Edited by the one and only WrathKitty who also has a wonderful loki story :) You can find her under my favourite authors.
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Shh. You are mortal now, my delicate flower. Your body needs time to adjust.
Astraea's body goes rigid in Loki's arms at hearing those words. Confusion crosses her features, accompanied by a spine-chilling sense of foreboding.
The exhaustion she had felt moments ago vanishes into thin air.
"What did you say?" Her words are a whisper, but her voice is cold and radiates barely concealed fury.
The king, not wanting to converse on this matter in public, rises silently from his seat with a still-impaled Astraea in his arms and teleports them back to his room.
Withdrawing himself from her core he deposits Astraea onto the edge of his bed, before spinning on his heel and stalking towards the shelves where he kept small keepsakes that held sentimental value.
Apart from their breathing, the room is silent for minutes before Astraea speaks.
"You said I was mortal. What did you mean by that?"
Loki carelessly drops the object he was toying with back onto the shelf, where it lands with a loud clang that resonates through the room.
Slowly, he turns to face her, a mischievous smile playing on his lips – a smile she knew to expect, as the King always seemed to be in a perpetual state of amusement. No matter how bored he may be or how trivial the subject.
This subject however, Astraea does not view as trivial.
"Well, darling, you see, your divinity was such a fragile thing," he says smugly. "So, I took the liberty of freeing you from it."
"What the fuck does that mean?" Astraea snaps, anger rising at her captor's amused tone.
Loki chuckles as he steps closer to her. "Oh, don't play coy, little one. I know you remember what I told you in the forest."
Your divinity would cease to be after I've defiled you in every way imaginable.
Every muscle in Astraea's body freezes, the blood draining from her face as she pieces together what he had meant. "What did you do?" she shrieks, springing to her feet.
"Nothing you didn't agree to," he remarks, shrugging nonchalantly.
"You knew I didn't understand what you meant!" Astraea's voice is panicked, her eyes going wild with fright, "And yet you did it anyway!" Tears begin to spill down her face, "You tricked me!"
Loki feels a twinge of remorse at addressing the sensitive subject so heartlessly. Approaching her with caution, as though she were a wounded animal, he attempts to pull her trembling form into a soothing embrace. She backs away from him as soon as he reaches out to touch her.
"Don't touch me!" she hisses, eyes flashing with rage.
The pang of guilt he had felt fades, immediately replaced by anger.
"You forget your place, little goddess," he sneers, baring his teeth.
A loud knock comes from the door, interrupting them just as Astraea is about to make a retort.
Making his way over to the door, he snarls, "This conversation is over," before slamming it roughly as he exited.
Astraea's breathing hitches as her knees grow weak and she slumps to the cold floor. She stares listlessly at the ground as her vision blurs further with tears of despair.
How did it come to this?
As a little girl, not yet having reached godhood, Astraea had been taught many things. She had been taught how to act, what to expect, what role she would play, she had learnt of the intricate workings of being divine, and gained knowledge of blessings, curses, miracles and rituals.
But not once was she told that it was possible to cease being celestial.
Consequences for going against one's divinity? Yes. That she had been taught, and that was what she had assumed would happen for letting the wicked one – or anyone – claim her. A simple consequence for opposing her true nature.
Aphrodite being a perfect example – she had learnt that she was to be the Goddess of love, then proceeded to announce her hatred for romance and every living creature that believed in it, declaring that they were weak, foolish and lacking in intellect.
Days later Aphrodite embraced her divinity. — After claiming that she had experienced the strangest of things, a loveless world, devoid of all passion, devotion and friendship.
Apparently, Astraea was to be punished in a much harsher way: Becoming mortal in a land whose inhabitants were famous for slaughtering them for sport, for if there was anything the Jötnar hated more than foreigners, it was mortal foreigners.
Rising from the floor, she walks over to the window and saw another blizzard raging outside. The view of the freakishly-large mountains was now obscured by ice-white dust as snow was lifted from the ground and blown about by the brutal winds.
Astraea catches her reflection in the frosted glass, and sees that her eyes – that only yesterday were as gold as honey and shone like stars on a clear night – now seemed dull.
Loki had stolen something from her, something she hadn't had any intention to give.
