Pairing: Thor Odinson x F!Reader
Wordcount: 2.63K
Warnings: mentions of smut. implied Bisexual!Thor. Wounds. Blood. probs improper use of Norse language. doped up!reader. major hurt/comfort. references to hair.
Summary: It was probably a comical sight: Thor stomping through the circling, writhing mass of battle with you clutching at him like one of those gray, furry creatures he’d seen on Midgard.
A/N: this could definitely be the same reader from be where you are, but you don't need to read it at all
It is another battle on another backwater planet. It’s not Thor’s fight, but he offers his aid regardless. He owes the Guardians and he likes to keep an eye on you.
Plus, you’d never let him live it down.
We’re saving people here! They’re being oppressed - these trolls are encroaching on their village!
We can’t save everyone, Ást Mín.
So you’re going to lie here and meditate?
Is that...wrong?
No...but I’d greatly appreciate it if you did fight...just a little...a smidge of fighting...
Why are you getting on the floor? Wait - that’s underhanded. Oh - oh -
Of course, you’d crawled on your hands and knees and taken him into your mouth and then how was he going to argue after that? You were on a mission to play at guardians of the galaxy. You were seemingly trying to rectify all the wrongs in the universe and he followed like your heavy, protective shadow.
He scans the battlefield, lips quirking when he finally spots you beheading something green with tentacles. The sight makes his chest expand - causes heat to siphon down to his cock. Gods - he should be keeping a clear head rather than planning every devastatingly lewd act he’s going to thrust upon you in his bed later.
The air swells with blood and the stench of ash. It’s a scent he has learned - one that he has become accustomed to since he was a young man and Odin had sent him on his first campaign.
He’d had his heart in it then. He’d had his head in it, as well. Arrogant and boastful and unable to have any self-awareness. He’d fought and fucked his way through the realms and now all of this felt empty.
An enormous troll crashes through the crowd, nearly barreling into him. Its yellowed eyes snag on Thor, its broken teeth dripping spit as it leers. It recognizes him, which shouldn’t be a surprise. He is still relatively famous, though now he is considered the failed king of Asgard.
Thor sighs, marching forward as he readjusts his grip on Stormbreaker. He drops down before springing upward, cape rippling behind him as he splits the troll’s skull with the blade. There’s a crunch. The troll staggers, the roar caught in its throat melts into a gurgle before finally collapsing in a heap of dust.
Easy.
This is all terribly easy and he’d rather just get back to that tiny, metal room in the ship. He’d rather go over to you right now, pick you up and carry you to his bed where he’d take out the rest of his adrenaline. They always did that after battle. They’d done it for centuries.
Where are you anyway?
He searches the field again. There’s Drax tearing a purple beast to pieces. There’s Quill shooting a fungus-coated giant insect. There’s Nebula with her expression twisted into something pissed off, but that’s nothing new.
He finally sees a flash of your hair. You’re fighting smoothly - beautifully. Loki had always said that you were the better fighter out of the three of them. More elegant. There was minimal movement as you darted and repelled hit after hit until you’d see a vulnerable opening and take it.
He leans against a rock, arms folded as he watches you.
“Thor!”
Quill appears next to him, his mask disappearing to reveal his eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Think you could stop drooling like an idiot and help?”
Thor keeps his gaze locked on you. “The battle is won,” he declares, he gestures to the battlefield with an outstretched palm. “It’s over.”
It’s true. He has fought in hundreds of different wars and he knows when one side has managed to beat the other to the point where there is a slim chance of recovery. It’s usually the side he’s on.
Except for Wakanda, but he wouldn’t think about that.
“It’s won,” he repeats for good measure, though a slight strain in his voice makes it sound more feeble than he intended.
Quill opens his mouth to protest before Thor freezes. Distracted by your opponent, you hadn’t realized that another sneaky troll was creeping up behind you. Thor yells and you turn, but it’s too late. The troll brings its club down on your head. It’s a blow that would have killed anyone who wasn’t enhanced and, while you might not be dead, it looks awful. You stumble forward, nearly falling flat on your face. Your hands tremble as you reach for your skull. There’s a slick of crimson beginning to drip down your temple. Thor inhales sharply. The troll continues to advance on you.
“Jesus Christ,” Quill gasps and it snaps Thor awake.
He takes a halting step forward - a second - a third and then he’s running - crashing through the mass of warriors - shoving people aside until he reaches you. The ground rumbles. The air begins to circulate with the ozone-bite of a storm. The clouds cluster and blacken. He’s burning blue - his body tingling - his muscles flexing beneath the onslaught of his own rage and grief and terror. He channels it all into his magic - his power that is spitting out of him and circling into a cyclone of energy around his racing form - a barrier of sorts that knocks back anyone who gets in his way.
With a spark of lightning, he turns the two opponents circling your hunched form to dust. He’s radiating with it - nearly shaking as he drops to his knees to gently turn you on your back so he can see how bad it is.
It’s bad.
There’s blood in your hair - sheeting down the front of your face. Your eyes are unfocused and he tugs you into his lap, his broad palm nearly dwarfing your cheek as he holds it.
He roars for Rocket - for anyone - because he isn’t sure what to do. He’s fought a thousand wars and he is seemingly struck dumb by the sight of you so horribly injured. You blink through the blood - your fingers quivering as you try and wipe it off.
“Thor-r?” you slur.
“Shh,” he soothes, he pushes your hair back - his thumb moving in slow circles along your jaw. “You’re alright. You’re fine.”
***
“She’s very badly concussed. Fractured skull. If we didn’t have that new Xandar equipment, I’m not sure how we would have fixed the break.” Thor grimaces as he stares down at you lying flat on the exam table. Rocket’s paws gently smooth the newly sealed flesh along your scalp, beneath your hair. “I thought you guys were immortal.”
Thor narrows his eyes, his tone cold. “She was bludgeoned in the head by a troll twice my size.”
Rocket puts his hands up defensively. “Fine - fine. I’ll give her some pain killers, but make sure she doesn’t mix anything with it.
He snorts in response and Rocket glares. “She can drink you under the table, Thor and she always does after battle. The pills by themselves will make her completely loopy as is.”
Thor crosses his arms over his chest and begrudgingly nods.
“And don’t let her sleep for a couple of hours,” Rocket continues. “Since the two of you seem to barely sleep as it is, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Despite himself, Thor’s lips curl into a smug smile at Rocket’s implication. However it disappears completely when he glances down at you. You look small - your features almost sunken. His mind is anxious - his heart still pounding recklessly in his chest. He’s lost too many people already. Losing you would be unthinkable. He wouldn't survive it.
It had been Nebula who had helped him on the field. She’d taken one look at your head, yanked a small gun out of her pocket, and shot the wound up with a yellow, medicinal-smelling foam.
“It’ll stop the bleeding,” she explained in that indifferent, hoarse voice. “Take her to the ship.”
It had stopped the bleeding, but it had also made you incredibly out of it - almost drunk. “Thor,” you crooned as you tried to climb up his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your face into his throat. He’d carried you like that. His hands under your ass as you kept your legs tangled around his waist. Your mouth soft and wet on the skin beneath his jaw as if he was carrying an infant.
“You’re fine,” he murmured as he stroked the back of your head.
“I can’t feel my face,” you replied, tugging on his earlobe.
It was probably a comical sight: Thor stomping through the circling, writhing mass of battle with you clutching at him like one of those gray, furry creatures he’d seen on Midgard. Foam and blood all over the both of them.
“We look scary,” you remarked.
“We do.”
“Did we win?”
“I think so, little queen.”
“Am I dying?”
“Please don’t say that.”
“You can have my sword if I do.”
Thor growled your name in warning. His grip on you tightened. “You won’t die and even if you did, I’d come after you and bring you back.”
***
Rocket hadn’t been joking about the painkillers. You’re off your head. He hasn’t seen you like this since a Winter Solstice party decades ago.
He’s tried to keep you in bed, but you’re writhing around - wiggling against him as you ask him absurd questions about their past.
“Do you love me?”
“Of course.”
“Did you love that barmaid you slept with after that battle on Vanaheim?”
“What? No! We weren’t even together then.”
“Yes, but I remember. I remember everything, Odinson. You were a total slut.”
“And you weren’t? I seem to recall that warrior with the wings you paraded in front of me.”
“Ugh - you scared him off.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I might have glared a few times, but that was it...and why do you sound disappointed that he's gone hmm?"
“What about that princess with the pink hair?”
“She wasn’t you. No one was you.”
“Aw - that’s sweet.”
The conversation had then taken a swift left turn to revolve around sex acts.
“Would you have a threesome with Nebula?”
“She scares me, but alright.”
“Val?”
“She’s not here, but obviously seeing as we already have."
“What about Quill?”
“I don’t want him inside you.”
You laugh - your hand flying to your mouth as you gawk at him. “What about inside you?”
Thor rolls his eyes. “He couldn’t handle me.”
You giggle again and it’s very endearing - especially when you crawl up his body and nuzzle your face into his beard, his cheek. He cradles the nape of your neck, careful about touching the raw, healing flesh along your scalp.
“You haven’t been sweet like this in a long time,” He lifts his brows as he stares down at you. He really can’t remember. You’ve been stressed out - spread thin. The loss of Asgard and Loki and even Thor for a while had done a number on you. It still seemed as if you didn’t quite believe that Thor had come back to himself - had found a relative sense of peace.
You lift your hand and trace your fingertip down the line of his nose before you tap him between the eyebrows. “I’m capable of it, Odinson. Just - just haven’t been fucked up in a while. Too much to do.”
He cradles you against his chest, his arm bound around your back as he drags you closer. He can feel the slow tread of your heart, your warm, inexorable breathing on his bicep. “We could stop for a while,” he suggests. “Go somewhere quiet. Stop fighting for a bit.”
You frown. “Fighting is what I know. It’s what I’m good at.”
“You’re good at quite a lot of things, my love.” He teases with a suggestive leer. You groan and slap him hard across the chest making him wince.
“Just think about it,” he murmurs before he drops his head to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “We could explore - travel - lie on one of those blue-sand beaches and fuck all day.”
You nod lazily and he squints down at you. Your lashes flutter, your eyes beginning to shut as your breathing deepens. He lightly shakes you. “You can’t fall asleep for another three hours. Rocket’s orders.”
“Torture.”
“Always so dramatic.”
“No,” you protest. “That’s Loki.”
He sighs. He’s dead, my love. He’s dead for real this time. He’s been dead for years. Sometimes he wishes you’d stop referring to him as if he’s still alive. Sometimes he wishes you would never stop bringing him up.
Thor knows that his brother has left a hole between them. It had always been you and Thor and Loki. The tangled nest of the three of them. The secrets shared. The betrayals and the genuine emotion that had made Loki’s misdeeds all the more horrific and painful. Every act had only shoved you harder into Thor’s arms, strengthening their connection and leaving his brother out to dry.
They became lovers and Loki crashed himself against it.
He strokes your skin and you curl your fingers into his soft linen tunic. “Take this off,” you demand, tugging it sharply.
“I don’t think that activity would be smart,” he pointed out. “I can ask Rocket, but I’m almost certain that’ll he say -”
“No,” you huff - tugging it harder. “I want to just feel you.”
His lips quirk at the firmness of your voice. Even injured, you’re demanding. His Little Queen. They’d never officially married and there was no kingdom left for him, but still - you were his haughty, regal woman.
“I suppose,” he grins - indulgent.
He sits up, stretching his arms behind him to lift his shirt over his head. He tosses it to the floor and when he lies back down, you’re already clambering on top of him. You seal yourself to his front, resting your cheek at the center of his chest, your legs wedged between his thighs. Every one of his deep breaths causes your head to rise and fall and he draws his finger across the side of your face before he palms it - holding you to him like a child. You love this position. You always did it when you wanted comfort from him. They'd even done it before they'd ever made love, which spoke volumes for his self-control - having a gorgeous woman lie on him for hours and not do a thing.
Let me sleep on you, Odinson. Your chest is like a pillow and the ground is too hard.
Alright - come here then.
He’d embrace you like this when you’d been sick or sad or just tired though they hadn’t done it in ages. Thor feels a burst of guilt remembering the five years between the snap and ultimately defeating Thanos. Thor had been a mess. He’d offered nothing to you - lost in his own grief and terrified that he’d lose you, as well.
Something burns behind his nose and he scratches it. His throat thickens. His tongue heavy. “Don’t,” you mumble against his bare skin - your breath tickling his nipple. He jerks, his hips shifting under your weight. He’s going to get hard. It’s inevitable with you glued to his body like this.
“You’re right,” he says instead. You raise yourself up a little so that you can meet his gaze. He inhales sharply, your eyes are so bright - too bright and Thor worries that you’ve gotten a fever. He runs the back of his hand across your cheek and it’s hot, but it could just be from lying together in this tiny room. He tries to relax his heart that has begun to flutter, tries to tamp down that stinging burst of anxiety inside him. You’re fine. You’re completely fine. You smile - dazed - and lower your head back down.
“I’m gonna sleep here forever,” you drawl before curling inward to press a kiss to his abdomen - his ribs.
“Three hours,” he reminds you, his fingers nestled gently in your hair. There’s still blood in the tangle of it and that herbal-smelling foam. He’ll put you in the shower tomorrow, maybe bribe Quill to stop at the next planet where he can give you a proper bath and fuck you into an actual mattress. He needs to offer retribution - make up for the years he’d left you in the dark - in the cold.
Don’t get morose, Odinson. He hears this without you saying it. You read him too well.
“Three hours, three hours,” you echo as you snuggle deeper into his chest. ”I get it.”
Summary: You and Thor have been a thing for a while now, but nobody knew. You catch him talking about you to one of the Avengers.
Warnings: biig soft FLUFF!!
Author Note: Inspired by the song Maroon from Taylor‘s new Album Midnights.
Word Count: 608
——————
„Come on Thor we‘re late already“ you say annoyed while standing at the door. Tony threw another Party tonight, it was the first one since you and Thor started dating 2 Months ago. It wasn‘t even planned - how could you even Plan dating the GOD of Thunder? You always thought he didn’t even know you existed. You were one of Stark‘s very close assistants and quickly became friends with all of the Avengers. It was like you were their group teddy bear. Everyone loved you, but you always had a crush on that otherworldly Man. Thor seemed like a golden retriever, he was fascinated by anything from Earth and wanted to know everything. You guys talked a lot but it was more like you were his personal Google. It stayed this way until that one Day, the Avengers talked about their next mission and Tony ordered some Wine you should get. As you returned with the Wine glasses you bumped into Thor in the hallways, all the wine spilled on your shirt leaving a big burgundy stain. The rest was history..
Thor came down the Stairs, wearing one of his „Earth Clothes“ suits and looking godly. His blue eyes were sparkling and piercing right through your heart. You couldnt help but smile at him, he‘s just the cutest. „I‘m coming, i‘m right he- Wow! Y/N you look absolutely gorgeous.“ he was stunned by your appearance. You wore a beautiful, tight dress that showed all of your curves he loved so much. He wraps his strong arms around you and gave you a kiss. „I dont know how I should leave my hands off of you tonight..“ he whispers with a tone of lust in his voice. You laugh and escaped from his grip. „We can‘t tell them. Not yet. You know I can‘t lose my job and if Tony finds out that we‘re dating he‘s gonna..“ you explained to him every time but his Puppy eyes made it even harder. He wants to tell the whole world and all the galaxies that you‘re HIS. „He‘s gonna let you go, I know i know. I dont understand you humans. Why not Celebrate LOVE??“ he ends your sentence and follows you through the door. He swings his Hammer, your new favorite way if traveling, and you‘re off to the new Stark Tower. As you arrived, you gave each other one more kiss after making clear who‘s gonna go in first. „You might wanna cover that up.“, he then said pointing to your collarbone and went inside. You got your pocket mirror out of your purse and saw a little hickey, you laughed and followed Thor a few minutes after.
Thor was already talking to Steve and Bruce as you arrive. You joined Nat at the bar and got a drink. „Who you got that from?“ Nat instantly pointed out your hickey and smirked at you. „That‘s my secret“ you answered and laughed. You just hear Thor talking to the guys behind you, his deep voice overtones everything else. „…I met her in New York. She‘s the most beautiful human I‘ve ever laid my eyes on. Even more beautiful than any Asgardian. She was honored to be in my presence of course, but I was just as pleased. It was magical, we drank wine, slow danced through the Night..“ you smiled at his words. „You really got softer. Didnt know you‘re such a romantic!“ Tony suddenly said. Almost everyone gathered around and listened to his Love story. „That‘s what happens when you‘re in Love“ Thor replied with a smile and took a sip of Wine while looking at you.
