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During the bit where Thor is experiencing S.H.I.E.L.D’s hospitality and Loki pays a visit, Loki takes advantage of the fact that Thor is no more powerful than the average Midgardian. I’d love to see some powertripping Loki!

[Yes, good.

NONCON AHEAD, BE FOREWARNED.]

It is the tears in his eyes that does it.  Salt wet that makes star-blue shimmer like its namesake—tiny grains of diamond gathering in eyelashes.  A crystalline droplet slipping loose to decorate his cheek.

Loki has seen his brother weep before.  Very seldom, granted—it is very seldom that Asgard’s favored firstborn has cause to weep (not like the dark false secondborn, who often does, but learned long ago how to smile instead).  Still, for Thor it is permitted.  His tears have never made him weak.

But this.

This.

Loki glides forward, as if pulled but no, no, he is in control, for the first time in his long life he is in complete control, takes Thor’s mourning and broken and lost oh so lost face between his cool hands, brushes his lips against the clear drop trapped in the hopeless crease just below that blue eye.  He tastes salt, smells soil and sweat and lightning.

Thor’s breath catches.

This close Loki can feel his despair.  Contrition.  A depth of emotion he is certain that Thor has never known (never could have known, never had reason to know).  Regret.  Helplessness.  Longing.  The realms are no longer a perfect place, they are cold and cruel and unforgiving, and the truth is ugly uglier than the lie that Loki has told him and it has taken Thor long, so long to learn this lesson, a lesson Loki must have been born understanding, because Loki cannot remember innocence.  And there is something in watching Thor’s innocence crack, before his eyes, that Loki finds intoxicating.

"I am so…sorry," he murmurs against Thor’s quivering lips.

Hands come up to clutch his sleeves—and though Loki is used to that grip making his bones creak, it seems so sickly now, so weak, he barely notices it though the knuckles whiten in his peripheral vision.  Thor meets his gaze, so close, split open, unguarded, and oh it aches, it aches so sweetly.

"No," Thor says, his voice trembling.  "I am sorry."  He inhales, shaky, and oh, his eyes drop, shame and remorse and heartbreak, his eyes drop and Loki cannot breathe.  ”Thank you—for coming here.”

Thor is thanking him.  For his terrible news.  For his destruction of all hope Thor had.  For his lies.

Loki cannot breathe.

Something tears inside of him, floods him with a nauseating roil of fierce triumph and sadistic satisfaction and guilt horrible shattering guilt other things he does not care to name, and he crushes his mouth to Thor’s because that is all he can think of doing.  Taking.  This is what he wanted.  What he wanted.

He is hard with it.  With having the advantage.  With how easily Thor bends to him.  Such strength—he watched as Thor flung aside mortal soldiers like dolls, forgot for a moment that Thor himself has become mortal, but remembers now as that strength pulls and pushes and paws at him and cannot move him.  Cannot move him.

He is hard with how readily Thor’s mouth opens at his urging, at slim hand on squared jaw and thumb between teeth tugging down.  The taste of uncertainty and fear on his tongue is heady as the strongest mead.

now you know brother now you know what it is to be weak to be desperate to be ashamed to be dying to be me 

He fucks Thor’s mouth with his tongue, because he does not have the time to fuck him in any other way no matter how he might wish it he will visit Thor again yes he will come to him in the night in dreams and torment him with what he has lost what he will never have will make him cry out with longing despair and leave him lust-ridden and unsated but this will suffice for now, this will cool the burning in Loki’s breast, salve the wound that tore open at the sound of the truth and will not heal.

And Thor pushes vainly against him, as Loki holds him down by the jaw and closes his other hand pale and spiderlike around the bulge of Thor’s cock in his Midgardian clothes.  The noise that leaks from Thor’s throat, strained and frightened, draws a low moan from Loki’s own.  He wants no pleasure for himself—just this is pleasure enough, immovable as Thor struggles in his grasp, powerful—wonders just for a moment what could be if the Allfather truly were dead, if Loki truly were king.  The promises he could make, dangle before his brother’s eyes, to entice him into Loki’s thrall, this is what is best, brother, forgive me

The hand on Thor’s jaw slides down, to press against his chest, hold him to the chair, and now that Thor’s mouth is freed from the claiming of Loki’s tongue he gasps out, “Loki, no—”

But Loki grips the mound of his cock more tightly, rubs and squeezes and massages, feeling it harden through the denim, and he watches Thor’s face while keeping his own carefully blank (though he knows, he knows his eyes must be burning, because of the way Thor avoids them).  The helplessness in his expression, as he wraps his hands around Loki’s arm and tries to dislodge the pressing hand from his chest, is the most beautiful thing Loki has ever seen.

He softens his touch just a little, kneads until Thor is fully hard against his palm, the hot column of him trapped behind the unforgiving fabric.  Softens his touch more, strokes until Thor’s hips are twitching into his hand, a sweet contradiction to the struggles of his upper half.

"Please," Thor rasps, his eyes darkening and his lips slackening, "don’t—brother—"

Mine, Loki thinks, his own eyes ripped wide with powerlust, mine, you will be mine, I will make you forget her and you will want no other.

Thor has always been a slave to his own body.  It takes no time at all before the weak, restrained twitches of his hips intensify into full-fledged thrusts, all denials melting into groans of desire, before his head falls back and his mouth falls open as his resistance breaks before the pleasure Loki forces from him.

When Thor comes, Loki wonders for a moment why he does not cry out with it, before realizing that his other hand has wrapped itself around Thor’s throat.

Posted 2 years ago with 37 notes
Tagged with #wolfayal #hey look i wrote a thing #thorki #nsfw #tumblr prompt fic #noncon
  1. whaillord reblogged this from soltianxxx
  2. lovenlols reblogged this from soltianxxx and added:
    Hnnnnggg.
  3. green-blooded-boy reblogged this from soltianxxx
  4. soltianxxx reblogged this from tyrotheterrible and added:
    Oh my fucking god yes.
  5. savianparma reblogged this from tyrotheterrible
  6. billywick reblogged this from tyrotheterrible
  7. wolfayal reblogged this from tyrotheterrible and added:
    TL;DR The lovely tyrotheterrible wrote delicious porns for a prompt I gave her. BEST MONDAY EVER!
  8. wolfayal said: Heee! This is exactly what I hoped for and so much more! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You write such wonderful dom!Loki and non-con. Thank you again for this loveliness!
  9. wantstobelieve said: ye gods i can’t even
  10. homosexualfrustration said: Jjeeessus fucking christ, Tyro. Here I was planning to go to sleep and then—and then you get me all hot and bothered, GUUHHFFHNNG. Huffhuffhuff.
  11. tyrotheterrible posted this