twdeadlysins' fic recs

“It’s just - it’s so loud.” You hate the way your voice sounds, so small and scared, but you know Bucky holds no judgement in his heart for you. You’ve seen him in the exact same position, struggling through the same logic-shattering anxiety.

There’s a small moment of relative silence, wind and rain still creating a symphony of chaotic noise in the background, but it’s almost… muted. Dulled out by the sincerity in his eyes, and you know he’s serious about helping you - just like how you were serious about helping him with the roles were reversed, and just knowing that helps to ease some of the illogical guilt that gnaws at you.

“Can you read to me?” You ask, nodding at the book he was lost in before the storm made itself known. “I just… I need a distraction and your voice is soothing.”

A soft smile finds his face as he nods, picking up the book and shifting back to lean against the arm of the couch. Bucky curls his finger at you, beckoning you forward until you’re tucked between his solid body and the plush couch cushions. A feeling of safety settles over you. Even though storms are unpredictable and scary, Bucky’s got you. No matter what. His chest rumbles beneath you as he reads and you don’t really know what the book is about, especially since he starts where he left off, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

Soon the intense storm tapers off into a quiet pattering of rain and at some point, the lights flicker back on. You don’t know how long you’ve laid there in the safety of his arms, just enjoying his voice and the way his hand rubs up and down your bicep, but you never want it to stop. As electricity hums back to full power through the house, Bucky pauses and glances down at you.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs, his fingers locking with yours.

“Keep going,” You say with a shake of your head before lifting your joined hands to kiss his knuckles.

Bucky chuckles, gives your forehead a quick peck, and settles back in to keep reading. And if both of you end up falling asleep like that, the book propped open on his belly while you both snooze away, then so be it.

{Taglist} 

the idea of finding the one for you and slowly falling in love with them sounds so… romantic.

ever since you’ve seen disney films as a kid, the concept of finding your prince charming has been implanted in your mind for as long as you could remember.

of course as you grew older, that idea has been pushed to the back of your mind because you’re an independent woman. and you don’t need any man.

but now, rounding off your first anniversary with jj, you realized that you did get a chance to experience your little childhood fairytale.

said movies always had picture-perfect couples in their most enviable clothing, so on your first anniversary together, you realized that you did get a chance to experience your little childhood fairytale.

with your head on his shoulder, images came to mind: the damsel (not in distress) and her hero, the heroine and her love, the princess and her prince…

it was funny how he completed the look, too; with his dreamy blue eyes and soft blonde hair, you were a goner.

“hey, princess,” he smiled, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “bad news, my malibu beach babe, i’ll have to take a shift to work today.”

you pouted jokingly out of habit, and he gave you a quick peck as he couldn’t help himself.

“i promise i’ll make it up to you though,” he said with an encouraging laugh.

it was fine for you, you knew how important his job was. plus, it gave you more time to prepare his gift.

jj 🤍

hi

i’ll pick u up at 6 on the dot

wear something fancy — and i mean kook typa fancy

k?

k. love u bye

as soon as six p.m. striked, clad in the fanciest dress you could find in your closet and some wedges you borrowed from sarah, you were ready.

once the doorbell rang, you clutched your purse and jj’s gift in your hand. you composed yourself for a moment before letting your hand turn the knob.

“oh wow,” you whispered, eyes slowly training up and down as you took in the classy appearance your boyfriend sported. he was wearing a tuxedo, which fitted him perfectly, and the same charming smile you fell in love with.

“on a scale of one to ten, how uncomfortable are you in this tux?” you teased, fixing the lapels of his suit.

jj pretended to think, letting out a thoughtful hum. “broke the scale.”

you laughed at his comment, and his smile grew wider at the sound. then he suddenly remembered the flowers he was holding. “oh! these are for you, m’lady.”

you smiled at the sight of your favorite flowers collected in a beautiful bouquet. it was different from the usual wildflowers he would pick up on the side of the street for you, but you love them just as much. “thank you, jj. they’re pretty.”

“like you,” he winked as he tucked his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. “i worked an extra shift today so i could buy them for you.”

he grabbed your hand and started guiding you towards the car he borrowed from kie.

you furrowed your eyebrows and tilted your head a bit. “jj- what? why would you-“

“c’mon, y/n/n,” jj dragged, opening the car door for you. “just trust me, ‘kay?”

and you did. you spent the whole car ride talking about each other’s day, singing along the blasting music, and exchanging stolen glances.

only your confusion grew as you neared a fancy restaurant at figure 8. jj didn’t answer any more of your questions as he handed the car keys for valet.

kooks of all kinds started turning their heads to look at the both of you. your confusion matching theirs.

