Obviously you're here because you love our God of Mischief. And perhaps you wonder what everyday life and problems would be like with Loki at your side ?
Fluff / Angst / Smut (quite a range) - please do not read if you're under 18 Midgardian years...
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Note: I was going to make this a separate series, but I honestly just don't have the time, but there will be more of Dark HER/You! I hope you enjoy though! L xxx
Tags/Warnings: Dark Themes / Use of Occult - Sex Magic, Dark Magic, Blood Magic / Void State / (don't ask me how I know about all this stuff) / Loki being a little simp
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Loki stood amongst the circle of lit candles. The flames dancing in shadows along the lightless walk of his chambers. A dagger: the chosen dagger for her, in the grip of his large palm as he held it firmly. The God of Mischief circled the tip of the dagger around in the air above his head, as his lips began the prayer:
"My Goddess, hear me. I make this offering to you on this eve. An offering of gratitude, and of proof of my love for you. Goddess of Death - please, hear me. Please, come to me. To your God. You, my Goddess, have my undying love and fedility".
With the closing of his prayer, Loki lowered the dagger and sliced across the neck of the restrained and gagged Hydra agent, that was in the grips of his other clenched fist. The blood gushed from the wound along his neck and into the solid gold bowl that sat in front of Loki, within the circle of protection. Hopefully, this was enough for you this time. He had tried calling you through subtle prayer and offerings, and then he had tried to call you through Sex Magick; through the heights of each of his orgasms as he knelt before the altar he had erected for you, which is where he stood now but with his latest offering. Your altar, covered in white Calla Lilies: the flowers of death, and now the offering of the sacrificial blood. Now, he had called you through death itself, and it was only a matter of time before the God of Mischief & Chaos was united with the Goddess that he was so deeply in love with.
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The New York sky was dark with the absent moon, as the residents of the tower were deep within slumber, all of them, including Loki. Once discarding the body of the sacrificed Hydra agent, the smitten God returned to his rooms to gaze upon the painting of you that hung above your altar. A newish painting it was, as you were the new and reincarnated Goddess of Death. He remembers the day when you were anointed to your role by Odin. He was so young, as were you. But there you were before a young Loki who had not yet discovered his true heritage, before he attempted to destroy an entire realm, and drop himself from the bridge in an attempt on his life but falling into torture instead. He fell in love with you the day of your ceremony, and when he fell, when he was nearly burnt alive by the Mad Titan, Loki swore he could see you. He was trying to call you, for the reason of death and peace, but now as he meditated before your painting, as he did religiously every night, he was now calling you for the reason of love.
The painting of you was the last thing the prince saved from Asgard before its total destruction. Loki was steering through the vault of Odin's most treasured valuables, with such a pace, desperately searching through the relics for the Crown of Surtur, when he saw the gold framed painting. The infatuated God hid the painting within his pocket of subspace before fleeing with the crown. And now, you were on his wall, hung high and mighty, looking down upon the God who would stop at no end to summon you.
"Loki".
The God's sleeping body jolted awake as he heard his name being sung throughout his dream. The voice that sung; so sweet, so alluring, so deadly. Like a siren's call to death... sweet death. He couldn't move his eyes at first, it was as if he was stuck in the void state between sleep and wake. Now, he could see himself, laying on his back between his silkened sheets, yet he noticed that his eyes were closed.
"Loki". That silkened voice sung again. "You called".
He opened his eyes, yet his eyes were still closed. His body sat upright, yet he was still laying down. As he sat up, he gasped within the dimmed darkness, yet, his mouth was still closed. There you were, standing at the foot of his bed. Your long black dress, that sat off your shoulders, shaped every curve around your full figure. The full sleeves also acted as a cape of sorts, as the material flowed over the back of your arms, right to the ground. There were the smallest, most delicate, bits of silver scattered throughout your long, full, hair that flowed behind you. The silver seeped over to the centre of your forehead, over your third eye, the sparkling luminaries that were connecting you to all realms. Loki watched you raising your hands towards him as you sang his name once again. Your fingertips and hands were completely black, but there too, were luminaries sparkling across the deep darkness on your hands. The tiny stars even trailed over your lengthy pointed black nails, dancing to each point.
Despite all of your darkness, there was the most calming aura around you, that also emitted through your voice. Your face, stunningly beautiful with the most sincere, subduing, smile over your tinted lips.
"Dear Goddess... you're here... you've blessed me with your presence". He whispered through his closed mouth.
"Not quite. Why do you call to me, Loki Laufeyson?". You sung.
"What do you mean not quite?". His heart rate that had soured the instant he saw you, believing that he had been worthy enough to call you, however; it would seem he was not.
"Why are you summoning me? What is the purpose?". You elaborated on your previous question.
"Love. I am in love with you, my Goddess. And I wish to be worthy enough for you, to love you, to worship you, to pleasure you. For you to be mine as I am yours". Loki rose to his knees on his bed, and bowed before you.
"Oh, how sweet of you, but alas, to be deemed worthy enough to love me —to touch me— you must make a greater offering, my dear Prince of Asgard & Jotunheim". Loki lifted himself up to his kneeling position, raising his eyebrow in question of what more he must do, but then, he saw you step closer and lower your face so it was before his. "But for the effort of your offerings so far—", your whispered words lightly tickled his cool lips, teasing him of your taste, daring him to stiffen his lips so they connected to yours, before you had allowed it. Howbeit, he dared not, so you stiffened your lips and kissed him tenderly.
"Sweet Valhalla", Loki whimpered as you withdrew your lips from him. He looked up to you with those large emerald eyes, filled with doe that is for you, "Please, please tell me what to offer you. I want to please you of course. I want to be worthy to be yours". You looked down upon him, and traced under his defined chin and sharp jaw with your blackened finger.
"You already know what calls me. Just do not let them be innocents, or else". As you stepped backwards from the bed, with a knowing smirk covering your tinted lips, the air around grew thicker, before the black aura diffused and you were gone.
Loki was so hard, painfully hard. And his heart— heavier with determination. ___
Note: What might he do next? What great lengths may he go to?