Thor. So much Thor. Someone who loves you without discretion, just openly pining for you even though yo're already together
Title: You're Lurking
Pairing: Thor x Female Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Minors DNI, Fingering, Thor beinga menace
Word Count: 2k
A/N: Ok so this started as something shorter in response to my post.. but it kinda got outta hand... WHERE MY THOR GIRLS AT @crazyunsexycool.... @tarithenurse thankyou for this.. this was fun I do like the idea of my black cat 'NO TOUCHIES' clashing with Thor's need for physical affection.. also supposed to be working but *sneaky*
You had been trying to finish the same task for the better part of twenty minutes.
Trying being the important word.
You would have been done, but Thor had been behind you for at least ten of them, and once Thor decided to hover, there was very little hope of accomplishing anything at all.
At first, it had only been his presence; large and war, though impossible to ignore. Slowly filling the room with the sort of quiet weight that made you aware of every inch of space around you. He had said nothing. Just stood there behind your stool, close enough that you could feel the heat of him at your back, the faint shift of air every time he breathed.
Lurking.
If you’d asked him, of course, he would disagreed
He was admiring.
You dipped your pen again, jaw tightening as you tried to ignore him.
“You are doing that on purpose.” You finally broke the silence.
Thor made a low, thoughtful sound. “Doing what?”
You kept your eyes on the page. “Standing there. Like some enormous, golden threat.”
That earned you a quiet laugh, warm with amusement. “A threat? To whom?”
“To my concentration.”
He hummed again, entirely too pleased with himself. “Ah.”
You managed three more words before his shadow shifted over you. Not much. Just enough that the back of your arm brushed his thigh when you moved.
Your grip tightened on the pen.
“Thor.”
“Yes?”
“Go away.”
“Nay.”
The answer came easily, without even a hint of shame. You finally turned your head enough to glare at him over your shoulder, only to find him already looking at you; blue eyes bright, mouth tipped into the kind of smile that always meant he was enjoying himself far too much.
He looked beautiful when he was being difficult. Which was, unfortunately, often.
“You are unbearable,” you informed him.
“And yet,” he said, leaning one broad shoulder against the edge of the desk, “you keep me.”
You rolled your eyes and turned back to your work, though you could feel the heat rising in your face at the simple, smug truth of it. He did not move away. If anything, he came closer still, until the heavy line of his body was nearly at your back again, all patience worn thin beneath the surface.
That was the thing about Thor. People who did not know him well mistook him for straightforward in the simplest sense. Easy. Blunt. All open affection and broad smiles and plainspoken wanting.
And he was those things.
But Thor, when he wanted, was relentless.
Not sly. Not subtle.
Just certain.
You tried to finish the line in front of you. Tried very hard, in fact. But then his hand came down on the desk beside yours, huge and rough and veined, his rings catching the light, and something inside you skipped.
“Come here,” he said.
You didn’t look at him. “No.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then his other hand settled at your waist.
Not asking.
Just warm and firm and heavy enough that your breath caught.
“Thor.”
“You have been doing this forever,” he murmured.
“I have not.”
“You have.” He lent down. His mouth brushed your temple, not quite a kiss, more the promise of one. “And you have ignored me the entire time.”
“That was the hope.”
He made a soft, offended sound, humphing against your hair, and before you could brace, he drew you back in the stool until your spine met the solid wall of his chest. The pen slipped from your fingers and rolled across the desk, forgotten instantly.
“Thor—”
“Enough.”
The word was low, not sharp, but it still settled through you like a command. His nose traced the line of your cheek, then your jaw, and the scratch of his beard followed a second later; rough enough to make your skin prickle, soft enough to make you shiver.
Your fingers tightened uselessly on the edge of the desk.
“I was busy,” you muttered, though it already sounded half-hearted, your voice thinner than you meant it to.
Thor’s hand spread over your stomach, splaying wide as if to measure you. To claim the space. The other slid higher, slow and deliberate, up the center of your body until he could curve it around your ribs.
“You are busy often,” he murmured against your skin.
“Yes, because some of us do things.”
A quiet laugh rumbled through him, the sound vibrating straight into your back. “And some of us,” he said, nosing at the sensitive place below your ear, “have needs.”
You sucked in a breath as his mouth finally closed there, hot and open and unhurried. The scrape of his beard along your neck made your shoulders tense before they loosened just as fast, your head threatening to tip back of its own accord.
No.
You tried to hold onto your annoyance.
It would have been easier if he were teasing in a cleaner way, or if he were trying to provoke you. But Thor’s wanting was never cruel. Never calculated. He touched you like a man who adored you, who saw no reason to hide it, who thought your body was something to be praised with his hands and mouth whenever he pleased.
Which made resisting him deeply unfair.
“Stop it,” Even you heard the weakness in your own voice.
His mouth curved against your throat. “That was unconvincing.”
“I mean it.”
The hand at your waist tightened just enough to pull you fully against him. There was no missing the heavy line of his body behind you now, the hard evidence of exactly what had prompted this bout of admiration. He was half hard at least, maybe more, and getting worse by the second if the pleased, rough breath he let out was anything to go by.
Heat pooled low in your belly before you could stop it.
You hated that he noticed everything.
“You melt quickly,” Thor murmured.
You turned your face away. “I do not.”
Another kiss. Slower this time. Then a drag of teeth that made your breath catch outright.
“You do.”
His fingers flexed over your stomach, then drifted lower by mere inches, close enough to be suggestive without quite crossing the line. That was another cruel thing about him, he did not always rush. Sometimes Thor was greedy in the slowest possible way, touching you just enough that your body began to lean into it before you even realized you had given in.
“Thor,” you warned softly.
He answered by turning your stool
It happened with absurd ease. Suddenly you were facing him, your knees falling apart around his thighs as he stepped between them. The room seemed smaller now, narrowed down to his chest, his hands, the bright hunger in his eyes.
There was a flush high on his cheeks. You loved that, loved that Thor, for all his confidence, still looked almost boyishly undone when he wanted you badly.
“You stare,” you murmured.
“Aye.” His hands settled on your thighs, broad and hot. “I enjoy it.”
“You were looming.”
“I was admiring.”
“You were absolutely lurking.”
That grin again. Wicked, pleased, unrepentant.
“And now?”
Your breath went shallow as his thumbs dragged over the insides of your thighs, pushing your robe, your skirt, your whatever-you’d-been-foolish-enough-to-wear-around-him.. pushed higher by degrees.
“Now,” you said carefully, “you are being a pest.”
Thor bent, just enough to brush his lips against the corner of your mouth. “A pest?”
“Mm, needy pest..”
Another kiss. Closer this time. His beard scraped sweetly at your skin.
“And yet,” he murmured, “you still have not sent me away.”
You opened your mouth to argue and found his gaze waiting for you, warm, intent, already certain of his victory. There was no mockery in it. Only want. Open, shameless want, and the fondness threaded through it made your stomach tighten more than the touch itself.
Because that was always the danger with Thor.
Not merely that he desired you.
That he did it so openly. So lovingly. As though wanting you was the simplest truth in the world.
His forehead touched yours.
“Come here,” he asked this time, softer now.
And this time, when his hands slid from your thighs to your hips, you let him pull you forward.
The sound he made was deep and satisfied, almost reverent. He kissed you properly at last, and it was all heat and patience breaking at once, his mouth warm and thorough, one hand climbing up your back while the other stayed firm at your waist, keeping you close as though you might still think to wriggle free.
You kissed him back with less grace than you might have liked.
Thor seemed delighted by that too.
He took and took, kissing you until your lips felt swollen, until your neat little task on the desk no longer seemed to belong to the same world as this one. By the time he let you breathe, your hands had drifted up over his shoulders, fingers slipping into the ends of his hair, and his pupils were blown wide with pleasure.
“There you are,” he murmured.
You were still catching your breath. “I was always here.”
“Aye,” he said, thumb brushing your lower lip. “But now you are paying attention to me.”
You might have rolled your eyes, if his hand had not chosen that exact moment to slide up the inside of your thigh again. This time there was no hovering. No almost. His fingers spread, then settled hot and possessive where your body was already softening, already betraying you.
Your inhale stuttered.
Thor watched your face, fascinated. Always fascinated. As though every little reaction you gave him was a marvel.
“Going to tell me to stop?” he said.
The words should have felt like a challenge.
Instead they landed warm between you, full of confidence, full of knowledge. He knew what answer he would get. Or rather, what answer your body had already given him.
His thumb stroked once, just enough to make your thighs twitch around his hand.
You swallowed.
“Enough,” you tried.
Thor’s eyes flicked up to yours, bright with laughter and heat. “Nay.”
Then he kissed you again, the hand between your thighs moved with slow, deliberate purpose, rough fingers finding you already warm, already wanting, until any remaining thought of work dissolved entirely.
He didn't rush; instead, he explored with possessive intent, one finger first, thick and insistent, stretching you open as your slick heat welcomed him, coating his skin in your arousal. The intrusion was unyielding yet tender, his callused tips curling against your inner walls with a deliberate drag that sent sparks racing up your spine. Then a second joined, scissoring gently to widen you further, the pressure building a deep, aching fullness that made your hips buck involuntarily against his palm.
“Thor-”
“Aye, sweet girl.” His voice had gone rough. You could feel his restraint in it now, fraying fast.
Your head tipped back. His mouth dropped to your throat at once, catching the exposed line of it as though he had been waiting for the invitation. The scrape of beard, the hot press of lips, the broad weight of his hand working you into softness…it was too much and exactly enough, the kind of attention that made your whole body feel helplessly, gloriously known.
“This was your fault,” you whispered, because saying anything sweeter felt dangerous.
He laughed against your skin, fingers pressing more firmly until your breath broke around a helpless sound.
He thrust slowly at first, withdrawing almost to the tips before plunging back in, each motion deliberate, grinding the heel of his hand against the swollen nub that throbbed under his touch. The wet sounds of your body yielding to him filled the air, mingling with your ragged gasps, as he hooked his fingers just so, brushing that sensitive ridge inside you that unraveled your composure thread by thread.
Warnings : smut, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, protect your willy), penetrative sex, use of pet names (dove, my queen, pet), reader is referred to with she/her, condescension/degradation, overstimulation
————————————————————
The heady scent of sex and sweat is all she can focus on in the room. She’s so on edge, so delectably delirious, and whilst she may be riding him, legs quivering from lifting herself up and down upon his cock, her body is utterly his. The sheen of sweat coating her skin shines against candlelight, and the whine that escapes from the very back of her throat elicits a pleasured groan from the blond god beneath her.
“Look at you, pet,” his tone is almost mocking as he lifts his arm to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You mortals should allow yourself pleasure more often. Look what it does to you,” all she could do in response was let out a whimper, unable to talk from cumming on his dick so many times. She had lost track of how many times she had done so after number four, pure bliss cutting off her train of thought.
Thor sat upright, kissing along her collarbone, his hand on the small of her back. The change in position had his cock brushing her sweet spot, leaving her with her head thrown backwards in pleasure and her hips grinding down onto his. The chuckle that erupts from his throat is almost cruel. “Still so desperate for more, aren’t you, my queen?” His voice sent shivers running up and down her spine, and he felt her nails dig into his arm. “Lay back, pet,”
She followed his instruction obediently, Thor shifting with her. The change in position allowed Thor to control the pace, and the adjustment had her on the brink of an orgasm within minutes.
“Fuck, Thor, I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum,” she said through moans and curses, hardly able to talk at all.
“Me too,” he panted, an arm on the left side of her head pushing him off the bed. He used his other arm to guide her gaze to his, brushing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Let go, my queen,” he whispered. They reached their peak in unison, each aiding the other as they rode out their high. Thor spent a moment regaining his breath before he pulled out, laying next to her on the bed and grasping her hand in his own.
AN: Here is my entry for the Lady Marmalade Challenge, organised by @yarnforbrains on the Thot Neighbourhood Discord Server.
NB - Sex work is work. I will not be taking questions on this.
Additionally, I have never used a Violet wand, but I have done extensive research over the past few weeks. Please message me if I have got something extremely wrong...
Beta’d by @maladaptivexxdaydreaming
Header by @yarnforbrains, dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me.
Find my master list here
Summary: You’re eager to try something new, something kinky. Deciding you need to find an expert, you visit Lady Marmalade’s House of Tea and Jam and a certain master of all things electricity.
Pairing: Thor x female reader.
Word Count: 2.8k
CW: Sex Work, Electro-play (and explicit sexual content), Size kink, Aftercare.
You fidgeted as you sat on the edge of the unfamiliar bed, your fingers running back and forth over the plush red and gold bed sheets. Red and gold were the theme of the room, making you feel as though you were in the bedroom of a member of royalty.
The door opened and you jumped to your feet, embarrassed to be found sitting on the bed. It felt too intimate for a first meeting, which was ridiculous, considering why you were here. You clasped your hands together in front of you, your fingers twisted together.
Oh god!
Thor looked even better in the flesh than he had in the pictures you’d seen when contemplating this. Red harem pants, a gold vest and brocade slippers were all he wore, his hair, complete with braids, hanging loose around his shoulders.
Fuck. You really were doing this.
You wiped your hand down your dress and held it out to him.
“Erm, hi! Thank you for seeing me.”
A chuckle broke from his lips and he took your hand in one of his and then covered it with the other. They were so big!
“Thank you for wanting to see me.”
His voice was a rich baritone, slightly accented, and you swore you felt your heart skip a beat. He guided you back over to the bed, sitting and drawing you down to perch beside him. His thigh was pressed against yours and you could feel the heat of him through the thin material of your dress.
“Relax, little one. Everything that happens in this room is your choice and yours alone. You’re as nervous as a little mouse.”
A missish giggle slipped out, and you brought your free hand up to cover your mouth.
“Sorry. I’ve just never done anything like this before.”
“Then I am honoured that you have chosen me. I hope that you will enjoy our time together.”
“So, umm, how does this go?”
Another deep chuckle and he brought the back of his hand up to your face, brushing over your cheekbone with his knuckles, before he leant forward to speak softly in your ear
“Well, first, I need to ask you - did you request me because of my area of expertise?”
Your body shivered at his touch and you nodded, struck dumb by his aura.
“In that case, I’d better show you what we have to work with, and you can decide what takes your fancy. Yes?”
You nodded again, but he smiled and shook his head softly.
“I’m afraid that if you want to play with my special toys I’m going to need words, mouse. So, would you like to see them?”
You gulped, before pushing the word “Yes” from your lips.
He pulled you to your feet and your hands pressed against his chest for balance. You tipped your head up, so you could look at him, and were immediately hypnotised by his blue eyes. He observed you for a moment, as though by looking at you he could gain insight into your wants and desires - maybe he could - and then he led you over to a tall cabinet near the bed. He stood behind you, your back pressed up against his chest, and the warmth of him continued to burn through your clothes. His hips were pressed against your buttocks and you were certain you could feel him.
It appeared he was big all over…
Thor reached around you, and opened the doors to his cabinet and you gasped at the contents. Some of it was familiar to you; blindfolds, cuffs and even a spreader bar, but your eyes were drawn to the other toys, things you’d read about and seen pictures of on the internet, but never in person.
“You can pick them up, just be careful.” He leant forwards, his chin resting on your shoulder, and one broad arm around your waist, his fingers brushing back and forth across your belly.
You reached out and took hold of the heavy looking back cylinder with the tapered end. You turned it in your hands and then looked over at all the accessories. The sheer number of them was mind boggling.
“You like the look of the wand then? Good choice. We can start nice and gentle and then work our way up.” He stood up to full height and tipped your chin up so he could look right into your face again. “If you don’t like anything, and I mean anything, or you need a break, you say ‘enough’, okay?”
You swallowed hard, but still replied.
“Yes…”
He beamed at you.
“Good girl… Let’s get started, shall we?”
Leading you back to the bed, Thor sat down once again, but instead of letting you settle beside him, he pulled you down to straddle his lap. Your legs splayed to accommodate his thick thighs as you dropped down with an inelegant squeak. He brought his face close to yours, your noses brushing against each other, as his hands ran up and down your back.
“Let’s get you all relaxed…”
His lips pressed to yours, kissing you gently. You realised they were incredibly soft, and you quickly recognised the smell and scent of his coconut chapstick. You gave out a little hum of contentment, which Thor took as a sign to move to the next stage.