“uhh, reservation for two under maybank?” jj said, sending a tight-lip smile to the clerk at the front desk.

“right over here, sir.” he guided the both of you to an outside booth which overviews the beach, fairy lights streamed from corner to corner, and candles lit up.

jj pulled back the seat for you as the gentleman that he is, the soft smile on his lips never leaving his face.

the food was immediately served as you sat down, you guessed that he ordered beforehand. it was your favorite, too.

“wow, jj. i-“ you let out a soft chuckle, looking at him with nothing but just love and adoration. “i don’t know what to say, this is all so amazing.”

“i took up a lot of extra shifts and saved for months just so i could treat you like a princess, even if it’s just for the night.” jj grinned, his cheeks lighting up with a bright red. “well, let’s dig in.”

as time passed by, you and jj were having a lot of fun. you and him finished every dish served on your table while quietly mocking the kooks around you.

your laughters slowly subsided, traces of small smiles gracing both your lips.

your table has been cleared from any more expensive food, the only thing left was the bottle of wine the both of you had been nursing.

“oh! i almost forgot about your gift,” jj exclaimed, he dug through his pocket and pulled out a small box. he opened it and stared at it for a few seconds, a small sigh escaping his lips. though he recovered soon as a grin replaced his momentary sadness.

“i want you to have this.” he pushed the velvet box towards you. “it used to be my mom’s, she told me to keep it before she died — said that i should give it to the girl i love, the girl i know i’d spend the rest of my life with, and well…”

“jj…” you whispered in shock as you stared at the ring. it was a silver band with a small flower that adorned tiny gemstones.

“fits perfectly.” he murmured as he slipped it on the ring finger of your right hand. “this promise ring… is proof that my heart belongs to you, and only you. i’ll love you for as long as i live, and that’s a promise.”

you let out a teary laugh as jj planted a soft kiss on your knuckles. “you should’ve let me give you your gift first. if i had known you’d take me out to a kook resto and give me your mom’s ring, i would’ve gotten you something better.”

you shyly brought out the small paper bag and pushed it towards him. “you brought your walkman, right?”

“yeah,” he unclipped the device from his pants and placed it on top of the table as he opened his gift.

it was a mixtape with your handwriting in front. to the love of my life, 08.13.21

you flashed him a bashful smile as you watched him insert it in his walkman and put on his headphones. your voice was the first thing he heard.

hi, jj. happy anniversary, baby! i know this probably isn’t the best gift that you could ever receive for our first year, but i wanted to give you something special that you could remember us by. so here’s to more love and adventures, i love you!

you watched as a smile tugged at his lips as he continued to listen to the mixtape. you spent quite some time putting together songs that reminded you of him, inside jokes that only the two of you could laugh about, songs that the both of you slow danced to, and every possible song that could summarize your whole relationship.

jj hit pause on the device and abruptly stood up from his seat, earning a few stares from the people around you.

he softly cupped your face and brought your lips to his. “god, i love you so much.”

“i love you, too.” you smiled as you leaned forward to give him another kiss. “i’ll love you forever, and that’s a promise.”

jj grabbed your things on the table as he raced to the door with you, hand-in-hand. “yeah- not a bar of gold can compare to this lovely lady right here, people, ya hear me?”

“nothing!” he finished, laughing with you as he grabbed the keys from the valet.

“sir! sir!” the waiter called out, “you still have to pay!”

you laughed out loud as jj paused. “oh, right…”

he patted around for his wallet, and grabbed three hundred dollars, slipping it through the waiter’s front pocket.

“thanks. where was i?”

with a grin, jj placed his arm around your shoulder.

you hummed thoughtfully, playfully tapping your chin as if in thought. “i think you were saying something about how nothing can compare to me?”

“oh hell yeah!” he whooped. “i’m the luckiest man in the whole world and y’all can suck it!”

general taglist: @tatesimper @bluvclouds @i-love-scott-mccall @miraclesoflove @rosie-posie08

Carol taught him how to make braids in just a few days of his best friend's lessons and experimenting, Daryl knew how to do six types of braids. He didn't let you tie your hair by yourself ever again.

