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“Good morning, kærasta…”
You gasped as a deep, velvety voice greeted you, two cold, strong arms encircling your waist. But no matter how cold the touch, it immediately warmed your insides.
After he was stripped of his magic and sent to exile on Earth—Midgard—by his ‘father’—Loki usually spat that word—you stumbled across him one day and it completely changed both of your lives. He was broken before he met you, tempted to end his existence. But you knew from the second you saw him, that Loki was no ordinary man—which he wasn’t, obviously, he was a god—and found yourself dedicated in fixing him.
And you ended up falling in love.
Two years later, Loki was sparkling with life again, his mischievous nature fully restored and—despite his disdain for anything on Midgard that wasn’t you—actually came to enjoy his new life there.
Being in a relationship with Loki was a bit like living with a black cat. Playful, always on the lookout for trouble, lurking around the corner to make you jump and—if you found the right spots—purring in your lap as you stroke it.
Or it was you who sat in his lap purring...
He, too, thought that you had the characteristics of a fierce kitten—as he so charmingly put it—when you mewled in his lap or scratched his back with your claws.
Nonetheless, you would probably never get used to his sneaking up on you from behind, just like he did this morning.
As your fright subsided, a grin played on your lips when you felt his morning wood poke you and the feeling of his clothed cock against your ass had your pussy throbbing on cue.
“Good morning, kisa.” You teased, the Icelandic nickname that Loki once taught you rolling off your tongue with ease. Again, he wasn’t fond of the comparison with a pussy, but right now he had it coming.
Standing in your pajamas—which consisted of Loki’s shirt and your now damp panties—you were preparing breakfast. This morning, you had gotten up early to surprise him with breakfast in bed, though you should have guessed that it wouldn’t take long for the cat to notice the absence of your warm body in the bed.
“Care to explain what you’re doing here on a Sunday at eight in the morning?” Loki inquired reproachfully, dramatically emphasizing the time. Loki wasn’t a morning person—especially when he didn’t get to love you right after waking up.
“I’m making you breakfast,” you answered with a proud grin on your face, flipping another pancake as it sizzled in the butter, the air sweet with its sugar. “I wanted to bring it to bed afterwards and wake you then…”
“My sweet,” Loki crooned into your ear, his voice dripping with both lust and mischief. “If you wanted to treat me with breakfast in bed you could have just spread your legs and let me feast on your delectable cunt.”
There was the bluntness that you loved so much. Before Loki, your sex life was rather… dull. He was the first to ever go down on you and drink you like the finest wine, the first to tie you to your bed to make you realize that you actually enjoyed bondage and also the first you willingly kneeled for as you begged for his cock. But above all those things stood that smooth tongue that he didn’t just use to eat you out into oblivion but also to get you worked up.
“I know,” you chuckled, cheeks hot with embarrassment—no matter how much you liked how bold he was, you would never stop blushing about it—as you tried to focus on the task at hand, which was flipping the pancake. “I just wanted to try something new…”
“Being a good little housewife, is it?” Loki teased, his lips brushing over your neck as he held you tight from behind. His arms encircled your waist and he slipped a hand under your shirt—his shirt—to slowly wander higher until he brushed against the underside of your bare breast, making your nipple hard immediately. “You know very well that you don’t need to impress me into wanting you, my love.”
It was true. Loki never let you forget just how much he loved you. But, then again, so did you—hence the pancakes.
“I’m not trying to impress you and I'm not being a housewife,” you insisted with a little chuckle, filling the pan with another scoop full of batter. “I’m just making breakfast for me and my boyfriend.”
“Ah, but it does impress me,” he answered against your nape, his tone still teasing as his cold hand found your nipple and he rubbed it between the length of his index and middle finger. You let out a breathy moan, knees suddenly weak while you forced yourself to focus on the pancakes so none would burn. “Because look at you, multitasking. Making breakfast as you tremble for me like a wanton slut…”
That had you tremble, indeed. Your head fell back against his collarbone, eyes still locked with the pan as best as you could. His fingers gently squeezed your nipple before cupping that breast and groping it, making you cry out in pleasure.