One of his large hands moved from your back to slide up over one of your breasts, gently squeezing it over your dress and bra. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, hanging onto him lest you melt into a puddle on the floor. You barely noticed him slowly opening the buttons down the front of your dress, until you briefly felt cool air flowing over your skin, before it was seared by the heat of his hand. His thumb rubbed over your nipples in turn, encouraging them to stiff peaks within the lace of your floral peach bra.
It had been so long since you’d been touched like this, by someone who was focussed on your pleasure. Yes, this was a transaction, but you pushed away those sensible thoughts to just focus on the sensations.
Thor pinched one of your nipples with a bit more firmness and you gasped, your back arching and your head falling back. Your temporary lover took the opportunity to press his mouth to your throat, kissing and sucking at the delicate skin, then trailing down to your collarbone. He pushed the fabric of your dress away, the material fluttering to the floor, and the hand still resting on your back moved to the clasp of your bra. He stopped kissing your heated flesh to look up at you, meeting your eyes with a silent question.
With your lower lip caught between your teeth you gave him a small nod, and his nimble fingers made quick work of the fastening. Letting go of his shoulders, you smiled at him, shyly, and pulled the straps down your arms.
Thor kept his eyes on your face as you discarded your bra, before kissing you sweetly once more. A hunger rose up inside of you, and you clasped his face between your hands, the soft hair of his beard tickling your palms. You nipped at his plush lower lip, and he chuckled against your mouth, before opening his own to you.
Your tongues tangled and your hips jerked, and you were made aware of the fact that he was definitely enjoying this.
Suddenly, Thor twisted, taking you both down to the mattress, your body pinned beneath his bigger one. His lips were still against yours, and both his hands made their way to your chest. You whimpered as he plucked your nipples, your body shuddering under the erotic enslaught.
“So sensitive, little mouse. We’re going to have so much fun.”
His voice was a purr, deep and molasses thick.
As he unexpectedly pulled away from your body, you felt bereft, but you watched as he stood, shucked his vest, and pulling a hair tie from his wrist, twisted his hair up into a messy bun on top of his head. Moving over to his cabinet, he stood for a few moments, looking at the contents, then looking back at you, an impish expression spreading over his handsome face. He plucked up the blindfold and moved back to the bed.
Your eyes closed in anticipation, your hands fisting into the sheets, and you felt Thor drop delicate kisses to both eyelids before he slid the mask over your face, plunging you into complete darkness.
You listened hard, heard him moving back across the room and removing items from the cabinet, but he was back on the bed swiftly, the mattress dipping beside you. A little bit more shuffling and then there was no way to avoid hearing what came next.
The loud crackling made you jump.
“Sshh, shh. It sounds a lot harsher than it is. We’re going to start low and slow.”
Thor’s words soothed you, reminding you that he was an expert in this. You breathed out and tried to concentrate on what you could feel, knowing that any moment you would feel the stimulus of the electricity from the violet wand. You could barely breathe, and then you felt it, a prickly kind of tickle as Thor held the wand just above your skin.
“I’m using a glass electrode,” he explained softly. “It has a large surface area, so the sensation will be more diffuse, less sharp.”
He touched the glass to your thigh and you twitched, gasping out at the feeling, like a static shock. He made another gentle touch to your other thigh, and although you twitched again, it wasn’t as much as now you knew what to expect.
“How was that, little one? Too much? Too little?”
“Good… it was good.”
“Excellent…” The purr was back, and although you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was smiling. He stroked the wand down your thigh in a sweeping movement, and the tingling sensation flooded your nerves.
God, it felt better than you thought it would.
“More… please.”
You could almost hear his smirk at your request.
The next touch of the wand had you arching and crying out. The tingles were going straight to your cunt and you could feel yourself getting wet. Thor continued to tease you for the next few minutes, the wand touching you over your thighs, stomach and arms. You weren’t sure where he was going to aim for next, and the anticipation was intoxicating. What you didn’t expect though, was for him to stop, for the wand to fall silent. Despite your blindfold, you turned your head towards him, tilting your head to the side and letting out an involuntary whimper.
“Don’t worry little one. I’m just changing it up a bit.” He shuffled a bit more, and you wondered what he was doing. “Tell me, mouse. You’ve done some research about violet wands, yes?”
“Yes…”
“So what type of play did we just do?”
“Direct.”
“Correct. So what do you think comes next?”
As your brain put two and two together, the crackling noise started up again. You felt the tingle, the spark jumping to your skin moments before he trailed a finger up your leg, from your ankle up to your inner thigh.
“Oh, fuck!”
He chuckled again at your reaction.
“That’s not the answer, is it?” His finger drew swirls across your lower abdomen, running along the lacy edge of your underwear, making you clench.
“In..Indirect.”
“Good, little one. Now, if I touch you with my skin, or with something conductive, you will feel it. Let’s start with my finger tips.”
Thor’s hand moved further up your body, with you moaning and writhing the entire time. Just when you thought the sensations couldn’t get any better, he started to circle one of your nipples. The flesh instantly puckered and you hoped the room was sound-proof, given the strength of your cry.
You lost time as he played with each breast in turn, massaging the weight of them, and then gently torturing each stiff peak. You were certain your underwear was now ruined.
“I’m looking forward to this next bit.” You heard the undercurrent of amusement in Thor’s voice as he spoke, guessing it was really to himself rather than you. You wondered what he meant, but in the next instant realised, as you almost came on the spot when he encompassed one of your breasts with his hot, wet mouth.
“Fuuuuuuuuuck.”
Your back arched, your body bowed off the bed. You swore you felt the fabric of the sheet give under your fists. You were babbling now, unable to verbalise how you felt, your body a slave to the brand new sensations.
Thor’s free hand travelled down your body, the reverse of the path it had taken previously, but when he reached your panties, he didn’t go past them.
No, he stopped, and then dipped his hand underneath.
His electrifying fingers slid through your thoroughly saturated folds and you were vaguely aware of his amused hum as he explored. You squirmed and wailed in pleasure beneath his touch, and once he’d made his way to your clit, it only took a few strokes before you were thrown over the edge into the most intense orgasm you’d ever had. The twin sensations of his caress, married with the tingle and slight pain the electro-stimulation brought was an intoxicating feeling.
Thor carried you through your high, first by letting go of the violet wand and cutting the electrical supply, and then by slowing and gentling his touch. You were breathing hard, head dizzy and tears leaking from your eyes as you came down. Thor’s large hands ran up and down your arms, soothingly.
“There you go, little one. So good for me, so beautiful when you come. Take a deep breath, yeah? It can be a little overwhelming the first time. Shh, shh. When you’re ready I’ll get you some water.”
Shakily your hands moved up to your face, pushing off your blindfold and you blinked as you got used to the light again. You saw Thor smiling at you, and you couldn’t help but smile in return. You sat up gently and he reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a fresh water bottle and you were thankful for the sports cap as you swallowed the refreshing liquid down.
Thor cleared the bed of his toys, then slid back onto it, next to you. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he encouraged you to lay back against his chest.
“How was that for you, my nervous mouse?”
“Amazing. Thank you.”
You twisted in his hold, looking at him earnestly, eyes wide and bright. He grasped one of your hands and gave it a small shake.
“No, thank you. Thank you for letting me show you this, for choosing me to give you this pleasure. Do you think it’s something you would want to do again, now you’ve tried it?”
You grinned, buoyed up in a way you hadn’t been in a long time.
“Oh, definitely, but as I’ve not really got anyone else to…umm… play with, would it be okay if I came back again?”
“I would be honoured, little one. There is so much more to show you, for you to experience. There are pinwheels, mylar floggers, finger claw and the internal electrodes...”
He brought his head down to yours and rubbed the side of his nose against yours. “I will show you the pleasures of exquisite pain whenever you wish, my mouse.”
You tipped your head and pressed your lips to his briefly. You were sated for the time being, but certain you would be returning. Thor helped you to freshen up and dress, and he gave you another kiss at the door as you folded the bills into his hand.
Thor watched you go, a small private smile on his lips as he turned to tidy up, ready for his next customer. After cleaning all of the accessories, he placed them back in their designated places in his cabinet. He was happy that you’d had a good time; he prided himself on his ability to bring his clients to heights of ecstasy they’d never experienced before.
The one thing that never ceased to amaze him though, was that no-one ever noticed that the wand wasn’t attached to a power supply.
He held his hand up and watched the sparks of electricity travel between his fingers, before whistling to himself and changing the bedding.
Pairing: Thor x F!Reader
Wordcount: 10K
Warnings: Explicit AF. Rough smut. Serious GORE. Sex Pollen. Post-Thor 1 (pretend Loki is forgiven). Hair being pulled/fisted. Orcs being maimed. Thor being a dick. Brief allusions to attempted assault.
Summary: Thor broke your heart. He wants to fix it. Things get heated in a cave.
A/N: idk what this is, but the thor inspo is peak
The woods on Asldan were full of shadows - heavy with the perfume of soil and rain-slick leaves. A gloom ensnared the air, sagging like a wet blanket upon Thor’s shoulders. He could see his breath as he ventured deeper, the temperature dropping with each passing hour. The trees were tall on this planet, taller than any on Asgard and yet they did nothing to insulate the area, provide a brush of heat.
Thor tilted his head up, studying how the thick gray branches blotted out the scarlet shade of the moon.
A blood moon. According to his brother, his power was useless here.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like that this land was foreign to him. He didn’t like feeling hindered by the natural elements of said land where danger could lurk close. He absolutely loathed the fact that she was here with him. He could not concentrate with her striding ahead - a constant in his field of vision.
Beneath their feet were flowers, thousands and thousands of damp blooms that gave off a sickly-sweet scent. They were various colors: deep pink, pale blue, gold, and ruby red. The shades of them were now muddled and dirty from their march. They could not step anywhere without crushing them with their boots, making a tacky, syrupy paste as they cautiously advanced through the strange forest.
Thor’s senses were sharp. The breath of something wrong whispered at the nape of his neck, and ruffled his braided hair. It was why they were here to begin with. Asldan was under Asgard’s protection and there had been rumors that a dark presence had enveloped the area that surrounded Mt. Gorna. Rumor became fact when a group of villagers disappeared on a hunt. Their bones - bleached and picked clean - had been left on the path as a warning.
“It’s orcs,” Loki surmised - his long fingers tapping his chin as he studied the area around the skeleton pile. Thor wrinkled his nose at the thought. He disliked orcs immensely. The smell alone would stick to your clothes for weeks.
“I’ll do a search,” Thor suggested. “Check out the forest. Find their camp if they have one.”
“You’ll need back-up, of course.”
Thor lifted a mocking brow. “So concerned for your brother?”
Loki narrowed his gaze. “No,” he replied stiffly. “But - your lovely lightning show won’t work on this planet.” He pointed up to the sky where the moon hung - its pearly sheen had a touch of pink. “Blood moon - it tempers our energy.”
“Just fists then?”
Loki nodded. "Your favorite."
“I assume you’ll be joining me?”
“I’ve called someone better.”
Thor frowned. On the surface, his brother’s expression appeared impassive, but Thor knew him well enough to sense trickery afoot.
“Who-”
“Loki?” A soft, throaty voice sounded from the entrance to the village. It pierced Thor through the chest - finding the exact vulnerable center of him. He momentarily shut his eyes at the familiarity of that voice. The ache of it sang through his head with the same comfort as his mother’s lullabies.
He dragged a hand through his hair and stared at his brother, incredulous. Loki smirked.
"You didn’t,” Thor murmured, peeking over Loki’s shoulder. His heart plummeted.
“It’ll be good for you both,” Loki returned under his breath.
When she finally spotted Thor, the look on her face said differently.
***
The forest was so dim that it seemed as if the shadows pulled at their clothes and hair. She marched ahead, the darkness drinking her skin - consuming it with relish. Thor tried to keep close, afraid he’d lose her in the night. She wasn’t making it easy.
She’d barely said a word to him since she’d arrived, apparently not realizing that Thor would be there. When Loki admitted that he wouldn’t be joining them as well, her expression twisted into something murderous.
“I’ve got to do things here.”
“Like what?”
“Wait for the other reinforcements. It’ll be easy, pet. You’re doing some simple reconnaissance.”
“I hope you choke.”
Thor had had enough of her silence. It unsettled him especially when they had once shared everything with each other.
“I’m glad you came,” he finally exclaimed - a little too loud even for him. “I-I know things have been difficult between us-”
She whirled around forcing him to abruptly halt to avoid crashing into her. Her eyes narrowed to slits, pinning him to the spot. “I came because Loki asked. I didn't come for you.”
Thor grimaced. Of course, she did. He had been foolish to think otherwise. Their history was complicated. They’d been childhood friends, connected at the hip. They’d also been betrothed in the sense that his father had wanted it and intended for it to happen. After Thor had begun to understand his father’s intentions, he rebelled and rebelled hard. He threw the whole of his weight against his father’s wishes. They were too young. He had so much left to do and see and conquer.
She was his adorable friend who had driven both him and Loki insane. Their proverbial third wheel. He could not fit her into a different box. They’d fought and scratched and played knights and witches.
One time, Thor had accidentally knocked her out of their treehouse and she’d broken her arm. It had taken weeks for her to forgive him. She’d ignored every attempt he’d made to fix it. Gifts. Sweets. Animals he’d snatched from the garden. Finally, she’d shoved him into the lake outside the palace and he’d cracked his head open. Only then was it fair. That’s how it was. Wild, horse-play. Give and take.
He didn’t have to be fragile for her.
As they had gotten older, things had inevitably turned. Thor was off winning wars and discovering his baser needs. She was at home - training with Sif or learning magic from his mother.
The worst part was that he knew she was in love with him. He saw it plainly on her face every time he returned from a battle or a hunt. He’d sweep her up in his arms as a greeting.
“My favorite girl,” he’d murmur as she beamed at him. He’d kiss her cheek, set her down, and then promptly abandon her for a celebration at the tavern or the brothel (usually both).
“You’re leading her on,” Loki accused.
“I’m not,” Thor snapped. “I’m just not ready to settle down.”
“If you did, would it even be with her?”
“If father wishes it.”
“I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” Loki hissed. “How sweet of Thor to marry you out of duty when you are so utterly in love with him.”
“I do care for her,” he countered with equal irritation. “Why are you so angry about this anyway? Sounds as if you want to marry her.”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Fuck off. She’s the only person who makes you bearable.”
Thor had assumed she’d wait. Of course, he had not, outright, communicated this with her, but he had thought it obvious. She adored him. They spent so much time together even if that time had waned in the years he was proving himself to his father - fulfilling his duties as crown prince.
Then - he’d fucked it. He’d thoroughly wrecked the connection between them.
He’d gotten dead drunk at her birthday party and his actions had hurt her feelings terribly. She had never really looked at him the same way again and Thor had suffered for it. He’d been blind to her, realizing too late just how much he had actually loved her and her presence in his life.
So lost in his memories, Thor didn’t realize that they had begun to enter the area of the forest they intended to examine. This was where the villagers had claimed the hunters disappeared. She stopped suddenly - shooting her arm out to block him from going further.
“Do you hear that?” she whispered. Thor stilled - his instincts taking over as he pricked up his ears to listen to the night. At first, there was only the crunch of the matted flowers under their boots. There was her unsteady breathing and the thrum of her heart mixing with his own.
“To the East,” she added.
He caught it. The trees creaked and the leaves rasped and beneath that was the rumble of feet and ragged grunting and then the smell. There it was: the unmistakable stench of unbathed creatures and blood and soiled leather.
“That’s-that’s a lot of orcs,” she mumbled as Thor lifted his hammer. It would only work as a bludgeoning tool due to the blood moon. He could feel it just as Loki had said. It was like he was being pinned down by a giant fist that he could not shake or wiggle out from under. She pulled her twin blades from their sheaths - the handles bone-white and shiny in the dark.
“Didn’t I give you those?” he remarked casually, trying very hard to keep the worry from his voice.
“You did,” she confirmed - her eyes flickering from one tree to the next - her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. The orcs’ howls were distorting - rolling together and exploding as one organized shriek. As the creatures came closer, their cries battered against them. Thor’s ears rang as he squared his feet, twirling his hammer by the leather thong. He crouched, ready to leverage his weight and spring forward and she matched him. The orcs were surrounding them - yellow stares glinting in the pitch-black foliage. There was the whoosh of an arrow that narrowly missed his head. He tensed as it embedded itself into the bark of the tree behind him.
