened pussy. Loki’s smile widened.
“My seal.” he said, flipping the object to face you. The base was a tarnished gold, scuffed with use and history that you couldn’t begin to fathom. On the metal, a double headed snake was carved, intricate endless tips wound around each other.
“Wars have begun, and been ended with this mark, Agent.” he murmured, exhaling hot breath gently on the circle of hardening wax on your breast. He licked his lips, eyes flickering to yours nervously. “And now...”
You gasped as the chill of metal pressed against your flesh, the cool edges over spilling their target. Loki rolled it from side to side in practised decorum, capturing your lips with his own. A slow tug let you know the seal had been withdrawn; before you heard the sound of the heavy token fall to the floor with a clang by his feet.
Loki’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs, pulling your spread legs flush to his hips as he bottomed out once more. A roar simmered in his throat as his grasp tightened; shallow, messy thrusts tilting into your centre as you squirmed on the side of the altar.
You could feel the urgency in every jab of his tongue, your walls fluttering with the first sparks of long-denied orgasm. “Loki, I’m c-coming…” you moaned in his ear, feeling him shudder as your arms tightened around his shoulders.
They slid down his biceps, grasping for purchase against the tattered fabric of his disguise as he rocked you over the edge of sanity. Climax shattered you from the inside out, cries of pleasure ringing in your ears as you came around him. The feral ache in your belly which had weighted you for weeks blossomed to a thousand strands of bliss, spreading and growing like wine in water. Loki’s pants grew shallow, careful thrusts becoming erratic delving deeper into the flood of your fresh cum.
His chest jolted, a hand flying to the edge of the marble altar by your thigh in crushing precision. You heard a harsh crack, the whites of his knuckles glaring as he spent himself inside your wet, pulsating heat with a primal, endless moan of your name.
And then there was silence, only wordless heavy breathing filling the warmed air between your bodies. Mussed hair fell around the god’s cheekbones, his eyes lowered as he wet his lips. He sighed.
“I plead mercy, Agent…” he murmured slowly, running the tip of his nose against your temple. You felt a shiver roll down your spine. “I will only ask you one last time. Swallow your pride, and tell me that you love me.”
A well of adrenaline flushed your blood, a deep longing to say the words flooding your mind before you came to your senses. “Tell me the truth, Loki” you said, brushing a strand of onyx from his brow. Your fingers grazed beneath his chin, raising his face to yours. “I need to know I can trust you-”
He inhaled sharply, withdrawing from your touch with a jolt of his head. “I...I cannot.” he said, his voice clouded beneath knitted brows.
“Why?!” you said incredulously, feeling his softening cock slide from your entrance. Sentimentality, forgotten.
“I cannot!” he shouted. You bit your lip as the malevolent echo ricochet endlessly. The look in his eyes was pained. The quiver of his lip, the slant of his brows. It was raw, you realised with a drop in your stomach. It was real.
“Loki, I don’t think you understand. I just need you to be honest with me without being so…-”
“-So what, Agent? Myself?”
You let out a sigh of exasperation. “I was going to say dramatic.” you muttered, as Loki’s magic glimmered up his body. Strips of holy ripped green fabric stitched itself together, the embroidery as perfectly matched as it had been before you ever touched him.
“I think I understand perfectly well.” he muttered, smoothing his sex-wild hair behind his ears before impaling you with a piercing glare.
“No matter how many times I try to open myself to you, it is only the shadows of my heart you linger in. It is only in the depths of my darkness you feel truly comfortable – just like all the rest. And when it comes to declaring where you stand, in the shadows you remain.” he growled, stepping towards you.
He loomed, his lips hovering tantalisingly close, his scent mingled with heavy incense and spices swirling in the air of the sacrosanct space.
Loki’s eyes searched yours, a silent plead wavering behind his hardened features. Your breaths felt heavy, every drag of air suffocating as you tried to speak and failed.
Loki shook his head. “I wanted you to find the light.” he rasped quietly, trailing his knuckles down the bodice of your dress before thinking better of it. They clenched in a fist. “But I see now how this must be. How it has always been for us.”
In one swift movement, he ascended the steps, beginning to stride down the narrow aisle towards the entrance. The theatrical vestments billowed around his ankles, as imposing in church finery as he was in Asgardian battle armour.
A grating ca-lunk of the metal bar sliding across its hold unaided made your blood run cold. Loki’s outstretched arms blew the ancient wooden doors wide on their hinges, banging menacingly against the stone.
What have I done? you thought with a fierce chill; stunned panic rising as your body seemed to turn to lead in the wake of his heavy footsteps.
The wax of his seal suddenly crumbled to dust on your skin, blowing mockingly around your collarbone from the breeze of the open church doors. You felt it stick to your moist lips as Loki disappeared to the bustling piazza beyond the sanctuary's boundaries without a backwards glance.
“Mercy.” you gasped under your breath, running your fingers over the sticky cast the wax seal had left over your cleavage. Over my heart.
Casting a glance over your shoulder, you felt your gaze drawn inescapably up to the majestic baroque stained glass window, the brightness almost blinding.
Your eyelids fluttered shut as the church doors slammed closed with shuddering finality. “Mercy.” you whispered again, deafening silence the only response.
A/N: And here we are - the final set is imminent! Cross your fingers my loves, here we go!
To be continued in Final Bids
Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection
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The end when she pleads mercy, god. Your writing is precious and so beautiful.
And when she called him "Padre", and he spoke in Latin, I'm deceased, I'm ruined. Literally the best thing I've found, the sacrilege, the kink, will be thinking about it for days. And I will be binge-reading the rest, can't wait to see the next ones!!! You're amazing.
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