“Mh, my little slut is so sensitive,” he crooned into your ear, his free hand slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to find you exactly as he hoped—hot and wet. His long, cold middle finger slipped between your slick folds and he hummed as your wetness made squelching sounds just from that touch. “And soaked…” He pulled his hand from your cunt but before you could complain, he shoved the soaking finger between your lips, forcing you to taste yourself on it. “She’s sweet as well, hm?... Hey, all starting with ‘s’… my sweet, soaked, sensitive slut…” He chuckled about his own remark, the sound rumbling in his chest and making you even wetter than you were already. His laugh was so fucking sexy. Ah, another word with ‘s’…
“There’s something starting with ‘s’ I want to do to you,” he whispered into your ear, riddling you as if you were in the right mind for puzzles right now. “And another, also starting with ‘s’ I want you to do. So many things starting with ‘s’, sweetling, I think it might be my new favorite letter…”
You would have rolled your eyes in exasperation if they hadn't been busy doing it out of pleasure. You were only paying so much attention to his words but you understood the answer to his riddle. Sex and suck. Not that you weren’t interested, but there was still food sizzling on stove that you didn’t feel like burning—‘s’ is everywhere.
“Loki,” you whined, torn between giving in to the sweet temptation and cooking breakfast. “The pancakes…”
“I know, sweet, I know,” he mused, feigning pity. He didn’t actually care about your dilemma. “I’ll let you finish…”
And you both knew that he didn’t mean the pancakes.
His hand disappeared behind your soaked panties again while he ground his hard cock against your ass. Your free hand reached for the counter, knuckles white. The spatula also suffered from your tight grip as you flipped the last but one pancake.
“Is my little slut struggling to focus?” Loki teased, whispering with mock pity as his middle finger slipped between your folds again, finding you even wetter than before. “None of this would have happened if you had just stayed in bed and spread your legs for me. But no, you had to be a bad girl and leave me hard and desperate.” He ground his hips against your ass for emphasis. “Can you feel me, slut?”
“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with practiced submission—you knew to obey Loki and answer his questions when he was pleasing you. “Yes, I can feel you, Loki… I-I’m sorry I left you alone…”
“Don’t be, my sweet, I rather enjoy this.” You didn’t need to turn around to confirm the smirk on his face—you could hear it, feel it even, as he pressed his lips against your nape. He suckled the skin there, leaving a love bite amongst all the others from the night prior. “Now, I want you to focus on your precious pancakes as I make you come apart on my fingers like the little slut you are. Can you do that for me, my heart?”
How he managed to switch between degradation and endearment had always been a riddle of its own. Maybe that’s what confused you into your multitude of kinks…
“Fuck,” you cursed as his fingers squeezed your other nipple. “Yes! Yes, Loki…”
As if you had another choice—well, you always did but pretending you hadn’t was part of the thrill—you agreed to Loki’s game.
“Good girl,” he praised, his finger slipped inside with ease due to your wetness. “You’re making me proud.”
Soon enough, you felt yourself clenching around Loki’s fingers—he had shoved three of them inside by now—indicating your impending orgasm. And with a chuckle on his behalf you knew that he felt it, too.
“My, my, so close already?” Loki taunted, crooking his fingers at an angle that made you scream. “You’re not even done cooking yet…”
Looking at the stove, you realized that after the last pancake, you had forgotten to fill the pan with the batter for the last one. In your defense, you were caught up on three other things inside of you.
With shaking hands, you poured the last bit of batter into the pan. “I… n-need to—“
“Not until you finished that pancake.” His tone left no room for argument and you felt your stomach drop.
“Loki!” You protested, mentally cursing yourself that you had forgotten to refill the pan, losing precious time.