“Maybe - it’ll be fun,” she joked, giving him a sidelong glance that was obviously strained.
He began to realize that he’d made a mistake allowing her to come here. He’d made a mistake not gathering reinforcements. The forest shuddered. The wind picked up and dragged that wretched smell to them.
***
It was startling to watch her fight. She had only gotten better - transforming from the sweet, soft girl she had been to something fiercer - razor-sharp. She plunged her dagger into an orc’s mouth before wrenching it through the tissue of its jaw. There was a fountain of black blood that splattered across her face. She huffed, wiping the back of her hand over her cheek and smearing it down her skin. Her lips twitched into an amused smile that made Thor’s gut twist, his balls draw up tight, and his cock fill.
He could almost hear his brother in his head. Now is not the time, you lech.
She was a revelation - parrying and darting as she cleaved her way through the horde of enemies. When one of her knives was kicked from her hand, she stole the ugly, crooked sword from an orc double her size. After she disarmed it, she spun in an arc, her blade swiping with an audible ting as she severed flesh, bone and tissue. A head bounced. A second. She slit another from sternum to belly, the orc’s entrails spilling out and steaming in the frigid air.
Thor was handling as many as he could, attempting to act as a barrier between the flood of orcs and the girl at his side.
Though he had certainly faced off against fiercer enemies, it seemed as if the numbers would not dwindle. Wave after wave of them slammed into Thor and then into her - circling around the both of them before pressing inward with the same force of a rock slide. Thor tried to see over the crowd in order to find the end to it, but there was none. Just the shadows and the trees and the moist fog. This was an army.
“Not good,” she managed to grit out before gasping when a gnarled blade bit her skin. “Where the fuck is Loki? Sif?”
“I don’t know,” Thor snapped before stumbling forward when something hard came down across the back of his head. It dazed him for a moment, which was enough for a surging mass of orcs to overcome him. Gleeful, they rained blows down upon his torso, their swords nicking whatever bare skin was available to them. He was furious. Orcs, of all things, did not get the better of him and he surged upward with a roar that echoed off the smooth tree trunks. He shoved them away, heaving his hammer into one skull and then the next. The crack and splinter of bone. The slick noise of soft tissue and viscera. His skin stung and he could feel hot blood drip down the nape of his neck and into his undershirt. When he glanced in her direction, she was faring no better. She was visibly weary as she pushed back against the enemy. They could not be captured by them. Orcs were horrific beings who would probably do horrific things, drawing out their pain until there was nothing left. It was unthinkable.
They needed an escape - a place they could hide and wait until Loki and whichever reinforcements he’d called could come and find them. He did not like to be weak and this planet - this moon - was pinching him in its light, draining him of his powers. He should have prepared better. He should have made sure it was safe to bring her in the first place.
“I-I think this is not going the way we hoped,” she sputtered - her voice wary. She cast him a sharp glance, there was a line of red across her cheek that had begun to bead with blood. “It would be really very embarrassing if you and I get beaten by a pack of orcs.”
“To be fair,” He grunted as a club came down upon his shoulder, causing him to stumble. “There’s a lot of them and some look quite bigger than usual.”
She huffed a laugh before dodging the wide swing of a blade that nearly took her head. “Maybe - maybe you should-”
She was suddenly cut off and Thor whirled around, fear gripping him. He could no longer spot her under the crowding mass of creatures. “Fuck,” he growled. “Fuck - fuck-” He stormed into the fray, punching and disarming anyone in his path. The air filled with the wet sucking squelch of his blade ripping through orc-flesh. He snapped the neck of one and beheaded the one beside it. He could taste their brackish blood in his mouth. Still, he could not see or even hear her and his stomach turned over at the thought of her being held down and -
There. He spotted the glint of her armor.
She was struggling under the weight of three orcs. One was on top of her, his claws bound around her throat as he slicked its grainy tongue across her cheek. She was bucking beneath him - trying to wrench herself free, roll out from underneath.
Thor went cold. His muscles bunched underneath the crash of his rage. It only had to be seconds between when he had lost her to when he had found her, but it felt like an eternity. He was wasting precious seconds as this beast assaulted her.
Thor charged forward, swinging his hammer with such force that it practically beheaded the two holding her arms. He had other plans for the one straddling her. He dropped the weapon at his feet, lunged forward and wrapped his hands around its neck, lifting it off of her. It took nothing as he ripped its head from its body - the splash of hot blood hitting his boots. He relished in its dying gurgle, the skitter of fragmenting of bone as he tasted its death.
She sat up - her expression so shocked it was almost endearing. It was a familiar look, one she’d used for him before - when they were children and he’d managed to accomplish some wild feat like scaling the palace wall or wrestling a feral beast. It tugged at his heart. He offered his hand and she took it, her fingers trembling slightly as he pulled her to her feet. As soon as she stood, she tugged herself from his grasp.
He tried to ignore her obvious irritation at his touch and scrutinized her for injury. “Are you -”
Without word, she snatched a dagger from his belt and speared it into the eye of the orc who appeared above his shoulder. Its ax fell from its limp hand, hitting the ground.
“I liked that dagger,” he mumbled. She was so close to him that he could feel her breath puff against the Adam's apple of his throat. Her gaze raked across his face, her lips twitching before she withdrew the blade - splattering his skin in a warm film of gore. Lovely.
“You can clean it,” she retorted before adding sweetly. “My prince.” He shuddered. Fucking minx.
She turned away from him and threw herself back into the fray. The orcs continued to flood out from the shadows like an untapped spout. They looked as if they were coated in oil. Their ears curled and disfigured and their hair dark and lank and greasy. Some were massive, muscular and tall. Others short and swift. Thor had to admit that without his ability to harness lightning, they could not quell this.
He needed to change course. Immediately. She’d never give up - never stop - she’d fight until she dropped, which was exactly how he used to be. In the last year, he’d learned to be patient - to strategize and think before striving for a violent victory that could cost him.
He’d die before allowing her to fall to this.
He began to move closer to her, lifting his hammer from the ground and swinging it through the mass of howling orcs. He could grab her and run - run until they found a place to hide and then wait for Loki. They were out of options and he could see that she was waning under the onslaught of weapons. She was cut and bleeding and though she would heal quickly, she needed rest to do that. Thor made a decision and he would not wait for her opinion. He wouldn’t put it past her to want to remain in order to prove something. He sped toward her, his arm shooting out and gripping her wrist before dragging her toward the deep of the forest.
“Don’t let go of me,” he ordered as he began to sprint through the woods. The gnarled branches still hid the red moon. There was no clear path and so Thor relied on his senses, hoping that the Gods would lead him to a place they could mend. His adrenaline pulsed and his muscles shivered and tensed as he pushed and pushed forward. Everything burned in a way that fed him.
The cool air licked at his hair and his stinging skin. He could finally breathe.
***
Thor grunted as he slid the enormous boulder against the entrance to the cave. She’d spotted it in the rock wall of the mountain. Thor would never have noticed it, but he knew that she had a different connection to the natural world. She was quiet - softer - more in tune with spirits than he was. He could wrestle a storm. She could speak to things beyond the veil of reality. His mother was similar and he had always assumed that Odin had chosen her for him because of that tether to a magic Thor could not access.
“Well,” He clapped his hands together as he smiled down at her. “Looks like we’ll just have to wait.”
She slid her hand over a pile of stones and they shimmered dully - casting off a pale blue glow that bleached the shadows away. “Do you think any of them saw us?”
“No,” Thor said as he sat down beside her. His muscles screamed at him, his knees popping as he leaned back against the cave wall. “We would have known by now.”
“Or they’re just waiting to make their move.”
“They aren’t that intelligent.”
She scoffed, but didn’t argue. Instead, she ran her knuckles across her cheek, wincing when she hit something tender. He reached out to touch her, but she flinched and he dropped his hand.
“Are you alright?” He attempted, instead.
“Well, everything hurts and an orc licked my face and probably gave me some hideous disease,” she replied flatly. “I’m fantastic.”
His own frame ached. His body bruised and battered and a throbbing had begun to swell inside his skull. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he admitted. “I should have handled it better. I didn’t expect there to be so many.”
She shrugged. “I came knowing the risks”
“You came because of Loki.”
“I did.”
They settled into another awkward silence. He hadn’t spoken to her in months and when he did, there were few words exchanged. He’d gone to Midgard, battled with Loki though that conflict had not yet completely healed. He’d become worthy. He’d had the uncomfortable epiphany that he had not been a good man. He wanted to rectify that and it started with her and how he had betrayed her at her birthday festivities a year ago. It had been the first time that he had well and truly noticed how beautiful she had become. She was no longer the adorable, girlish shadow of a girl who worshiped him. She was an alarmingly stunning woman. It had shaken him and it had also shaken him to see how many others had realized the same.
***
“Thor,” Frigga snapped. “Please don’t overdo it. The party has barely begun.”
Thor rolled his eyes, spreading out in his seat beside his brother. He gripped his ale and hugged it firmly to his chest as he scanned the crowd. They’d been gone for months on a campaign in Vanaheim and he was itching to return to all his familiar hobbies like getting thoroughly drunk and bedding all the women he could.
Loki swirled his wine, squinting into the glass. “Father spared no expense for this. This wine is from Alfheim.”
“It’s a welcome party, too,” Thor pointed out. “A celebration of our victory.”
“You shouldn’t celebrate too hard, brother. She hasn’t even arrived.”
“Yes…yes,” he sighed as he sat up in his seat, drumming his fingers against the marble table. He popped a grape into his mouth - shifting in the chair that felt too small for him. He hadn’t been able to relax during those long months away. It had been tense and violent and seemingly unending. “Where is the little demon, anyway? She’s always greeted us on our return.”
Loki smirked. “According to mother, her maids have been attending to her all day. You’d think father was preparing her for sale.”
Thor lifted an eyebrow. “Very funny.”
“Ah yes,” Loki tipped his head. “How could I forget that she’s yours?”
Thor grit his jaw. “It isn’t like that. She can do whatever she wants.”
“-and she wants you.”
“Loki-“
Suddenly, the volume in the great hall receded to a murmur. Frigga hurried to her seat, squeezing both of her sons’ shoulders with an expression that pointedly said - behave. Thor didn’t understand why his mother was so excited. He watched as his father entered the hall, his white hair brushed away from his face as his eye fell upon his sons. He smiled, announcing the honored guest’s name, turning behind him to take her hand and guide her inside.
At the sight of her, both Thor and Loki inhaled sharply. She had changed in the months they had been gone. She had completely grown into her features. The make-up only accentuated them. The dress clung to her, gauzy and pale and shimmering like a star fall. Thor swallowed as his brother shot him a bewildered look.
The silent question hung between them. How? When?
She had been pretty before, of course. But now? She was devastating.
***
Thor drank and did not stop. He watched her - unable to focus on anything else. He watched as she accepted every man’s invitation to dance. He watched as she laughed and sang along to the music and did not look once in his direction.
Even Loki had finally gone up to her, embracing her warmly while casting Thor a delighted snicker above her head.
When Loki returned to his seat, he was direct with his warning. “If you don’t speak to her, she will forget your existence, brother and then what will you do?”
That had been enough to startle him. Thor had never truly had to strive for attention. He had been handed everything, especially with women. He huffed when yet another man confronted her, offering his arm to guide her to where the band played.
“Enough,” Thor growled as he stood abruptly, knocking his goblet across the table. He ignored it, swiftly kicking his chair back and heading toward her.
Thor directed a hellbent glare at the man who held her arm and he released her almost immediately. “Apologies,” he stammered before disappearing into the crowd. She frowned - perplexed before noticing Thor.
Her face softened and he felt something bright unfurl in his chest. She was still his.
“Did you do that?” She didn’t sound angry, in fact, her lips lifted in a small smile that Thor returned.
“I may have.”
“How rude.”
He shrugged as he strolled toward her, his eyes raking over her body - the dress that clung to her. She shifted under his scrutiny. “I didn’t like him touching you.”
She inhaled, her gaze widening a fraction. “Oh.”
He cocked his head. “Oh?”
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she seemed to focus on his breastplate. She wrapped her arms around herself - a nervous habit that she’d exhibited since she was a girl. His flirting was making her skittish - completely on edge. That was a good sign. It was then that Thor realized just how well he knew her and how much his presence affected her. He knew her scent - her tics - her likes and dislikes. Quickly, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her away from the main floor and into the shadows. He crowded her up against one of the marbled columns, his cape enough to cover them.
He took her chin between his hands, gently tipping her face up. Their eyes met and her mouth parted. He dug his thumb into flesh beneath her lower lip while wedging his thigh between her legs. “What are you doing?” she murmured, clutching at his waist.
He lowered his head as if about to kiss her before suddenly veering to the side to skim his mouth across her cheek - the line of her jaw. She dug her fingers into his armor and made a pained sort of mewl that went straight to his cock. “Thor,” she whimpered and oh that sang to him. He wanted to fuck her right there. The alcohol had sufficiently made him loose and too warm. He felt as if he had a fever. He grasped the back of her head, fisting her hair that had been so artfully done up. He intended to ruin it - to pull her costume apart inch by inch. He ducked down again to press his lips to her ear.
“How lovely you are,” he marveled and she shivered. “Are you mine?”
He didn’t know what had come over him. He had never been so desperate to possess a woman like this. He was fearful. He was anxious that she’d be taken from him by someone else - someone who didn’t understand her as he did.
He shoved his thigh against her - the muscle of it rubbing into the hot, slick place between her legs. “Tell me.”
“Yes,” she answered - her grip on him tightening. “Yes - I’m yours.”
He glanced toward the dance floor then the banquet tables. The last of the dessert was being served. His head was too heavy for this. His cock distractingly hard. He knew she’d have to thank her guests - say goodnight to Odin and Frigga.
“Come to my chambers after you’ve finished,” he instructed, before pulling her fiercely against him and bending down to suck a kiss into her neck. She jerked at the friction of his mouth - her gasp brushing his long hair. When he drew away, she looked dazed, her lashes fluttering and her lids heavy. He smirked, shooting her one last wink before striding off to his room.
Of course, nothing had gone as planned.
He’d found Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun drinking in his chambers. They’d goaded him into drinking more, which he did until he could barely see straight. There’d been others there - women - and it had all gone fuzzy. The next thing he knew, she was staring down at him - her expression crushed.
“Sweet one!” he crooned, reaching out to her only to have her lurch away from him.
“What is it?” he asked before glancing down and realizing that he was in his bed - naked - with two women on either side of him. “Wait-” he started as he tried to untangle himself from the limbs and sheets.
“Don’t,” she said - her voice soft and wet and unmistakably broken. She shook her head, wiping at her eyes before she rolled her shoulders back and pinned him with a glower he could feel down to his bones. “You haven’t changed at all,” She released a bitter laugh before turning on her heel and fleeing.
***
“So,” Thor began as he circled his wrists. “Are we going to talk about that night?”
“What night?” She stood up, wiping the dust from her knees.
She was going to play it that way.
“You know how sorry-”
She turned to look at him, arching one perfect eyebrow. “Who cares about that night, Thor? It was just you being you - stringing me along for your amusement.”
“No,” He stood up as well. The cave wasn’t exactly spacious and, by taking one step forward, he was already looming over her. “I got drunk, but I had every intention of-of being with you that night. I wanted you.”
She stared up at him - her brow furrowed. “And? That wasn’t a one-time thing, Thor. You’ve always dealt with me that way. You’ve done it since we were teenagers.” She shoved him hard in the chest and he stumbled back - surprised. “You couldn’t just tell me that you didn’t want to be with me?”
“It’s-it’s not that I didn’t want to be with you. It was - I had more to do. I had more to see. We were so young and I didn’t want to settle down. I wanted to be able to explore - find adventures-”
Her eyes widened. “Did it ever occur to you that I would have let you? I was your friend first. I would have gladly encouraged you to run off…to travel.” She shook her head, her voice lowering. “I would have gone on them with you.” She blew out a breath, her fingers coming up to rub her temples. “You always saw me as this irritating nuisance who got in your way. You saw me as your littler sister. You never took me seriously.”
“I’ll have you know that I did not see you as a sister,” he argued. “Trust me. There were many nights where I got off-”
“Oh fucking save it,” she hissed in such a venmous way that it actually silenced him. He felt like he’d been slapped. “My problem was the fact that you strung me along for years. You hurt me - devastated me. You-you fucked my friends over me and I couldn’t understand why? I didn’t get why I was so ugly to you.”