Her eyes had been a symbol of divinity, all gods and goddesses had luminescent eyes of liquid gold, and now because of him, they would become a bland, lifeless amber. Like the eyes of most mortals.
Your divinity would cease to be after I've defiled you in every way imaginable.
His words had been a guarantee. Masterfully disguised by a trickster, coated in sugar and shielded by filthy promises.
What else would he steal from her?
He had taken her virginity, her immortality, her divinity. What was left?
She had felt safe with him, thought that maybe there was a chance he wasn't like his savage subjects, that he could be an ally.
She had been wrong to think such things.
He wasn't like them at all. He was worse. At least the Jötnar did not hide their dislike for her, they had made their disdain quite clear the moment she walked into that feast hall.
Loki, instead, chose to play games with her. He toyed with her body, toyed with her emotions, was kind one moment, and cruel the next.
He had made her feel safe at dinner and then he had whispered those horrible words in her ear, as if she were some mindless toy he could comfort, harm or fuck anywhere and anytime he pleased.
No, she would not let him take her again, no matter how tempting he was or how good he made her feel when he did.
And she would certainly not sleep in the same bed as him, either!
Marching over to Loki's stupidly large bed, Astraea grabs two pillows and carries them back to the window. A cold floor was far more welcoming than spending the night next to the manipulative, deceitful king. No matter how comfortable his bed was or how good he was with his cock.
Once she had finished arranging the pillows, Astraea pressed her cheek to the soft velvet, curling into herself and getting as comfortable as she could before closing her eyes and hoping sleep would come soon.
Frowning in frustration, Loki scrutinises the relic in his palm. It is a small thing, a black onyx statuette of a woman barely the length of his hand. She wore an exquisitely detailed crown, and was attired in a sleeveless stola, fastened on her right shoulder by a fibula.
It was a pretty trinket, but it had seen better days. The thing was obviously ancient, and bore scratches and chips in places, its detail dulling from being handled.
He couldn't understand why Astraea came for it. He had inspected it many times after her arrival and concluded it was nothing special. It held no magic, and the stone from which it was carved held no value.
Loki hated not knowing things. Which is why he had handed it off to Gelling for a second opinion, who now stood before him shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Gelling was the head scientist who had served many kings before Loki's reign. Loki had hoped that perhaps he might even have heard or read about the statue in his years of research and might be able to tell him something new.
The scientist's voice breaks through Loki's thoughts, "Your majesty, it seems to be nothing more than a peculiar statue of a lady." His unease was obvious - the king was known to have a short temper, especially upon receiving bad news, and the last thing Gelling wanted was to be at the receiving end of his rage.
"Nothing? Not even an Iota of power?" Loki presses, unwilling to accept that it was nothing more than what it seemed. "There's nothing abnormal about it?"
"Nothing I could detect, my king."
A loud exhale leaves him before Loki mutters, "Leave."
Gelling does just that, leaving the king alone with the relic in the vault.
Yet another dead end, he muses.
What irked him the most was that he had only stolen the relic for his own entertainment, no more than just a bit of mischief. But now, with Astraea's arrival and failed attempt at thievery, he simply could not believe it truly was worthless - especially when he recalled the day he acquired it.
He had been visiting Ninvore - a loathsome planet inhabited by the outcasts and criminals from throughout the universe. Repulsive as the place was, however, it hosted the largest auctions for antiquities, black market goods, knick-knacks, powerful artefacts and of course, as every despicable land - people.
Thus making it the number one spending ground for the immoral and the filthy rich, of which Loki was both.
The statue had been the most heavily guarded item there, but strangely it wasn't even for sale. It had sat on display in a glass case, surrounded by four bulky, heavily-armed alien men, whose skin was a deep purple and covered in thick, grotesque scales. To taunt and tempt auction-goers, Loki had assumed at the time.
And so he proceeded to steal it right out from under them, and had taken pride in the fact that the security was no match for him.
Looking back on that day now told him one thing:
That he needed to put it somewhere safer, lest Astraea or anyone else come looking. Again.
Loki, having dedicated hours to sealing away the relic, returned to his chambers well into the night. Anticipating that Astraea would be asleep, he entered quietly, not wanting to disturb her.
What he hadn't anticipated, however, was to find was an empty bed.
Glancing around the room, he spots her lying on the floor near the window. His anger rises, bubbling beneath his skin. She would disrespect his hospitality?