When you laid in the bed at night, he'd often play with your hair or caress it, and it almost instantly made you drift off to sleep. It was an act of intimacy and love, something that Daryl was always scared of displaying in public, but playing with strands of your hair, whether it was in front of others or alone, he felt comfortable doing it.

So when he got back to Alexandria after a week-long run, and you greeted him at the gate with short hair that barely touched your shoulders, he was in shock and a little sad.

"What happened to yer hair?" he asked when you took him in your embrace. Daryl's hands almost immediately found their way into your hair, and he run his fingers through the length of it.

"I had a little walker accident when we were visiting Hilltop," you responded with a sigh. "Don't worry, though! I'm fine!" You assured him before he could start searching for any bruises or scratches.

The memory of a walker grabbing your hair in their rotten clutch still clearly visible in your mind. You blinked the tears off and smiled at Daryl when he let you go. He inspected you for a few seconds before taking your hand in his and starting to walk to the house you shared with Carol.

"I like it." Daryl's voice cut through the silence, making you grin from ear to ear.

"Carol helped me even it out. I told you she has magic hands." You giggled softly.

"Course she did." Daryl smiled and looked away. "I'll miss yer long hair," you barely heard him mumble.

"Me too." You squeezed his hand to comfort him. "But don't worry, Daryl! It will grow back in no time."

“I have kneeled to no one,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, lips brushing the delicate skin. Shivers wrack down your spine, igniting goosebumps in trails down your bare arms. “But for you, darling? For you, I would do anything.”

You aren’t sure if it’s his words or if it’s the shelter his hands provide that brings heat to your face as he finds the curve of your waist, palms resigned to their fate at the flare of your hip where his fingers spin silk out of your skin. The fine hairs there raise—his touch like static.

His nose draws a line down your neck, tracing the tendon there. “I think you quite like that idea, my love.”

“What?” you manage to say between breaths as Loki’s lips, soft and cool against your warm skin, meeting the juncture of your shoulder where he’s tattooed bites and bruises before. His teeth plunge into your flesh, your head rolling back until Loki catches it in his hand, fingers digging into your scalp for a moment too long before he releases.

His tongue soothes the wound. “The idea that you could control me. That you could command me to kneel at your feet and I would kiss them. That you hold a power over me that stretches beyond sex, beyond love, beyond souls.”

Blunt nails nearly piercing your jaw, Loki turns your head until you face the mirror, forcing you to look. You look positively ravaged and yet all your clothes are still on—your body draped over him like a heavy curtain, knees turned in and barely holding your weight. One of Loki’s arms holds your waist, propping you up against him, your toes grazing the carpeted floor.

His eyes, intense and icy blue, pierce yours through the reflection. “You own me, my love,” he says, but the smoldering look he gives you leaves you weak and wanting. “I am but yours to command.”

You suck in a gasp, trying to twist in his hold to face him, but Loki refuses to let you.

“Command?” You stumble over the word, blinking slowly, lashes heavy. “What—What do you mean?”

“Tell me, darling,” he whispers. “I belong to no one else, and will not cede to anyone like this but you. So tell me. Command me,” he urges, softer this time.

Your words are shaky. “Prove it.”

And, as though you cast magic upon him, Loki’s fingers ease their grasp on your face and he relaxes his grip on your waist. He helps you balance on your feet once more, and then he curves his body around yours to stand in front of the mirror. There, his eyes never leaving yours once, Loki sinks to the floor on his knees.

It’s a heady feeling, you realize—looking down the slope of your nose at a God bowed at your feet. His inky hair falls in waves around his shoulders and you want to wrap your hand in it and pull it back. Instead, you inhale, trembling.

“Touch me,” you say, but it comes out in a wisp of a word.

“Again,” Loki encourages. “With more conviction, my love. With confidence in the bond we share.”

You roll your shoulders back, shuddering another breath. “Touch me. Touch my legs. Show me how much you love them.”

Loki answers with his hands. His palms first, as he grasps your ankles with a gentle grace and slides upward. His fingers then, tracing the muscle of your calves until he finds the thread of veins behind the backs of your knees, huffing a laugh when you twitch from the sensation. His nails last, as he clutches at the soft flesh of your thighs and drags them down the backs. You nearly lose your balance at the feeling, but Loki wraps his arms around your bottom half and holds you steady.

From there, he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips that sends a fire rippling through you. That same mouth is incredibly close to your clothed cunt, and now you wish, more than anything, that your clothes were off.

