“I-I don’t believe you,” the princeling pants, eyes wide with a horror that he cannot fathom – for he has never known such darkness. “I could never be such a m-monster…”

The elder of himself leans forward, thrusting hot inside with jerks that are rough and filled with self-destructive loathing. His breath is cold as he leers above the little Jotun shivering in his grasp, and he drowns the other in his shadow.

“Foolish – insecure-” he serves the cruelest of thrusts as the words spew from his cracked, lifeless lips. “You think yourself so pure. But it is your destiny to become me – inevitably, unavoidably, the darkness will find you because it is you who will call upon it.” And the broken Trickster whispers low into his ear, feeling the tremble of the young one’s thighs against his own. “And fighting it is a useless endeavor – for even if you tried, I have already tainted you.”

And a haze of smoke carries the dark not-so-stranger away, leaving Loki to bend in and cry against his own palms.


What even did I draw just now…I don’t know .__.

/slithers away