He opened his mouth before shutting it quickly - at a loss. “You only decided that you wanted me when it became obvious that there were others who might want me, too.” She exhaled out an ugly laugh. “Typical.”
“I-I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.”
“Is it not?” She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “Isn’t that your way, Thor? Take everything that you can’t have? Refuse anything that isn’t on your terms? Did you run off to Midgard and come back with your head on straight - have some weird revelation?”
“Well - actually - yes.” He stepped closer to her and she didn’t move away. “I treated you terribly. I know that. I want to make it right.”
She regarded him silently. Her demeanor was cool and yet he could see her fingers trembling against her arm. He was getting to her - he was cracking the indifferent mask she’d slid on. He gingerly took her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“I did love you - I do love you. I just - just wasn’t ready then.”
“You humiliated me,” she murmured so quietly that he almost missed it. For a second, her face sagged, her grief blatant and fierce and then she swallowed it. She pulled away from him, wiping her cheeks and averting her gaze.
“I know I did,” he replied helplessly. “I’m sorry. I-I truly hurt you and I know it. I felt it. I didn’t think. I never thought then. I never thought of others and I certainly didn’t think of you.” His voice had risen to something frantic. He wasn’t usually this unstable. He was very clearly losing this argument and he didn’t know how to prove that he had grown into his roots - that he had become the man she had wished for. He would have been a terrible partner then. He would have been unfaithful and rebellious. He opened his arms in supplication. “Tell me what to do to make it right.”
She scrutinized him for a moment before slumping back against the wall. “Why don’t we just-just try and sleep for a bit. This cave is giving me a headache. I think I’m allergic to something.”
“But-”
“Please,” she begged - her look pointed and direct and brooking no room for argument.
He nodded.
***
They sat in silence. Uncomfortable, agonizing silence. She was right. Thor did blissfully race through life without thinking of the consequences. He’d go on journeys under the guise of keeping Asgard safe, but it had always been for him and his honor and to make his father proud. He rested the crown of his head against the wall before peeking at her again. She was on her back, one of her fingers caught in her hair. Her mouth parted and her chest rose and fell slowly. Thank the Gods, he thought. Sleep would ensure that her body would knit back together. It would restore her strength.
He crossed his arms over his chest. The blood from his wounds had stuck his armor to him. He longed to remove it, but they were still in enemy territory. It would be too risky.
He tried to ignore the uncomfortable texture, instead focusing on her breathing, on the delicate thrum of her heart in the cool, dim light of their hideout. He prayed for sleep and blessedly, it came to him.
***
“Thor..”
He dreamed of her, which was nothing new. He dreamed of her so often that it had become a problem.
“Thor…”
She purred his name into his ear as he moved over her, covering her with his body as he rocked forward. She gasped, nails digging into his ribs, her lashes fluttering as she tipped her head back. He sealed his mouth to her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin beneath her jaw. He drew back - bearing his weight to leverage himself so he could slide deeper. She clung to his biceps before her hands skated down his naked back, his undulated muscles, and found his ass. She gripped it - forcing it down - forcing him further inside her until he was buried to the hilt. “Is that how you want it, little one? Deep and hard?”
“Thor!”
He startled awake - his arms shooting out to punch whatever had distressed her. He frowned. They were still in the cave. There was still the dull glow from the stones beside her head.
“Thor…” she gasped and it came out choked. He squinted and felt his heart jump into his throat. She was sweating, her eyes glassy and her lip nearly bitten through between her teeth. He crawled toward her and when he reached her, he slid his arms around her waist and tugged her into his lap. He brushed his knuckles over her cheeks - her brow that was now dripping with perspiration. She was hot to the touch - deadly hot.
“Is it a wound?” he asked - thoroughly panicked now. Was this an infection? Had the blades been poisoned? He coughed as something tickled his throat. He rubbed his nose where a burning sensation had begun to grow. She gazed up at him, her forehead creased in pain. She lifted her hand and pointed to the ceiling. Thor looked.
At first, he thought it was just the texture of the rock, but when he studied it closer he realized that the entire top of the cave was coated in what seemed like a fungus. Emerald green. Shiny. No doubt full of pollen.
How had they not seen that?
“Only-only opens at dawn,” she slurred. Thor glanced over his shoulder and observed that purple-pink light had begun to slip through the tiny openings in the stone they’d used to cover the entrance. He could see her face better. He could see that there was a thin film of gold on her lips - her nose and cheeks and chin. She must have been hit harder because she was on her back with her face pointed at the ceiling.
But still - it would have traveled and he’d -
There was a warm coiling in his stomach. He hadn’t noticed it at first. He’d been too worried about her. His skin was beginning to ache as if it was on too tight. His bones too big. He coughed again and when his palm cupped her cheek, it felt like he was cradling cool water. She blinked up at him - her pupils black and eating away at the natural color of her eyes.
Her breathing turned shallow, her chest beginning to heave in short pulses. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that made his vision blur. His cock was stiffening and when he caught her gaze, he realized that she could feel it too - nudging her lower back. Her mouth parted and she lifted her hand to graze it across his jaw, her thumb finding his lower lip before she dug the tip in. He rumbled - nearly lurching against her.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered. But her body wanted it. Her eyes were direct and hard on him. He wanted to bring her closer - as close as physically possible. Every piece of him demanded to find solace inside her - to fuck her and lick her and devour her whole.
No. No. He couldn’t.
He slid out from underneath her, scuttling backward until his spine hit the wall. She whimpered, rolling onto her side, her arms reaching out to him.
“It’s the pollen,” Thor swallowed as his groin pulsed and throbbed, his cock was now shoving up against his trousers. He reached underneath the band to rearrange it, relieve the pressure. “This isn’t you.”
She didn’t want him. She’d made that clear and he did not want her if she was under some spell - some biological aphrodisiac that was manipulating her body like a puppet.
When her fingers found his wrist, he jerked. Her touch was exquisite - it was like a foamy sip of good ale after weeks of being parched. He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth - his entire body was tense as a knot. He could not unleash it. He could not relax for a moment because if he did, he’d pin her to the ground and fuck her senseless.
She was wheezing as she tried to curl into a ball. One of her hands rested against her abdomen where she had undoubtedly begun to cramp. Her voice cracked as she begged him. “Thor - this - this is a very dire situation. We’ll die.”
“We may not,” He grunted - his breathing had grown ragged. “Loki will come for us.”
“And then we will have to get to a village and find an antidote and I’ve already inhaled too much of it.” Her words folded in on one another. There was a syrupy slur as she struggled to enunciate.
She was right. He couldn’t let her die and even if it didn’t kill her, the pain was obvious. She was trying to hide it. He could see it plainly in her face as her brows drew together and she bit her lower lip. She was hurting. Badly.
“It’s okay,” Her lips peeled into a tense grin that looked a shade wild. “I-I trust you.”
He groaned, shoving a shaky hand through his hair - loosening the braids. A lock of gold fell across his forehead, the end of it touching his lip. It burned. Every sensation that wasn’t her stung him. He was drenched in sweat and salt and blood. His ribs hurt from the earlier fight. “I won’t be able to control myself. I won’t-won’t be able to go easy on you.”
“I know. It’ll-it’ll be fine.” She was nodding frantically - crawling toward him.
He pinned her with pointed, dark stare because he didn’t believe she understood what she was signing up for. “I’m big, sweet one. It’s a lot.”
She shuddered, her breath hitching as she gazed up at him through her lashes. At some point during the night, she had gotten her armor partially down. He could see her breasts rising and falling where she’d loosened it. He’d have to help her out of the rest “I want you,” she demanded in a husky voice. “I can handle it.”
“It’s the pollen talking.”
“It’s not,” she whined as she twitched and shivered. “It’s not just the pollen. It’s-it’s making me want to fuck, yes… but I-I have enough of my-my faculties to know that I love you.”
He stilled. “You just said you didn’t.”
She made a wounded sound before she crept closer to him. Her eyes were dark and delirious but still hers. “I never said I didn’t still love you, Thor. I-I said you hurt me and I said that I didn’t believe you - didn’t believe that you really wanted me.” She sat back on her heels to regard him steadily. She was a sight with her hair wild about her face and her armor and undershirt falling down to reveal the tops of her breasts. Her skin swimming in gold from the pollen. “I was just-just trying -” A tremor shook her frame and Thor sat up, gripping her hand to steady her. “I was just going to make you suffer a little until you begged and now-” Her voice broke and, to Thor’s horror, there were tears slipping down her cheeks. “ - now you’re making me suffer because you’re - you’re suddenly deciding to be gallant and-and it fucking stings, Thor. Please. Please.” She whimpered.”You-you really are a fucking ass-”
He wrenched her forward, one arm snaking around her waist as he turned her on her back. His other hand released her wrist to come up and cradle her scalp as he kissed her. It was like a balm - a rush of relief that made him groan and pull her tighter. It was then that the pollen seemed to reach its crescendo inside of him - it swept him up in its hold - it caused warmth and desire to flood his veins. It ached in a way that startled him. It ached like he could not fix it unless he’d had her and as the pain intensified, he realized that he had also licked the pollen from her mouth.
Good. Then it would be devastating for both of them.
“Thor,” she moaned. “Fuck - yes yes yes please.”
He growled, the scent of her drowning him in a riptide. She yanked on his hair to drag him closer. He coaxed her lips apart, thrusting his tongue into the well of her perfect plush mouth.
They were intertwined, her arms wrapped around his neck as she nibbled on his lower lip. He snarled as a cramp took him. “Fuck,” he rasped against her teeth. “Fuck - that hurts. I’m sorry - sorry - didn’t know - I would have touched you sooner.”
“It’s fine,” she replied, winding her fingers through his braid and fisting it. They were devouring each other at this point - tongue and teeth and swallowing the other’s breath. He slid his hand beneath her leather skirt, down the inside of her thigh until he reached her knees, he pried them apart. “You were-were just trying to be good.”
He was. He was. He was trying to make up for all the other times that he had been an arrogant prick to her - the times he had hurt her deeply and the times he had chosen himself over her.
“Get inside me,” she gasped as his hands held her face. Her skin was screaming hot and it seemed to be getting worse rather than better. “I need - need you bare,” she continued as she lunged forward and crammed her face into his throat. He shoved at her armor, but it was stuck.
“Sit back,” he demanded. “I’ll help you.”
“No,” she murmured - words spilling into each other. “No-I-I can’t.”
Thor went rigid as he felt her start to go boneless. He pulled her away from his throat to look at her. Her eyelids drooped and her gaze was unfocused. Her hair was drenched in sweat and her chest was hitching as she struggled to breathe.
“Damn it,” he cursed. He’d wasted too much time denying her and now she was consumed by it - practically unconscious. He gingerly laid her on her back as he undid her armor. He ripped at the buckles, unhooking the straps as quickly as he could until she was free. He took off his own - wrenching off his chest plate - his cape - untying his trousers before wedging himself between her thighs. He touched her between her legs and she jerked. She was slick and velvety - clenching on nothing until he slid a finger inside her. She gasped, her thighs widening for him - her knees drawing up to find purchase against his ribs. He pressed a second finger into her, curling them both, before twisting his thumb up to flick at the swollen bundle of nerves at the peak of her sex. He circled and rubbed and almost immediately, he felt her cunt flutter around him in a climax. He removed his fingers, using her come to wet his own cock that was red and pulsing - standing straight up against his lower stomach. He didn’t think he’d ever been this hard in his life. He might explode - might burn up and snap like a bolt of lightning if he couldn’t get inside her.
“Please,” she begged - cracking - whimpering. “Not enough - it’s-I need more.”
“I know,” he rumbled as he covered her with his body. He rested his forearm beside her head, his other hand remained around his cock as he guided it against her, teasing the underside of his shaft through her folds. He had never felt like this - the intensity of the pollen was sending shockwaves through his system - he wanted to fuck and be fucked. His skin was so hypersensitive that it hurt - that even nudging the head of his cock against the seam of her sex made him dribble and spit -
The orgasm had seemingly helped her. She was more present as her palms found his cheeks and his jaw. He nuzzled into them - nosing at her skin. His chest was crushed against her tits and she lifted her hips for him - demanding as he stroked her -
“Please,” she repeated. “Thor-”
He drew himself back before snapping forward, sinking into her in one brutal stroke. He nearly finished right then - the tight, wet fist of her cunt unforgiving as it stretched to accommodate him. She was soaked. Blood-hot. A pained groan broke from the back of her throat - from the deep of her belly and he gripped her jaw and captured her mouth, swallowing down the rest of her wounded noises. He stayed there for a moment - allowing her to settle around him, allowing himself to savor the frantic pulses of her pussy around his length. “Good - good girl,” he managed to mutter against her lips. He rolled his hips back until only the tip of his cock remained inside her. He lifted himself up, bearing his weight as he scrutinized her expression.
“I-I won’t be able to stop,” he warned as he slowly, lazily began to slide forward, re-sheathing his cock into the drenched ache of her cunt. She arched, her head tipping back as he pushed and pushed - as if refitting her body to accept him - as if making room for himself.
“I don’t want you to,” she replied breathlessly. He made a low, hungry noise before gripping her knee and forcing it against her shoulder, the other he shoved to the floor, spreading her apart until she could not be bent further.
He fucked her - fucked her in such a furious, relentless fashion that she would have easily broken if she were any other species. He was overcome by the musky scent of her cunt and the floral grip of her hair. He practically folded her in half as the air vibrated with the staccato slap of his pelvis meeting her ass. Every pump of his hips punched a high-pitched whimper from her mouth. He wanted her sounds, too. He wanted to possess everything she released. He stole every mewl and cry that his cock forced out of her, tongue thrusting behind her teeth as she clung to him. He came and came again. He was incapable of softening and it did not matter. He wanted to fill her up until she couldn’t keep him inside - until she overflowed and runneth over and, even then, he’d keep going -
The ground was unforgiving against them and, once his head cleared enough, he rolled over so she could be on top. He planted his feet and slammed up into her, knocking a breathy little squeak from her chest. There was the delicious squelching music of her body accommodating his over and over again. With his hands bracketing her hips, he was enthralled by the sight of her pussy swallowing the thickness of him.
“Take what you need,” he coaxed as he gripped her, rocking her forward and back. She was stunning - her mouth parted on a continuous gasp - her lashes fluttering as she met him stroke for stroke. “Beautiful,” he praised. “Look at you.”
She bloomed beneath his admiration. Her face brightening.
“I wanted to hate you,” she lamented before curling over him and capturing his mouth. His beard scraped across her chin - her jaw. He sat up, sliding his lips down her chest to lick her tits - suck on the soft, ripe buds of her nipples. She held onto him, winding her arms around his shoulders as he teased them with his tongue and teeth. “I wanted to hate you so much.”
“I know.” He rasped, smoothing his hand up the spine of her back before sinking it into her hair, he dug his fingertips into her skull as he fucked her - as she fucked him. “You can take it out on me.”
He could see that this act was one mixed with anger and arousal - the two of them so interlocked that he wasn’t sure where she began and he ended. “I didn’t want our first time to be like this,” he admitted as the fever began to dissipate. He couldn’t recall how many times he’d already finished. He could feel it, though. His cock shoving his spend deeper. The thought of breeding her made him twitch.
“You’re so sentimental,” she teased in a haughty voice that pulled at him. “So soft.”
He went rigid before suddenly lifting her off of him and turning her around. He forced her onto all fours - his hand spread across her lower back to pin her down. “I wouldn’t say that,” he growled just as he drove back inside her.
She gasped - her cunt contracting violently around him. “Have you ever had something as big as me inside you, my love?”
She shook her head, crying out as he gave her another punishing thrust. “I know you don’t believe me, but I did think of it all the time,” he recalled in a low, conversational voice. He kneaded her ass with his hands, no doubt bruising the skin as he pulled her cheeks apart to watch him disappear inside the slick opening of her sex. He could see where the blades and fists from the orcs had left their marks, but they were disappearing as quickly as they’d landed. “I would fantasize about taking you - tasting you. I thought of how your small body would be unable to accept me and how I’d have to lick and eat your cunt until it could.”
She clenched at that, tightening around him in a searing knot of pleasure. The fever crept forward again. Both of them still burning - still tender with it and while every orgasm seemed to bring them back to themselves, it also made them want to fuck harder - kiss harder - break harder.