But first, you want his gone—a tactic he uses all too often with you.

“Stand up,” you tell him, and in an instant he rises. He’s too tall, towering above you, and you choose not to tip your chin upward to meet his gaze. Instead, you focus on his pants, gesturing to them. “Strip. Everything.”

“As you wish,” he murmurs with a soft smile. Loki finds the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, mussing his curls, revealing the hard, lean plates of his pale chest that you long to run your hands over. Then, he shoves the waistband of his sweat pants down and over his trim hips, letting the material fall to the floor before stepping out of them and throwing them somewhere around the room.

“Everything,” you remind him, eyeing his black boxers. A grin splits his lips and Loki slowly peels his underwear off, your gaze following the trail of soft hair leading from his belly button as he soon exposes the defined angle of his pelvis, before finally—finally—his hard cock springs forth and his boxers drop.

Loki looks like a marble statue, a David carved from stone. Everything in you wants to bend to his will instead, to touch him and worship him the way that he deserves. To love him the way he deserves, the love he has gone without for so long. But part of you understands that he needs this just as much as he needs you when you submit to him.

He needs to bow to you. To show you that he trusts you the way that you trust him.

“You’re beautiful,” you say in a breath, eyes roaming the sharp lines that define the man in front of you, the discolored scars littering his body like a battlefield. “You’re so gorgeous, Loki. I love you so much.”

And, it’s so slight that you almost wouldn’t notice it in the darkness of the room, but Loki’s cheeks pinken under your praise. Confidence, cool like the rush of fresh water, surges through you.

“Come here,” you beckon him, holding your hand out to cup his face once he steps closer. Loki leans into your palm, his eyes fluttering shut. “Kneel,” you whisper.

You don’t watch him this time, busy with shucking your shirt off and throwing it across the room, leaving you only in your lacy bra and a pair of sleep shorts. Then, you reach down, holding out a hand, and he intertwines your fingers. With him steadying you, you lift your foot up and point it toward him—a silent command.

Loki takes your foot in his hand and presses his lips to the top of it, flicking his eyes upward to meet your steady gaze.

Beyond sex. Beyond love. Beyond souls. An unbreakable bond.

“Undress me.”

When he’s sure you have your footing once more, Loki wastes no time. His fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts and tug them down, forehead laying against your stomach as he breathes in the scent of your arousal. As he drags the fabric down, stripping you, his hands worship your legs once more. His fingers are soft as he grasps each of your ankles and helps you out of your bottoms. You unclasp your bra, too impatient to wait, and fling it off.

Now, completely bare, you can feel your slick when your thighs press together. Sticky, sweet, drenched. And you want him, you want him so bad, and you want everything.

But you don’t know—you don’t know what you want.

“I—Loki,” you stutter out, frozen. Suddenly, your nerves are static and itching with new anxiety. A flush floods your face, not in passion, but embarrassment. You didn’t think this far ahead. There is so much choice in front of you and what if you mess up?

But he senses this, evidently, and Loki’s hands slide up your hips to hold onto your waist, squeezing you there gently. His thumbs rub slow circles into your skin in an attempt to soothe you.

“Darling,” he speaks lowly, “what do you want from me? Would you like me to pleasure you? Or take you to bed?”

You swallow. “Yes.”

He nuzzles the soft flesh of your stomach, always patient with you. “What would you like, love? Your wish is my command. Your command is mine to follow.”

Suddenly, you catch your own image in the mirror. It’s so starkly different from the other times that you’ve seen yourself in this same reflection. Loki has put you in many positions before, but none of them have looked like this. You, standing steadily, with Loki knelt in front of you, the muscles of his back rippling in the mirror. The curve of his ass, the strong tendons in his thighs.

Closing your eyes and committing the image to memory, you take a deep breath through your nose and exhale through parted lips, calming yourself again.

“I want you to pleasure me,” you say, voice a little unsteady again, but Loki smiles up at you.

“Of course, my goddess.” But he makes no move, and it dawns on you that your command was unfinished.

“Your mouth,” you tell him. “Use your mouth on me, Loki.”

Silently, he takes your hand in his, and you grip onto him tightly. It’s such a small gesture, and yet so overwhelming—that he knows he needs to hold you there when your knees become weak. It’s clear how much he adores you, and it brings the sting of tears to your eyes that you blink back.