Her foolishness mattered not. He would place her in his bed, where she belonged, next to him, her little body keeping him warm and sated, and if she insisted upon neglecting his bed each night, he would simply move her after she fell asleep.
Two could play this game.
Stalking over to her sleeping form, he cannot help but pause to admire her. The pale Jotunheim moonlight spills into the room, casting her lithe frame in a silver glow, and – much to his chagrin – his annoyances vanishes, now replaced by a single thought: That Astraea was beautiful even in sleep.
Her wavy brown locks are messily strewn about, framing her face, and he finds himself envying the pillows for having the privilege of leaving them in such a state.
He wants to be the one to take sole responsibility for her state of disorder, to rule her completely as is his due as sovereign. He wants to tangle his hands in her hair, to bite her plump lips and mar them, because they are softer than they have any right to be, to bind her to his bed and adorn her skin with bruises both black and blue.
These desires are unwise, it would be best to forget them and yet, he does not wish to.
He would have her again, he decides, regardless of it being mere hours since he had enjoyed her last. And this time he would take her on the floor like a rabid beast, fucking her under the soft glow of the moon.
These filthy contemplations have made him hard, a situation he is eager to remedy.
Loki rapidly strips off his trousers and kneels beside Astraea. Moving slowly, he raises her dress and spreads her legs until he is able to situate himself between them. With her core on display for his greedy eyes to devour, he gently caresses her cunt, making a most pleasing discovery the moment he touches her: She's still slick from his earlier attentions.
Grabbing his engorged and eager cock, he brings it to her opening, lazily rubbing his leaking tip through her folds, coating himself in her slick before pushing inside, savouring each and every second until he finally bottoms out. Holding himself there, he places his hands above the pillow on either side of her head and then slowly withdraws his cock, and surges forward once more in one steady, hard thrust.
He withdraws and thrusts in again.
And again.
Despite the fact that she is sound asleep, Astraea's pussy instinctively reacts to his invasion, and Loki finds his cock being gripped with such force that sliding out of her is almost a challenge. Filling the room with a loud groan, he thrusts into her again, harder this time.
Astraea wakes to a burning sensation between her legs, and the sound of a man loudly taking his pleasure reaches her ears, immediately alerting her to what was going on.
Someone was fucking her!
In the grip of silent panic, she attempts to squirm away, hands pushing against the hard chest situated above her.
"Relax, little maiden, it's me," he growls, gripping both her wrists in one large hand and pinning them above her head.
Loki. The relief she feels is short-lived, however, her anger resurfaces a moment later "Get off me!" she yells, thrashing beneath him.
Her attempts are futile, Loki does not budge; instead, the hold he has on her wrist tightens.
"Yield to me, Kǫttr, I promise, despite your anger you will enjoy this," he grunts into her ear. "You were so tempting, wet and glistening in the moonlight, I simply could not resist."
Astraea's struggling is interrupted when he drives himself into her harder, her eyes sliding shut in ecstasy and a moan escaping from between her lips.
"Such a small pussy and yet you take me so well, accepting every inch I have to offer," Loki croons, pulling his cock out until only the tip remains then savagely hilting himself back inside her.
"Loki, plea-Oh!" Her objection is cut off by another forceful thrust that jolts her forward.
"What a lovely surprise," he chuckles, his breath tickling her ear, "What a lovely surprise to find the Goddess of Innocence is a greedy little whore."
"I'm not!" Astraea protests, equally horrified by his accusation and the knowledge that his words have brought her to the precipice.
"You are," he purrs, still pumping into her. "Regardless of your protests, you love this, being taken savagely, I can feel you fluttering and clenching around me like a cock-hungry slut," Loki hisses from between clenched teeth.
Before she can reply, the king suddenly stops and withdraws, leaving her empty, unsatisfied and mewling like a touch-starved kitten.
Abandoning his hold on her wrists he moves, settling into a kneeling position. "On all fours," he orders, "I want to mount you."
Determined to resist him and the pleasure his treacherous cock brings Astraea does not move. Loki lets out a low growl of warning in reply, his eyes, now resembling those of a venomous serpent bore into hers, sending chills down her spine.