“Shit,” he hissed . “You liked that.” He blanketed himself over the curve of her back before banding one of his arms beneath her breasts and hauling her up. Her head rested against his shoulder and he wrapped his hand loosely around her throat. He ground his dick deep as he could, delighting in how she shuddered, her nails biting into his forearm. “I couldn’t stand anyone near you. My brother included.” He drove up in short, hard strokes. He longed to pierce her - impale her on him. He lowered his mouth to her ear, his breath warm across her temple. “I wanted you so badly. Do you know how hard I got at the sight of you after those months away? You’d grown up - the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and I wanted you for myself - wanted to fuck you blind.”
“But you didn’t,” she panted. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her lips part, her lashes flutter closed as she sank back against him - as she allowed him to use her. “I thought I was hideous to you.”
Abruptly, he withdrew himself from her again. Before she could protest, he spun her around, lifting her into his arms as he stood up. He guided her legs around his waist before walking them both to the wall. He rested his hand behind her head to cushion her skull and his eyes raked over her face - staring at her intently - desperate to make her realize.
“You were everything,” he revealed softly, rubbing his body against hers. “You were the only woman I could say I knew - really knew and, consequently, the only woman who must have understood me.” His cock was still unbearably hard and he nudged the tip against her entrance. He enjoyed the way she unfurled around him - sucking him inside her inch by inch as he fought the instinctual desire to just jam himself all the way. “I was scared,” he murmured as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I wasn’t capable of being the man you deserved then.”
“Oh,” she breathed as she grasped the hinge of his jaw, her thumb skating over his beard. “Oh.”
***
“I-I can’t move,” she moaned and Thor chuckled. They were curled up on his cape. Both of them naked and covered in dirt and orc blood and other fluids.
He spooned her, his leg thrown over hers so that she’d be locked in against him. He did not want her to draw away from him - to separate after all they had figured out. He dropped his head to nuzzle the nape of her neck before he softly bit her shoulder. He stroked her hip - the curves of her waist.
“I need a bath,” she muttered as she reached back for him. She threaded her fingers with his and shoved their hands against her chest where her heart was thankfully beating at a regular pace.
“I like you like this.”
She snorted.
“Look at you,” he coaxed - pressing himself closer. “Covered in my seed and the blood of our enemies.”
A laugh burst out of her. Thor felt as it shuddered from her back into his chest. He didn’t know what time it was. A day had passed, perhaps? He’d been inside her for most of it and she would no doubt be sore and bruised for a while. He’d been unrelenting as he ravaged her and she had returned it in kind. He could feel bite marks on his throat and there were areas of his back and ass that stung from her nails. He loved it.
“You find that funny, do you?” he asked, moving her hair aside to nip at her jaw. He wondered where Loki was; half wanting him to stay away so he could fuck her again and half-wanting him to return so he could take her somewhere nice like a bed.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged - tracing a finger through the dirt before smearing it along his forearm where all of the slits from the orc blades had vanished. “That was just so very you.”
He raised an eyebrow, pushing himself up on his elbow look down at her, catching her innocent gaze. “Is that an insult?”
She scoffed. “Hardly,” She then flashed him a startlingly bright, white-toothed grin that blinded him. “I fell in love with you because you were so very obscene.”
Thor growled, gripping the fat under her thigh to raise it so he could slide against her - pressing in just enough for her breathing to hitch.
“Obscene, eh?” He lowered his tone to something smug and rough. “I can be cruder…let’s see…do you know how fucking gorgeous you look getting spitted on my cock?”
Her eyes widened and as his fingertips brushed her folds, he could feel how hot that had made her - how wet and ready. She choked out a soft little mewl that he felt down to his toes. She was raw and swollen and chafed and he doubted that it’d be a good idea to fuck her once more. Still - he wanted it and regardless of how humbled he’d become, he still tended to get the things he wanted. Of course, only if she was willing.
“Could you go again?” he urged, rubbing his cheek against her warm, plush one. He wanted her everywhere. He wanted her inside him. Taste her. Fuck her. Split her open until she was only his as he was hers. Maybe, he’d ask her to mark him until it scarred. Bite the muscle of his throat. Open him up.
“I think,” she replied - pushing back against him, tangling their legs together.
“Mmm no - you seem unsure,” he observed thoughtfully as he rolled away before gently forcing her to lie flat. He maneuvered himself between her thighs, sitting back on his heels as he grinned down at her. She cocked her head, confused.
He pushed her legs apart, grasping under her knees and hitching them over his shoulders. He lowered his head to her cunt and licked, kissed, and sucked it until she bucked against his chin. He ate her loudly - humming his pleasure at the taste of not only her, but himself. He could do this for hours. In fact, he intended to do it until he couldn’t breathe - until he smelled of only her and -
“Thor,” she yelped, tightening her fist into his hair.
“I know, my love,” he cooed against her inner thigh - his face firmly buried. “Give me a second one.”
“Thor,” she shrieked again, her foot coming down against his lower back so violently that he grunted and sat up.
“Ow - what?” He squinted down at her, massaging the area she’d smacked.
She gestured to the giant stone that had apparently been moved to the side while he’d been face-deep in her cunt. His brother stood there - expression seemingly amused, which was no surprise. Loki was never one to act embarrassed.
“Well,” He clapped his hands together. “That worked out better than I thought.”
Title: Thunderstruck (Prompt: fake dating becomes too real)
Pairing: Dark!Thor x Female Reader
Summary: At the SHIELD NYE party, Thor jokingly claims the two of you are dating. The lie spirals out of control when people believe him, and he convinces you to keep up the charade.
Word Count: 5.5k
Warnings: // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, smut, Dark, Dub/Con, Unprotected sex (DON’T!), Fingering, Oral (M receiving) NO BETA
A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge – Day 29.. Also haven’t written for Thor before so be gentle, he’s speaking style is hard for me
The SHIELD New Year’s Eve party was an annual spectacle, an event that seemed to grow more extravagant with each passing year. Hosted, as always, at Stark Tower, the venue was a breathtaking display of Tony Stark’s penchant for flair and excess. The massive atrium gleamed with shimmering silver and gold, reflecting the twinkling lights of an oversized crystal chandelier. Every surface seemed to sparkle, from the floor polished to a mirror shine to the massive clock projected onto the far wall, counting down the minutes until midnight.
The crowd was a sea of sophistication and celebration, filled with some of the world’s most brilliant minds and powerful figures. Avengers, fellow agents, scientists, dignitaries, and an assortment of Stark’s high-profile acquaintances mingled beneath the glittering decor. Glasses of champagne sparkled in the ambient light, the clink of crystal blending seamlessly with the lively hum of conversation and bursts of laughter. It was a night of indulgence, camaraderie, and for some, strategic networking.
It was also the last place you wanted to be.
Parties weren’t your thing. Crowded rooms, loud conversations, the unspoken pressure to be sociable-it all grated on your nerves. You’d much rather have spent the evening at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching the New Year’s Eve ball drop on TV. But Natasha Romanoff had other ideas.
“Come on,” she’d said earlier that evening, standing in your apartment with her hands on her hips and a dress draped over one arm. “You’ve dodged this party for two years now. It’s time to show your face, have a little fun for once.”
“I have fun,” you’d protested weakly, clutching your favourite oversized sweater like a security blanket.
Natasha had merely smirked, shaking her head as if you were a particularly stubborn case she was determined to crack. “Sitting at home in pajamas eating takeout is not ‘fun.’ You’re coming with me. End of discussion.”
An hour later, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror in a dress that clung to your figure in ways that left you feeling vulnerable, if not outright exposed. It was sleek, elegant, and undeniably out of your comfort zone. Natasha, of course, looked effortlessly stunning in her own dress, her confidence as sharp as the blade she kept tucked in her thigh holster.
“Trust me,” she’d said, adjusting the straps of your dress and giving you an approving once-over. “You’ll thank me later.”
Now, standing by the bar with a drink in hand, you weren’t so sure. The room was alive with energy, but the glitz and glamour only heightened your discomfort. You nursed your drink, letting the cool glass anchor you as you scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Sam and Natasha were somewhere nearby, but the sheer volume of the party made it difficult to pinpoint them.
You weren’t sure what you were searching for-maybe a quiet corner to disappear into, or a conversation that didn’t feel forced. Anything to make the evening less overwhelming.
That’s when your gaze landed on him.
Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, was impossible to miss. Towering over the crowd, he moved through the room with the kind of confidence that only someone truly larger than life could possess. His perfectly tailored suit emphasized his broad shoulders and powerful build, while the golden strands of his hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, gleamed like molten sunlight in the soft glow of the chandeliers. He was laughing, his rich, booming voice cutting effortlessly through the noise as he clapped Clint Barton on the back.
You rolled your eyes. Of course Thor was here. The man was practically a walking spectacle, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. His charm was undeniable, but his intensity was something else entirely-a force of nature that could be as overwhelming as the storms he commanded.
The last thing you wanted tonight was to get caught up in his orbit.
Turning back to your drink, you tried to focus on the glass in your hand and the low hum of the music. The God of Thunder had a way of pulling everyone into his gravitational pull, and you weren’t in the mood to be swept away. A conversation with Sam and Natasha, a quick hello to the logistics team, and then you’d slip out unnoticed. That was the plan.
Thor, it seemed, had other plans.
His approach felt like a coming storm even with that grin on his face as bright as the lights above.
“M’lady,” he boomed, his voice carrying over the music. “You grace this gathering with your presence! A most pleasant surprise.”
Your returning smile barely made it past polite the grip on your glass tightening. “Thor. Enjoying yourself?”
“Indeed,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with something you’d when your father had had one too many drinks at Thanksgiving. “Though the night grows even brighter in your company.”
Natasha arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Smooth, Odinson. Very smooth.”
Sam chuckled, elbowing you lightly. “Looks like someone’s got an admirer.”
Before you could respond, Thor’s gaze turned sharp, his grin widening as though he’d just had an idea. “Aye, perhaps they do. In fact…” He turned to the small group of agents nearby who had clearly been eavesdropping, their curiosity plain on their faces. “M’Lady and I are courting.”
The words hung in the air, and you froze, your mind racing in an attempt to process what he’d just said. Courting? Was he serious?
Nat and Sam exchanged glances, their interest immediately piqued. Natasha’s smirk grew, while Sam’s laughter erupted beside you.
“Wait-what?” you spluttered, turning to Thor with wide eyes. “We’re what?”
Thor looked down at you, his expression the picture of innocence. “A jest. To ward off prying eyes and overly curious admirers.”
You glared at him, heat rising in your cheeks. “That’s not funny.”
“It is effective,” he countered smoothly, his grin never faltering. “Unless you object?”
Before you could respond, Natasha stepped in. “You know what? I like it. Makes things interesting.”
“Agreed,” Sam added with a chuckle. “Let’s see how long it takes for the rumour mill to run wild.”
“Wait what?” Your cheeks flushed red, these people were supposed to be your friends and they were just…just turning you into some sort of joke?
“Oh come on, it’ll be funny. Relax, no one is going to honestly believe it.” Part of you wasn’t sure if you should be offended by Natasha's remark or not. You stood in stunned silence as suddenly Natasha and Sam were placing bets amongst themselves about who they could convince of this whole charade while you just felt yourself shrink up inside.
By the time the clock struck eleven, the entire room seemed to know about your supposed relationship with Thor. Everywhere you went, you caught whispers and sly smiles, agents and staff alike casting curious glances your way. Natasha and Sam were doing a fantastic job of helping things along. It was infuriating-and Thor wasn’t helping.
He played the part far too well. His hand found the small of your back whenever you were in reach, something he seemed to make sure you always where. His rich laughter carrying over the crowd as he introduced you as ‘His Lady’ He brought you drinks, engaged you in conversation, and even danced with you under the glittering lights, his touch firm yet gentle as he led you across the floor.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you muttered as he spun you effortlessly, his grin never fading.
“Immensely,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “And you, my Lady, are a most excellent partner in deception.”
The words were harmless on the surface, but there was something in the way he said them, in the way his eyes held yours, that made your skin prickle. His usual warmth was still there, but beneath it lingered the quiet, unmistakable reminder of what he was-a god. Larger than life, overwhelming in both presence and charm, he exuded a kind of power that made him impossible to ignore.
“Thor,” you said softly, trying to pull back, but his hand slid to your waist, holding you steady.
“Yes, my Lady?” he replied, voice low and velvety, laced with amusement but also a weight that made your heart race. His grip was light enough not to alarm, but firm enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere unless he allowed it.
You wanted to argue, to tell him to cut it out, but the way he looked at you-those stormy eyes full of mischief, a sly curve to his lips-made it frustratingly difficult to form the words. It was still just a game, you told yourself, a bit of fun at your expense. But the intensity with which he played his part made it hard to shake the feeling that, joke or not, he was enjoying this far too much. And maybe, against your better judgment, a small, traitorous part of you was, too.
As the countdown to midnight began, the crowd pressed toward the massive clock projected onto the far wall, voices rising in anticipation. You seized the opportunity to slip away, weaving through the throng in search of refuge from the growing tension. But you barely made it a few steps before a hand caught your wrist, firm and unyielding, pulling you back.
“Leaving so soon?” Thor’s voice was low, rich, and tinged with an authority that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command attention.
You forced a lightness into your tone. “I thought I’d avoid the spectacle.”
He chuckled, a sound that rolled over you like distant thunder, his grip firm but not cruel. “Stay,” he said, his stormy blue eyes fixed on yours, an undercurrent of something almost possessive in their depths. “I cannot see the New Year without you.”
It wasn’t a request. It never was with him.
You opened your mouth to protest, but the crowd began the countdown, their voices swelling in unison. Thor’s gaze didn’t waver, the intensity of it rooting you in place, making you feel as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.
“Ten! Nine!”
The noise of the crowd faded to a distant hum as Thor stepped closer, the heat of his presence washing over you. He loomed, his broad frame both sheltering and suffocating, his hand rising to cup your cheek. His touch was deceptively gentle, his thumb brushing against your skin with unnerving familiarity.
“Eight! Seven!”
“This is a bad idea,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as you spoke, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, your body betraying you by leaning into him.
“Nonsense,” he said softly, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “I see no better idea.”
“Six! Five!”
The air seemed to thicken, the space between you vanishing as his face inched closer. His breath was warm against your lips, the promise of his kiss sending your pulse into a frantic rhythm.
“Four! Three!”
You should have stopped him. You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. The pull of him was as inevitable as the tide, a force of nature too powerful to resist.
“Two! One!”
His lips claimed yours, slow and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world to remind you of just how much power he held. The kiss was consuming, a deliberate act of dominance wrapped in warmth, and it left no room for doubt-he was in control. The room erupted into cheers, but the sound barely registered over the pounding of your heart and the way his hands anchored you to the moment, unyielding yet careful, as if daring you to move.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze lingered on yours, his expression unreadable but charged with an intensity that made it impossible to breathe. His thumb brushed your cheek.
“Happy New Year, my lady.”
“H-Happy New Year Thor.” Had the kiss really left you so breathless?
Thor’s smile widened at your stammered response, his hand lingering at your cheek for a moment longer than necessary. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes-a god who knew the effect he had on you, who thrived on it. Before you could gather your thoughts, he stepped closer, his hand slipping to your waist.
“You look pale, my Lady,” he said, his voice soft but weighted with implication. “Perhaps some air would do you well.”
His hand slid down to your wrist, his grip as unyielding as iron. Before you could protest, he was already leading you away, his towering presence parting the crowd as effortlessly as a storm cutting through the sky. The other partygoers barely spared a glance, their laughter and chatter uninterrupted. To them, this was nothing more than a natural progression of what they believed to be an established relationship.
“Thor, wait-I’m fine,” you said, trying to pull back. Your protests were futile against the sheer strength of his grip, his pace steady and unrelenting.
“Nonsense,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder with a calm, almost amused expression. “You’ve given me your company all evening. It’s only fair I offer you mine.”
His words were smooth, his tone almost teasing, but there was no mistaking the finality in them. He wasn’t giving you a choice. The halls outside the party grew quieter as he led you away from the noise, his steps purposeful. You felt your heart pounding, the reality of the situation sinking in with every passing second.
“Thor, people will talk-”
“Let them,” he interrupted, his voice a low rumble that silenced any further argument. “They already believe what they wish. It changes nothing.”
By the time you realized where he was leading you, it was too late. The door to his room loomed ahead, and with a swift motion, he opened it, pulling you inside before closing it behind him. The lock clicked, the sound loud and final in the quiet of the room.
You turned to face him, breathless and unsure, your mind racing for something-anything-to say. But Thor was already moving, his broad frame advancing on you with the same quiet confidence he’d displayed all evening. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, his strength impossible to resist.