Loki eases your thigh over his shoulder, spreading your cunt so wantonly for him, and then his tongue is devouring it all. He licks up every ounce of your wetness until you don’t know what is slick and what is saliva. Already your knees buckle at the feeling as your head drops back, and Loki wraps his arm around the small of your back to hold you there.

You moan his name and your free hand tangles in his long locks, gripping his curls like they’re the reins to the beast who feasts upon your core. His mouth is magic, his tongue busy writing poetry addressed to your clit while his fingers squeeze tighter around your own. Everything feels off balance as you stand there, eyes hazy and half-lidded, watching as the God between your legs seeks to destroy you in the throes of pleasure. The leg that you stand on trembles, weak.

“Take me to bed,” you command, and though your voice is breathy with a moan, it’s stronger than anything else you’ve told him to do tonight. Loki immediately answers your call. Not even taking his mouth away from your cunt, he pulls his hand away from yours to scoop you up into his arms, and then your back is against the bed, twisting the sheets beneath you, and oh, oh, oh, his shoulders have spread your legs wider for him and his nose is bumping your clit as he fucks into your tight hole, your spine arched in immeasurable delights.

But your eyes snap open with a new idea—one that makes your face even hotter if that’s possible, and your thighs squeeze around Loki’s head in anticipation.

“Wait,” you pant out, pulling his head back by his raven locks and forcing him to release you. “Stop.”

When he comes up for air, his eyes are glistening as much as his lips are, covered in the honey he’s sucked from your center. The same tongue that was ravaging you only seconds ago darts out to clean his lips of your essence, a low groan in his chest at the taste. Your grip on his hair tightens at the sight as a new flood of juice slickens your pussy yet again and Loki hisses in pleasure.

“Yes, my queen?” he asks, his hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as he waits. He seems all too content that you’ve assumed such control over him, but even so, the thread of anxiety is still tugging at your stomach and you swallow back the fear you think might seep into your next words.

“I want to try something,” you say, fingers finally untangling from his hair.

“I would have you want for nothing,” he says, crawling up your body to come closer to you. “What shall I give you, my goddess?”

“Lay back,” you tell him, but the shake is back. “I want to—to—”

Loki’s hands frame your face and he brings your lips to his own, kissing you sweetly. Your own taste invades your mouth as his tongue sweeps inside, and then he’s pulling away and his thumb is rubbing the bone of your cheek.

“Say it,” he says, and it’s the softest demand you think you’ve ever heard from him.

“I want to ride your face,” you whisper, and your hand comes up to sweep over his throat, fingers smoothing over his adam’s apple as it bobs. “I want you to make me come like that.”

Without word, Loki lays back and takes you with him, flipping you both. Suddenly you’re on top—a position that you’ve not spent as much time in—with your thighs bracketing his trim waist and your hands on his chest. You don’t wait for his approval this time. Immediately, you start to shift forward, Loki’s hands on your hips to help you, until you are on your knees right above his face. Your own hands grip the headboard of the bed, using the leverage to keep your balance.

“Sit here, darling,” Loki says and the breath of his words is warm on your quivering cunt. “My face is but a throne for you. Take it—please.”

Please. The word shocks you into shivers, a gasp pulled from your mouth like there’s something magnetic in the air, and you sink down upon his lips. And, like a wild animal thrown its first bone, Loki’s hands clutch at your waist until there are sure to be bruises and he yanks you down further, until there’s no space between the two of you, until he’s surely inhaling nothing but you.

“Loki!” you call out, first in anxiety, and then in pure pleasure as his tongue delves further into your pussy. Your mind darkens, blanking, void of anything except Loki, Loki, Loki. Your grip on the headboard tightens, nails scratching invisible grooves into the wood as you cling desperately onto whatever you can as Loki works your clit over and over and over until you’re frenzied.

Your hips move on their own, grinding and rolling over his face like ocean waves looking to crash upon the beach, to meet their end. And, as his lips find your clit and create a wet seal around it, sucking and licking and guiding you higher and higher and higher toward your peak, Loki provides.

With a sob that sounds like choked-off letters of his name, you come with rapture. Your body arches, head thrown back, thighs clenched around Loki’s head. Using all your strength, you try to lift yourself away from his face, but Loki’s arm becomes a bar around your waist and he wrenches you back down and licks up every single drop of the honey that leaks from your throbbing cunt.

“Loki,” you cry again, near a whimper, and then he’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs and easing you down his body until you’re collapsed against his chest. Through the haze of your post-orgasmic bliss, you watch his eyes as they explore your spent body, raking over your entire form.