Astraea quickly scrambles onto her hands and knees, glancing over her shoulder at him. The expression he wears remains deadly, but he is beautiful as ever, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the muscles that glisten with sweat under the silver light and the long, ribbed cock that stands tall and gleams with her juices.
Placing one hand between her shoulder blades, he roughly pushes her down forcing Astraea to drop onto her forearms, raising her ass up and level with his crotch…giving him perfect access to her weeping cunt.
He enters her then, sinking to the hilt with unbridled lust, she cries out at the intrusion, despite knowing it was coming. The change of angle allows him to reach deeper, the bulbous head of his cock hitting her cervix with every violent push.
Moving his hands to her hips, he grips them in a tight hold, keeping her steady as he brutally hammers into her. He fucks her without any regard for her well-being, his nails digging into the soft skin of her waist as his grunts, growls and moans ricocheted around the room.
She loves it, though she would never confess to doing so.
The view of her pussy being repeatedly stuffed by his cock sends Loki into a frenzy, driving him to ride her faster, harder – and awakens the desire to breed her.
To fill her with his seed over and over, until it takes root and she begins to grow round and heavy with his heir.
This was not the first time he had indulged his latent attraction to pregnant women. He had fucked expecting mothers before and thoroughly enjoyed himself. Their cunts were always swollen and tender, enhancing his enjoyment tenfold. None, however had been carrying his child.
Loki permitted himself to imagine fucking a pregnant Astraea, laying her on any and every flat surface available in his castle, taking her for his pleasure and his alone, regardless of whether he had just sired a child upon her, or if she was on the verge of giving birth. Of what it would be like to pump her full of his essence at every opportunity, pregnant or not and then watching as his cum dripped from her abused core, only for him to scoop it up and push it back in, guaranteeing every drop of his kingly seed was put to good use, whether to breed her or claim her, or both.
Gods, fucking her was divine now, as he envisioned such fantasies and what it would be like were she heavy with a child, on all fours before him in the moonlight. Her tiny cunt would be puffy and red, in a constant state of arousal, practically weeping for his cock – and he would oblige, every time.
Realizing he is getting carried away, he rips himself out of the unobtainable fantasy.
"I can feel your hungry pussy gripping me, begging to be filled with my seed," he groans, head falling back in pleasure. "Come for me, now little maiden."
With a scream of his name Astraea came, her body shivering in unrestrained bliss before him.
Aided by the clenching of her cunt and the lewd sounds coming from her, Loki comes, his hold on her hips tightens further, ensuring she remains in place to accept every drop of his frigid essence as he deposits it deep inside her hot core.
Fixing his eyes onto her stuffed entrance, he watches in delight as his cum oozes out from around his girth and drips to the floor.
Incoherent with pleasure, Astraea can do naught but whimper softly as Loki begins to withdraw, jolting in surprise as his cock languorously grazes her walls on its way out.
He was still hard.
He hisses as she squeezes him in retaliation, the now overly sensitive ridges on his shaft tingling from the stimulation.
Surging forward, he drives himself back to the hilt, fucking her with slow, deliberate thrusts, grunting as his markings rub against her.
His second climax washes over him in no time, his cock pulsing and spurting more cum into her already-overfilled pussy.
Snaking his hand between her legs, Loki roughly taps Astraea's clit, chuckling hoarsely as she yelps and squirms, attempting to dislodge his hand.
"Enough, wriggling," he growls. "This cunt belongs to me and you will come again."
She sobs and babbles incoherently, with no choice left, she submits to the torturous sensations of fingers and cock. Electric currents traverse her body, igniting every nerve, spreading like a deadly fire, determined to consume her.
Astraea finds, that she would gladly let it.
Completely spent she does not notice Loki has pulled out and wiped her clean until he lifts her into his arms and begins carrying her towards his bed.
"I can walk," Astraea mumbles, irritated at his treating her as if she were glass mere moments after brutally fucking her.
Loki ignores her and strips her of her sweat soaked dress before tucking her in.
"I will give you proper clothing come morning," he says, teleporting the pillows back to their rightful place and then crawling in beside her. "Now, sleep."
So much for not letting him fuck me, she thinks as she subconsciously shifts closer to Loki, snuggling into his side.
He stiffens, unused to such contact, but forces himself to relax he shuts his eyes, letting darkness envelop him.
A soft, satisfied sigh reaches his ears as sleep claims him.