“Do not fear, my Lady,” he murmured, his tone softer now but no less commanding. His thumb brushed over your hip, the heat of his touch bleeding through the fabric of your dress. “You are mine tonight.”
“Thor, wait-” The protest fell from your lips as his hands found your waist again, his grip firm but not bruising. His sheer presence was overwhelming, an undeniable reminder of his power, of his dominance. He loomed over you, his piercing gaze fixed on yours, as though daring you to resist.
“My Lady, you deserve so much more then to be just a silly joke.” he said softly, his voice like the distant roll of thunder. His hand moved to cup your chin, tilting your face upward. “You spent the evening by my side, all out there believe this to be-”
Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, not kissing you but letting the anticipation build, the air between you thick and charged. Your heart raced, a mixture of defiance and something darker, something you couldn’t bring yourself to name.
“Thor-this… this isn’t-”
“Shhh,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. His smile was faint, predatory. “No need for words, my Lady. Let me show you how a god worships.”
Before you could reply, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, his strength undeniable. You gasped, your hands instinctively clutching his shoulders, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he carried you further into the room, the door a forgotten barrier behind you. Your protests felt small, swallowed by the sheer force of his presence, the intensity in his gaze as he laid you down on the bed as though you belonged there.
“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a velvety growl as he traced a finger along your jawline. “Do not fret, I will not break you-”
Your cheeks burned, and you turned your head, but his hand caught your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place before the hunger returned.
His hands moved with purpose, trailing down your sides as he leaned over you, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The heat of his breath sent shivers down your spine, his kisses deliberate, claiming. Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch even as your mind screamed at you to stop this, to push him away. But he was unrelenting, his hands exploring, his lips pulling soft gasps and reluctant whimpers from your throat.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “The pull between us. You cannot deny it.”
His lips found yours again, this time deeper, more consuming. His hands roamed with a purpose that left no room for doubt-he wasn’t going to stop, and you weren’t sure you wanted him to.
Thor’s lips descended on yours again, harder this time, with the weight of a storm behind them. There was no hesitance in his actions, no room for second-guessing. His hand slid up your thigh, you wanted to protest, to push him away, but who were you to deny a god.
“Thor, please,” you whispered, though even you weren’t sure if it was a plea for him to stop or to continue.
His thumb brushed over your lower lip again, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of heat through you. The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth told you he had decided the answer. His lips found the hollow of your throat, kissing and biting gently, enough to make you gasp and arch against him.
“It’s alright-” he murmured, his voice a deep growl that sent shivers down your spine.
His fingers brushed against the edge of your underwear, a featherlight touch that made you tense beneath him. He paused, his stormy blue eyes locking onto yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. “You’re trembling again,” he said softly “So sensitive.”
You couldn’t answer; your voice had abandoned you. Thor didn’t wait for a response, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, finding your heat with an ease that made your breath hitch. He explored you with deliberate slowness, his touch skilled and confident, as though he had all the time in the world to unravel you.
“Do you see now?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Even Gods are gentle.”
Your protests, feeble and half-hearted, were swallowed by the overwhelming intensity of his actions. His fingers moved expertly, drawing soft gasps and whimpers from you despite your attempts to stifle them. The tension in the room thickened, his dominance palpable as he claimed every inch of your focus, leaving no room for thought, no space to resist.
When he finally withdrew, his hand moved to his belt, the sound of the buckle unfastening sharp in the quiet room. His gaze never left yours, and the weight of it pinned you in place, making your breath catch as he bared himself before you.
“I will show you what you deserve,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “And you will thank me for it.”
Thor’s hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed as he positioned himself, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you no time to process, no room to escape.
You couldn’t even remember him telling you to open your mouth as you felt him push past your lips his length filled your mouth, the head of his arousal brushing against the back of your throat. You felt a surge of panic, your body instinctively trying to pull back, but his hands gripped your shoulders, holding you in place.
“No, no- stay for me.” His eyes burned with intensity, watching you as he slowly began to move, his hips rocking back and forth.
The sensation was overwhelming, his length stretching your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You felt a gag reflex rising, but he seemed to sense it, his movements slowing, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned in closer, his voice a low growl,
"You will learn, just relax, breath deep.” His words of coaching praise filling the while his hands moved, one releasing your shoulder to grasp your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat. Thors’s eyes flashed with hunger as he began to move again, his thrusts slow and deliberate, filling your mouth with each stroke. You felt your body responding, your lips and tongue working to accommodate him, your throat relaxing to take him deeper, tears pricking at your eyes.
“That’s it, good girl.”
The sound of his breathing filled the air, his groans low and husky, as he moved, his hips rocking back and forth. His eyes never left yours, burning with intensity, as he claimed your mouth, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, your body responding to his touch, as he took you, surly it was the champagne going to your head and not the act of being used like this that made your pussy soak the fabric between legs.
It had to be? Not the way texture of his skin smooth felt, the taste of him salty and musky seemed to make your head spin. The Gods veins pulsing against your tongue, his arousal throbbing with each beat of his heart and it seemed to match the way your own cunt now throbbed. His hands held you in place, his grip firm but not bruising, as he moved, his thrusts slow and deliberate, filling your mouth with each stroke.
As he moved, his tip hit the back of your throat, sending a surge of pleasure through your body. You felt your lips and tongue working to accommodate him, your throat relaxing to take him deeper. His eyes flashed with hunger, his gaze burning with intensity, as he claimed your mouth, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
Suddenly, he pulled out, his length slipping from your lips, leaving you gasping for air. His eyes never left yours, burning with intensity, as his hand brushed through your hair and stroked your neck, "Not yet, my sweet lady..” His finger played with the straps of your dress, a you felt a shiver run down your spine. “I think it’s time this found my floor.”
Your hands didn’t move fast enough as he waited for you to comply. "Take it off," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I want to see you."
Slowly reached up, your hands grasping the straps, and slid them down your shoulders. The dress fell away, moving so it the fabric was left in a pool on the floor.
Thor's gaze roamed over your body, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He seemed to savor every curve, every contour, his eyes burning with hunger, no one looked at you like that. As he took you, he began to strip, his movements slow and deliberate. Removing his already unfastened pants, letting them fall to the floor, and then reached up, pulling his shirt over his head.
You couldn't help but stare at him, his body a masterpiece of muscle and strength. His chest was broad, his shoulders wide, and his abdomen rippled with definition. His arousal jutting out from his body still wet in places from your mouth. He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to grasp your hips. His fingers slid under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down, leaving you as naked as him. While his face expression nothing but adoration, you had never felt so vulnerable, so small.
His hands moved, one grasping your hip, holding you in place, while the other slid down, his fingers brushing against your core. You felt a jolt of pleasure, your body responding to his touch, as he slid a thick finger inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
“That’s it, relax.”
He added another finger, his touch deliberate, stretching you open. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, your body responding to his touch, but even like this you felt overwhelming. his movements slow and deliberate. His fingers moved, preparing you for him, pushing against your walls, as he watched you taking in your face as blood rushed to your cheeks as he went to add a third.
“Thor, I-this is too much-”
“Too much? I have barely begun, my Lady. And you will take all of it. You are not used to such worship that is all. You do not need to run from pleasure.”
He pressed his lips into your swallowing the whimper as he made his third digit slid in with the others, the sting around your entrance almost enough to cause tears. You wanted to protest but it was lost again when his thumb brushed against your clit, sending a surge of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself arching into his touch, your hips rising to meet his hand now, as he stretched you open. Thor pulling back a pleased smile on his face at your response to him.
“See? Eager for it now aren’t you?” His thumb pressed harder again taking the ach away his fingers caused.
Thor’s pleased smile deepened as he watched you writhe beneath him, his thumb circling your clit with calculated precision. The tears threatening to spill from your eyes didn’t seem to bother him-in fact, they only seemed to encourage him. His other hand rested possessively on your hip, holding you in place as he continued his deliberate assault on your senses.
“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice low and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “How perfectly your body mold’s to my touch. I will teach you to cherish it.”
His thumb pressed harder against your clit, the pleasure blurring the edges of your thoughts and stealing the words from your lips. His fingers worked inside you, stretching and teasing, coaxing your body to open for him even as the sting lingered. The wetness coming from you now seemed to please him more.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a rumble of satisfaction. “I will worship you here and you will give me yourself in return.”
You shivered at his words, a mix of defiance and submission warring within you. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me, do you feel it? The way your body craves what only I can give you? There’s no shame in surrendering to a god. I’ve seen how you all look at me. I will make more then the joke they all thought you to be.”
You couldn’t form a response, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as your hips moved against his hand, chasing the relief his touch promised. He smile widening, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.
“You’re ready...” Withdrawing his fingers suddenly and leaving you gasping at the emptiness. “And you’ll take me beautifully.”
Before you could process his words, Thor shifted, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider. The weight of his arousal pressed against your entrance, hot and unyielding, as he positioned himself.
“Thor-wait, I-” The words came out in a rush, but he silenced you with a kiss, his lips demanding and consuming.
The stretch was immediate and overwhelming as he entered, your body fighting to adjust to his sheer size. The sharp sting from his fingers was nothing to this, yet you could not deny that under all the sharp pain pleasure thrummed.
“Thor-” you gasped against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and soothing as he stilled for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust. “Feel me, little one. All of me. Do not fight it-you are made to take this, I know you can.”
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to breathe through the intensity, but Thor’s hands never faltered, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips as though he was calming a restless storm. “Good,” he rumbled, his tone almost reverent. “You’re doing so well. Let yourself feel it. Accept it.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. You whimpered in response, unsure if the sound came from the lingering ache or the undeniable pull of his presence. He began to move, slow and deliberate, his body pressing deeper into yours with each measured thrust. Every inch of him demanded your focus, filling you so completely that it left no room for thought, no space to question.
“I-Thor, I-” The words dissolved into a gasp as he shifted, his angle driving deeper, sparking a wave of sensation that stole the air from your lungs.
“Shhh,” he soothed, his hand sliding up your body to cup your jaw. “You don’t need words, my Lady. Let your body speak for you.”
He claimed you with an unrelenting rhythm, his movements slow and controlled, as though he was savoring every second. His free hand trailed down to your clit, his thumb brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just enough pressure to send sparks shooting through your body. Your hips bucked against him involuntarily, a soft cry escaping your lips.
“See?” he murmured, his voice a low growl of approval. “Your body knows, trust yourself.”
The praise was intoxicating, and despite yourself, you felt your walls clenching around him, your body betraying the conflict in your mind. Thor’s smile deepened, his dominance radiating in every deliberate thrust.
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and overwhelming, a contradiction that left you breathless. His pace quickened slightly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the pleasure building with an intensity that threatened to consume you entirely.
You started to get lost in the feeling now, his strength was undeniable, as his hips pushed up and into you. His commanding dominance absolute, outside that room ceased to exist. It was only him-his touch, his voice, his overwhelming presence-consuming you entirely.
Thor’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he anchored you in place, each thrust deliberate and unrelenting. His movements left no room for resistance, no space to think beyond the way he filled you, the way he moved against you with a precision that made your body betray every doubt you had.
“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very core. “The way your body bends to me, yields to me..”
You couldn’t answer, your breaths coming in ragged tight pants as his pace intensified, the sound of his skin meeting yours filling the room. Your body felt as though it was on fire, every nerve alive under his touch, your felt every vein drag against slick velvet walls. Every move from him sparked new sensation, this was what it was to be taken by a God.
“Thor,” you gasped, his name slipping from your lips.
“That’s it,” he said, his tone shifting into something almost tender, though it was lust clouding though normally clear blue eyes of his. “Say my name.”
The circling on your clit just enough to make your hips buck involuntarily against him. He growled softly, his hand sliding up your body to press against your stomach, holding you firmly in place as he drove deeper. God you felt him in your stomach as he tip nudged against your cervix.
The room felt smaller, hotter, his presence overwhelming every corner as he pulled you closer to the edge. Your cunt tightens around him, the pleasure building to a point that left you gasping for air, your mind spinning as he continued to push you further. The intensity of it was almost too much, yet not enough, your body caught in a storm you couldn’t escape-and didn’t want to.
His thumb pressing harder against your clit as his thrusts grew more forceful, more deliberate. “Do not fight it. I feel you, so tight for me, so wet.”
His words broke something inside you, the final push that sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, a cry escaping your lips as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling and gasping beneath him. Thor didn’t stop, his pace unrelenting as he chased his own release, his growls deepening, the sound raw and primal.
When he finally reached his peak, he buried himself fully, his body stiffening as a guttural groan tore from his throat. His hands gripped you tightly you knew your bruise. The room fell silent save for the sound of your ragged breaths and his low murmurs of satisfaction. His weight pressed against you, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers brushed against your cheek. “You see now, my Lady,” he said softly, his voice dark but strangely soothing. “You are not joke to me, I meant it when I declared you mine.”
When Thor overhears one of your songs and becomes confused about its meaning, you have to show him what it means- it’s the right thing to do
Warnings: implied smut, the usual Thor cluelessness, fluff, little bit of nudity
WC: 455
Minors DNI
Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library
3000 Follower Celebration
Girl’s night was sacred. It was the one night a month where you and the rest of the girls in the Avengers plus Maria and Pepper, go out on Tony’s money and get royally fucked up while shit-talking the dumb men in your lives.
Music blasted from your speakers as you danced around your room in your underwear, singing along. Your bedroom door opened suddenly and a blond head popped through while you were belting out a very passionate rendition of one particular country song that got you in the mood to party.
“Dove?” Thor’s powerful voice easily carried over the music, startling you.
“Jesus Christ!” You yelped, whipping around to face your best friend, not bothering to try and cover up. “Thor, how many times have I told you to knock.” You turned down your music to a more appropriate level. He just shrugged and took that as a signal to enter your room, shutting the door behind him.
“I did knock, the melodies you were playing were very loud and must have covered it.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’m sure. Was there something you wanted or do you just make it a habit of walking into a lady’s room when she isn’t dressed?” Turning from him, you grab the jeans that you were wearing out tonight.
“What does ‘save a cowboy’ mean?” Your brows drew together in confusion before you laughed.
“It’s not ‘save a cowboy’ it’s ‘save a horse’. Y’a know, ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’.” You stepped into the tight jeans and pulled them up your legs, giving a little hop to get the denim over your ass.
“Why would you ride a cowboy? It seems very inefficient. It would make more sense to have a steed or a large cat.” Thor seemed genuinely confused and borderline upset over the misunderstanding. You quickly abandoned the rest of your clothes in favour of comforting your best friend.
“It’s a metaphor for sex.” You said plainly, knowing from past experiences that you had to be direct with the god. Yet his lips were still downturned and his blue eyes dulled with confusion. You sighed heavily through your nose.
Then an idea struck you. A glance at the clock told you that you had a little over an hour before you had to meet with the girls. “Fuck it.” You shoved Thor with all your might and he fell back onto your bed, landing on the mattress with an ‘oof’.
You shimmied back out of your jeans and straddled the god. His hands immediately came to rest on your wide hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “How about a demonstration?”
The girls wouldn’t mind if you were a little late.
Summary: When the choice to try something new guides reader to the gym she has no idea what future awaits here...
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, explicit language, mentions of oral (f), hints of poly
A/N: *gasp* A Thor fic?! Yes I know, very different for me but I'm challenging myself! I hope you all enjoy it and want more Like, comment, & reblog! ♥
I do not consent to my work being copied, plagiarized, or translated in any way >:P
Tiny droplets of the crying sky showered the windshield as you made it through the busy LA streets. Your eyes dart left, right, even peering through the rearview mirror before placing your eyes back on the road in front of you. No matter the amount of rain, all the drivers seemed to have acted as if it were their first time on the road. The slightest swerve from any car made goosebumps prickle your skin.
You hated driving in the rain. Hated it so much that you tried to avoid it as much as possible, or have Neil take you where you needed to go — which he declined almost all the time. If it didn’t have anything to do with him, he didn’t see the need for him to chauffeur you around.
“You’re a big girl. You don’t need me…” he would say lazily as he trudged back upstairs to converse with strangers he owed not a second to. As the years of your marriage crept by, the concern he had for you grew less and less.
Which is why you decided to try this new venture all by yourself. Going to the gym wasn’t new to you but you thought that if you lost a few pounds of the marriage weight and toned up, that maybe, just maybe, Neil would take a first and a second look at you. But it seemed he was more interested in his job, games, and occasional women than you.