“You are gorgeous,” he murmurs, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Sometimes, I do not understand it.”

“Understand what?” you ask, still breathless, still reeling, still burning at the core.

His eyes are heavy when he meets your eyes. “How you have captured me so and yet you do not see it. You could run at any moment and I would be helpless, unable to give chase, though I would be desperate to do so. At times, I think you should. And in those times, I wonder if it is monstrous of me to think that if you did leave, that I would not be able to sleep or eat or breathe until I went after you and begged at your feet for you to come back.”

It’s a punch to the gut—all your insides freezing, frosted edges sharp and jabbing painfully into your soft belly. Immediately, you shoot up, hands braced against his hardened abdomen to look at him more clearly. Yes, the eyes that you love so much are so sad right now. He reminds you of the scared little boy you first saw in him when he came to Midgard with his brother. Terrified and alone and misunderstood. It hurts to see that again, his eyes like the dark depths of the ocean, unexplored and teeming with the monsters only heard of by the dead they’ve ravaged.

“You think I would let you leave?” you ask him, jaw loose and lips parted. Loki blinks, brows drawn together in confusion. “You say I don’t see how I’ve captured you, but you don’t see the same.”

As if you can pour all your feelings for him into one kiss, you smash your lips to his in a bruising kiss, something you aren’t used to initiating. You nip at his bottom lip, slip your tongue into his mouth, taste yourself on the tongue that tangles with your own.

“You haven’t captured me, Loki,” you say against his mouth. “I wouldn’t run if you gave me the chance. I’m not with you because you’ve caged me.”

You rock onto your knees and reach behind your back, fingers brushing over his cock that is still hard against his stomach. When you take it into your palm, gripping the velvet skin, Loki’s head falls back and he groans. In one swift movement, your wet heat envelops him as you sink down upon his cock, gasping. There, you sit atop him, your juice pooling in the finely-groomed hairs at the base of him.

Loki makes a sound you’ve never heard before—a cross between a moan and a guttural growl—as you rock back to grasp his thighs like a handle. You watch with fascination how his throat moves as he swallows, giving away how much your cunt swallowing his cock affects him.

“I’m with you because I love you,” you pant, breathless. “Because I chose you, Loki. I choose you. I want you—every part of you that exists. The good, the bad, the broken. I own you. I own you the same way you own those parts of me, and happily.”

When you smile down at him, you realize that Loki is looking at you as if dumbstruck. As if lightning has just rained down from the ceiling and shocked him speechless. He raises a hand toward you, fluttering and trembling anxiously, and it falls upon your cheek. You lean into his touch, lips peeled back and curled to show your teeth as you laugh a little.

“You are…” He struggles to find the words as his other hand falls to your bare hip. “You are the rarest thing in all the galaxies that might exist.”

And, like that, the air in the room shifts and Loki’s fingers find purchase in your soft flesh and he bucks up, suddenly and deliciously.

“And yet,” you say between gasps, “you are the one who keeps me. The only one allowed to ruin me.”

Loki’s hand caresses down your jaw until it falls at your throat, fingers splayed out in dominance there, a necklace made of bones and skin and him. A darkness consumes his eyes, pupils gone wide with a new sort of lust that wasn’t there before.

“Then ruin you I shall, love.”

He plants his feet on the bed, shifting you forward until you have nothing left to hold onto, and then he’s fucking up into you. Loki sets a pace that is punishing, bouncing you up and down as stuttered moans fall from your lips like broken prayers to his altar. He is your God and you’ll scream his name to the heavens until his father hears it in Valhalla.

Loki’s fingers tighten around your neck now, not squeezing, but holding you there against him as his cock pistons in and out of your tight pussy wet with its own slick. Like this, he reaches parts so deep inside of you they’ve been all but forgotten, the tip scraping against the one place that makes your eyes roll back into your head. From the way his hips force you to rock back and forth, your clit grinds and drags on the bone of his pelvis, creating a friction you didn’t know you needed until right now.

“I have kneeled to no one,” Loki repeats, desperate and gritty, in your ear, “but now I have kneeled to you, my queen.”

His cock slips in and out of you at a pace you can’t keep up with. You’re unable to do anything but to sit atop him and take it, bent nearly in half as he breaks your body with his thrusts.