“Uh-uh, sweetheart, no begging. You get to finish when the pancake does.” And somehow he made this ridiculous demand sound reasonable. Or at least your pleasure-fogged mind thought so. You had no other choice than to obey after all…
Clamping down on Loki’s fingers, you hoped that he would slow down his movements to remove some of the friction that threatened to push you over the edge but it was no use. Loki was relentless with his strokes, hitting all the right spots with precision. Which was awesome; unless he forbade you to cum.
That fucking pancake needed forever, at least it felt like it, and once you could finally flip it in the pan—somehow managing to make it look just as flawless as the others, despite the circumstances—you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
Almost, almost, almost…
“Soak my fingers, sweet girl.”
And on command, you did. Your abs contracted as the orgasm made your pussy clench around his fingers as if trying to hold onto him. Your now free hand—the spatula thrown somewhere onto the counter, you didn’t care at that point—flying to reach for the back of Loki’s head, tugging at his curls. Both out of pleasure and gratitude for your orgasm but also as punishment for making you wait so long. Loki simply smiled against your neck, nibbling and licking your skin as he rode you through your intense high, enjoying how you screamed his name—which you did naturally.
“Yes, darling… such a good little slut,” Loki crooned proudly, his fingers still working inside you until he was sure that he squeezed every bit of pleasure from you. “Fuck, you would’ve leaked onto the kitchen floor if I had torn off your panties like I initially planned…”
You felt it was well—heard it, in fact—that you soaked him good. And your panties as well.
“Which I didn’t do,” he continued, whispering into your ear as his thrusts slowed down until he stilled and kept them buried inside your gushing cunt. “Because they’re my favorite. They make your ass look so fucking edible… and they’re grey, which means I can see every little drop of your sweet nectar on them whenever your cunt is soaking for me…”
Fuck, that almost got you going again…
Loki pulled his soaked fingers from your pussy, lifting it in front of your face to make sure that you saw it as well, and played with your cum between his thumb and the tips of his fingers. You swallowed at the sight, taught not to be disgusted by Loki’s fondness of your juices—he made sure to feed them to you enough so you’d like them as well.
“Let’s see…” He mused, rubbing the liquid delicately between his fingers. “You're sweet, sensitive… soft… seductive… submissive… sometimes a soaked little slut—“
“Okay! I get it,” you chuckled, interrupting his ridiculous listing. “You like the letter ‘s’.”
“Sassy.” He added piqued, feigning to be offended as he licked his finger clean one by one, savoring the taste with soft hums into your ear.
You turned off the stove after putting the last pancake onto the plate, proud by the perfect tower you build—despite all distraction.
“You did good for me, kærasta.”
He put one hand onto your neck to turn you around to face him, gently and lovingly, because you willingly complied. The smile on his face made you grin as well as he pulled you into a soft good morning kiss—like he didn’t already finger fuck you into oblivion. But that’s what you loved about Loki. He knew to distinguish between his dominant personality in bed—or anywhere he got you horny—and the sweet and tender lover that you fell for in the first place.
“Thank you for making breakfast, my love.” He murmured against your lips, his still damp fingers reaching for your hip under the shirt.
“You’re welcome, kisa.” You answered affectionately, pressing one last peck against his lips before pulling back.
“I love you.” He didn’t let go of your hips, instead sliding down to your lower back, right above the slit of your ass.
“I love you more.”
“Hearsay.”
You chuckled and he gave you a playful but gentle swat on your ass before allowing you to turn back to the kitchen counter.
Loki—much the domesticated kitty—washed his hands and helped you with setting the breakfast table.
You arched a brow as he set it only for one person, putting the plate and cutlery on your side of the table. Narrowing your gaze in confusion, you put the pancakes in the center of the table.
“Just one plate…?” You carefully asked him, suspecting that there was something else behind his actions, other than the incapability of counting.
“You know I need a proper appetizer, darling. And I figured it would be uncomfortable for you to sit on a plate.” He shrugged and caught your confused gaze, smirking mischievously. “Don’t just stand there and look cute…”
“Strip, sit and spread.”
The fact that all those orders started with the letter ‘s’ had you both grinning wordlessly as you followed them.