“I have kissed your feet the way I have kissed the most precious parts of you,” he says, and his hand travels from your neck up into your hair to force your lips to his, a demonstration. His tongue is everywhere and the kiss is sloppy, spit-filled, and your bottom lip is bleeding when you pull back from lack of air.

Your cunt throbs and contracts around him, calling out, clenching, needy. You feel it in your muscles, in your bones, in every part of you that Loki owns—the threads of your existence unraveling into what will be your end.

“No one else has this power over me. I would trust no one else the way I have trusted you, and yet you will still let me ruin you in the same way?”

With your head thrown back, your pleasure rising and rising and rising, you scratch your nails down his chest until red lines decorate his pale skin.

“I was ruined the moment I met you,” you sob out, nearly there. “You ruined me, Loki, and I would let you do it again. I would beg you. Please, please ruin me!”

He hisses as you tighten around him, climbing toward the highest peak. His hands find your waist, tight around you, and he helps you to meet the powerful thrust of his hips. You scream aloud as his cock hammers against your insides, filling you, satiating you until it’s almost too much that it’s not enough, giving you everything you ever could have asked for.

“Beg for me,” Loki snarls. “Beg for me the way that I beg for you in every single way!”

“Please, please, please,” you repeat like a mantra, never-ending, punctuated by the head of his cock brushing your cervix.

And just as you hit the highest note of the heavens, Loki’s last words surround you like a wave crashing over your head.

“Ruining you is my greatest delight.”

Your vision goes white as you go under, back snapped in an impossible curve, lips parted in a scream that you don’t hear as the orgasm washes over you like cool water. Your thighs tremble as honey gushes from the crevice that Loki fucks into, tainting your ruined pussy with his spend as he stuffs you full.

“I love you,” he whispers as you collapse atop him, sweat matting your hair to your forehead. You lay there, catching your breath, as the waves of your orgasm roll through you, making you clench around his cock, still inside you. Loki hisses in delayed pleasure, but he wraps you up in his arms and refuses to pull out of you, even as the mixture of your come seeps out around him.

“I love you,” you reply in a mumble, barely coherent. He chuckles at this, petting your hair as you wind down.

It’s finally quiet in your bedroom, no sound but the labored breath that comes from your as you try to calm your racing heart. Loki is unbothered, barely having broken a sweat, but his eyes are glassy and there is a loopy smile on his face that is reserved only for you in these times, and it makes your heart feel full.

“Do you truly beg for me?” you ask him, a finger tracing designs into his naked chest.

“Indeed,” he replies, staring up at the ceiling. “In less vocal ways, I do.”

“Oh,” you say, burrowing your face into his skin. He huffs a laugh and you feel it rumble through his body.

“While you may show devotion like this, in begging for your own ruination, I beg for you in other ways. How I seek you out first in whatever room I may walk into, despite knowing that you may not be there. Or how I ask for you to clean my wounds, to bandage me after battle. This is how I beg for you, darling.”

When you raise your head to look at him, Loki takes your head to guide you to him and captures your lips in his, a promise. A vow of honesty.

“However,” he continues, “I wanted to bow to you like this tonight. I wanted to beg for you in the way you so often beg for me. Devotion through submission.”

“I know,” you say, choking on the words. “You were beautiful. Thank you for trusting me. Thank you for… letting me try.”

He smiles. “You need not thank me. As I said, love, this power that you hold over me stretches beyond the simple act of sex. We have a bond that is written in the stars, forged into a constellation, darling. I would give you anything if only you asked for it—and my submission, giving up my control to you, is but one of those things.”

Your fingers slide over his jawline, tracing the angle of his face. Then, you brush his hair away from where it lays at his forehead, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I would give my life for you,” he says as if it was a simple thing. “I would break my soul apart for you.”

“And I would die with you,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek. “So don’t—don’t leave me, Loki.”

He inhales, shakily, and then rocks his hips into yours again. You squeak in pleasure, still sensitive from your first orgasms, and then a giggle falls from your lips as you feel him stiffening inside of you.

“Again?” you tease, flicking his nose. Loki’s face morphs from pensive into something all too mischievous.

“Well, when you speak of dying for me, love, you know it turns me on.”

Loki grasps your hips and lifts you, pulling out of your spent cunt, and then he’s twisting your bodies until you’re set on your hands and knees and he’s behind you, palming the cheek of your ass. Already you can feel the apex of your thighs slicken further, your core burning for his attention yet again.