It hurt in the beginning, being put second. But each hurtful moment just made your skin thicker and your feelings nonexistent. An exit out of your marriage was weighing heavily on you and, shamefully, you could admit that you had thought about darting towards that exit more than once.
You thought about your failing marriage and all that would come if you decided to choose yourself just this once. How your family would feel and what they would think of you for ending a marriage that might have worked out.
But when it came down to it… you were unhappy. The only thing that made you even crack a smile was the success at your job, and being one of the top performers there. With each promotion, your heart soared. Only for it to be broken the minute that you would tell Neil.
He had a way of making your accomplishments an insult to his lackluster career and would even choose to sulk than congratulating you. One thing about you — stagnation was out of the question. You were either going to end this marriage as it was or try your hardest to bring the spark back. Even if Neil wasn’t the least bit interested in putting in the effort.
Here you stand outside of the gym, clutching the nylon strap over your shoulder as you take a deep breath and pull open the door. The cool air of the industrial air conditioning system hits you in the face like a strong breeze. It felt welcoming and the air lingered with a faint citrus smell.
You were met with the front desk, the top of it decked in marble, and the gold lettering in front of it beamed like no other. A woman flipped through the New Asgard Monthly Magazine behind it, peeking over the current issue as you approached. She calmly placed it down and motioned for you to come closer.
She had a warm smile that could go either way but you were determined to get this introduction over with so that you could start your new journey. With another deep breath taken, you stroll to the front desk, unzipping your duffel bag to present your wallet, in case you needed to present any identification.
The woman studied you for a moment, giving you a once over before she began to speak, “Welcome to Valhalla Fitness, I am Eleni. Do you have a membership?” she smiled softly, giving you time to speak as she leaned further forward in her seat.
You cleared your throat, adjusting the strap over your shoulder again, “N-no. I don’t. It’s one of the reasons why I’m here. I’d like to get one today if that’s possible,” it was if you were a little kid asking permission to sit at the lunch table with the cool kids. Every fiber of your being vibrated with heightened nerves as you stood.
You couldn’t put your finger on it. But it seemed as if Eleni could see right through you or knew a secret about you that you didn’t even know. Either way, your anxiety finally settled when Eleni made a sound of glee, clapping her hands together before beginning to type on the screen in front of her.
—
The tall figure rose from his seat, stretching his legs as he lazily made his way toward the open window. It showcased his newest investment, Valhalla Fitness. He scanned the crowd of gym goers, his eyes darting between the patrons putting in ample work, and those who were only there to look like they were exercising.
His schedule was the same seven days a week; not that he minded in the slightest bit. Being one of Earth’s mightiest defender for a decade, earned him a well-needed retirement. One that he had no problem taking as he searched for new ventures to dive into.
He inspected the spacious gym once again, an unfamiliar sight stopping him in his tracks as he squinted down at the front desk. Deciding he had to have a closer look, he took his tablet in one hand and opened up the app for the security cameras. He selected the one behind the reception desk, aimed directly at the woman smiling gratefully at Eleni.
His curiosity got the best of him as he zoomed in, taking in the every dip and curve of your body that in his opinion didn't need working on. Just like Eleni, his eyes stayed on you in a less innocent way than hers, paying attention to the spread of you lips as you smiled or the way you shifted ever so slightly as you listened to Eleni. His tongue slid over the plump of his bottom lip, watching as you mouthed of information, causing Eleni to type in every word.
How he wished he could hear how you sounded.
“You’re staring, Thor. You never stare,” a sultry voice rang out behind him, but it did not not deter him from keeping his eyes on you.
“I stare. When things or people are worthy of catching my eye. You should know that dear wife.”
A chuckle falls from her lips as a throaty moan escapes it a second later, “Yes, I know that look all too well. I used to be the cause of it,” she purrs, returning her attention back to the man feasting between her legs.
The sight of was nothing new for Thor. They had been married for centuries, bound together by arrangement rather than love. But from outside, people would never know or even hear anything more than the Mighty Thor and Valkyrie being madly in love with each other.
In Thor’s experience, people married for centuries developed certain tastes– and they weren't always for each other, as many would hope. A man or woman feasting on Thor’s wife was just another day for him. He had granted her wishes long ago as, Valkyrie did the same.
Though they never shared their bed with others — hotels were a very different story.
Thor’s eyes remained trained on the camera, noting every smile or laugh.. Even the small tick in your eyebrow when it looked like you were asking a question. You were art and he wanted to get a closer look at his new visitor.
He was all about making everyone at the fitness center feel welcome; and for you, he’d give you more than one tour if you asked him for it. Thor watched as Eleni passed over the welcome packet over to you, watching you punch in your new code as you walked past.
Thor straightened his back, turning the tablet off and fixing his shirt. He strolled over to the door, craning his neck as he called up the stairs, “I’ll go greet our new customer. I’m sure you’ll be here for a while. Clean up after you’re done with the poor man. He’s been savoring your nectar for hours.”
“Hm, the nectar of an Asgardian is always addicting, my love. Maybe you’ll have some later?” Valkyrie croons over at him.
“Don’t count on it, my dear. I’m sure you’ll be drunk with Asgardian mead by the time I’m done.”
“You know me so well… Almost as if we were-”
The door opened and shut before she could even finish her sentence.
Thor trudged down the stairs with purpose in every step. The closer he got to you, the more his loins warmed with fire. He had to hear you, your scent already caressing his nose like smell of a newly made weapon.
He saw the uncertainty in your eyes as you were trying to decide which machine to use, biting at your lip furiously. It never dawned on you that someone was edging closer. The moment his voice filtered into your ears, you looked up, stopping your search on which device you would try first..
He extended his hand towards you as your name formed on his tongue. The softness of your hand compared to the callous surface of his only but made him want you more. To him you felt like nothing that belonged on this Earth. With you in his close proximity, the light vanilla scent caressed his nose as he easily towered over you.
“Welcome to Valhalla Fitness. I am Thor, one of the owners of this fine establishment. I see you’ve gotten the welcome packet from Eleni. I would love to give you a proper tour of our facility, if you would like.”
The deep velvet coming from his mouth was all you needed to shake his hand and accept his tour invitation…
A/N: ‘just the tip’ Thor – Starting to notice a little bit of a ‘theme’ with my Thor stories..
The scent of sacred oils still clung to your skin, lingering between the strands of your freshly washed hair as Thor’s large hands glided over you, his touch reverent, tender. The ceremonial dress lay discarded on the floor, its delicate fabrics a whisper of tradition now shed in the intimacy of your shared chambers. He had been so gentle with you, bathing you with hands that could command thunder and lightning, yet, he treated you as though you were spun of fragile silk. Murmuring soft assurances as he poured warm water over your shoulders, washing away the last remnants of the evening’s rituals. His fingers had combed through your hair, working fragrant oils into your scalp before rinsing them away, his touch a stark contrast to the power he wielded in battle. Every action was deliberate, a careful unravelling of the ceremonial layers until nothing remained but the woman he was to claim.
But now, standing before him in nothing but the flickering candlelight, your breath caught as he shed the last of his own garments. The air shifted between you, thick with something unspoken, something inevitable.
He was a god. A warrior. A king in waiting.
Broad shoulders and a chest carved with divine strength, his thighs thick and powerful- the very ones you had perched on throughout the feast, his palm steady on your waist, possessive but warm. Now, with the revelry behind you and the weight of expectation settling in the quiet of your chambers, he stood before you, fully bare. His presence dominated the room, towering and unyielding, yet his hands, when they touched you, were careful, reverent. And now, with nothing between you, your eyes dipped lower, and you felt the sharp bite of panic in your chest.
The sheer size of him- the weapon that hung heavily between his legs- left your innocence trembling beneath the weight of reality. Your mouth parted, something close to a whimper escaping before you could stop it. He was overwhelming in every way, and the thought of taking him, of being his in the way tradition demanded, sent a mix of desire and trepidation spiraling through you. Heat coiled in your belly, warring with the nerves that had your thighs pressing together.
“Sweet one,” Thor murmured, his knuckles brushing along your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Those oceanic blue eyes softened with understanding, though beneath his tenderness, there lay something desperate, something restrained. “I do not wish to rush you, but…” He exhaled, pressing a slow kiss to your temple. “A marriage must be consummated.”
A shiver ran through you, nerves tangled with want. He had been nothing but patient, but now he had you beneath him, breathless and shaking. His lips found your forehead,
"We only need to go just a little, enough for me to claim your maidenhood." His voice a gentle purr as he kissed your cheeks, your throat. Murmured praises against your skin, a steady litany of devotion and reassurance.
“My sweet flower,” he hummed, tracing his fingers down your bare spine. “My little petal.”
His weight caged you, yet you never felt trapped. He settled between your parted thighs, one hand gripping his thick length, the other smoothing down your side in soothing strokes. His calloused fingertips danced along your ribs, his warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you in the moment. His thumb brushed over the swell of your breast, slow and deliberate, coaxing the tension from your body.
“This will hurt,” he whispered. “But only for a moment.”
The broad tip pressed against your entrance, slick from his attentions, yet still so unprepared for something of his size. He kissed you deeply as he pushed forward, just enough to breach that delicate barrier. The stretch was sharp, foreign, and you whimpered against his lips, hands clutching at his broad shoulders, your legs instinctively trying to close, only to press against the firm muscle of his powerful thighs. The realization sent a fresh wave of helplessness through you- there was no escaping the size of him. Thor stilled for a moment, giving you time, but you could feel him trembling with restraint, his body coiled tight above you.
You had done your duty. Had let him take what was required. The pain was still sharp, but the act was complete. It should have ended here- a moment of pain, a brief claim, nothing more. You squirmed beneath him, your breathing quick and uneven, your heart pounding against your ribs. Each shift of your hips sent another pulse of sensation through you- even this small intrusion stretched you in a way that you could barely take. Your pulse thrummed in your ears. Your body pulsed around him, tight and unfamiliar, creeping embers of something else- something overwhelming, something too much. He would move soon, pull back any moment now.
“T-Thor?” Your voice wavered, barely more than a breath, uncertain. A plea, an expectation, waiting for him to retreat.
He didn’t.
Thor kept going.
His breath hitched, a low groan spilling from his lips as he pushed deeper. You whimpered, hands flying to his arms, nails biting into his unyielding flesh. You tried to shift away, to alleviate the burning stretch, but his hands on your hips held you still. He was too strong, too solid, and you were utterly trapped beneath him.
Your confusion twisted into panic, a choked sob escaping before you could swallow it down. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had said only a little- only enough to make you his.
“Shhh, sweet one,” he murmured, voice warm but heavy with something darker, something raw. “Just a little more. You can take it- I know you can.” You choked on the small, helpless sob that left you. This wasn't supposed to be happening. He had said you only had to go so far.
It was sweet agony. The burn of being stretched open, the way his girth invaded you inch by inch. He whispered to you through it all, lips pressing against your damp cheeks, kissing away the tears that slipped from the corners of your eyes. His hips rolled in careful, measured motions, easing the pain, coaxing your body to relax.
“It’s alright, it always hurts at first,” he soothed, voice tender yet dripping with something darker, something primal. “You’re so strong, my love. Soon the pain will be forgotten.”
His hips rolled again in slow, shallow circles, coaxing your body to yield to him, to accept the unbearable fullness of being taken for the first time. The heat between you grew, the press of his heavy body against yours grounding you as you whimpered and arched beneath him. His hands were everywhere- stroking, petting, kneading as though he could soothe the ache even as he deepened it. He kissed along your jaw, his lips dragging against the sweat-slick skin of your throat.
“You’ll make me proud.”
Thor’s forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm, his body impossibly hard against your softer curves. His weight surrounded you, his scent- wood smoke, spice, something purely him- invading your senses. He was inside you, fully seated, and you swore you felt your body give way to him, trembling in overwhelmed bliss.
The realization of what you had taken, of what was now fully inside you, sent a sharp pulse of pleasure through your core, tipping you into something raw, something overwhelming. It was too much- the mix of pain and pleasure, the way his thick, rigid length stretched you beyond what you thought possible. Your breath hitched, a sob catching in your throat as your walls spasmed around him, your body caught in the first unbearable waves of pleasure. The tight grip of your core around him, the pulsing squeeze of your walls, had him growling, a deep, primal sound that sent another rush of heat through you.
You gasped, the heat rolling through you, consuming you from the inside out. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails biting into his shoulders as the sensation crested, stealing your breath. The thought of having him entirely, of how deeply he filled you, how his sheer size claimed you, only made the feeling stronger, more potent.
Thor groaned, deep and guttural, as he felt you clench around him, his own control fraying at the edges. His large hands cradled your face, his thumbs stroking over your tear-streaked cheeks, and through his own labored breaths, he whispered,
Summary: He was your grumpy trainer, a handler to help you keep your newly discovered powers at bay. You were hopelessly in love with him yet you knew he couldn't look at you that way. Oh, how wrong you turned out to be.
Content: Grumpy and Sunshine Dynamic, Angst, King Thor, Infinity War-Endgame Thor, Yearning, Tension, Possessive Thor, Jealous Thor, OBSESSED Thor, Jealous Reader, Age Gap (Thor is a god hello), A Lot Of Bad Jokes, Reader Is Annoying Him, Reader In Her Early To Late 20's (you could interpret it as older, I do not specify her age but she definitely has so much energy), Explicit SMUT At The End. (Note: My first language is not English.)
Word Count: 32k (Basically a novella guys)
Minors Do Not Interact
—
You sat on a rolling stool, slowly swinging your legs, while a robotic arm scanned your vitals. Every time you got excited, purple sparks jumped from your ponytail, making the nearby monitors glitch.
“So, let me get this straight,” you said, leaning forward to peek at Tony Stark’s holographic displays. “I’m not dying? I’m just spicy now?”
Tony didn't look up from his tablet, but his brow was furrowed in that way that meant he was doing math that would make your head explode. “You’re not spicy, kid. You’re a biological anomaly. And the opposite. You can’t die. When the Stones did their thing, you caught a stray wave of gamma and astral radiation. Most people turned to dust, you turned into an immortal high-voltage capacitor.”
“So I'm an Avenger? Do I get a suit? I was thinking something with pockets. Real pockets, not those fake ones they put on women's jeans.”
Tony finally looked at you, giving you a dry, pitying stare. “You get a handler. You’ve had these powers for forty-eight hours, and you’ve already accidentally melted your neighbor's refrigerator. You need a tutor.”
“Is it Captain America? I’d be okay with that. He seems like he gives great ‘I'm disappointed in you’ speeches.”
“No,” Tony muttered, heading for the door. “Steve is too nice. You’d eat him alive. You need someone who can actually withstand a direct hit from you. Follow me.”
The elevator opened, and you practically bounced out. You were terrified, sure, but the adrenaline of being in the actual Avengers Compound was winning.
Then, you saw him.
Thor was standing by the window. He wasn't wearing the regal armor or the flowing cape. He was in a dark, tactical shirt that strained against his shoulders, his short hair making him look like a rugged, battle-worn mercenary. He looked like he carried the weight of the entire universe on his back. Oh, he was so hot.
Your heart started thudding against your ribs.
He turned around, his gaze landing on you. For a split second, the air left his lungs.
He saw the way the violet light swirled in your eyes—it looked like the nebulas he used to fly through with his brother. He thought you were stunning, a rare flash of vibrant life in a world that had gone dark.
Then, you opened your mouth.
You just had to open your mouth didn’t you?
“Hold on,” you said, eyes narrowed. “You’re the God of Thunder? I thought you’d be— I don't know, older now? Like, beard-to-the-floor, wizard-hat older. But you’re actually still kind of a babe. A very grumpy, scarred babe.”
Thor blinked. The celestial beauty image in his mind cracked and fell apart instantly. “A... babe?”
“Yeah! And the eye! Is it glass? Can I see it? Does it pop out?” You walked right into his personal space, peering up at him like he was a science project. “Tony says I’m assigned to you. I do the purple sparks. You do the blue ones. We’re like a matching set! Though, I heard you missed the head on the big bad. Don't worry, I’m great at aiming. I once won a giant teddy bear at a carnival by hitting a moving target. I can totally teach you.”
Thor’s jaw tightened. He looked over your head at Tony, his face a mask of pure, mounting horror. “Stark. What is this? Why is this mortal child speaking to me about carnivals and my aim?”
“Hey! I am not a mortal anymore, nor am I a child. I'm a whole ass adult!” you said looking at both of them. First Tony calls you kid, and now Thor calls you a child.
You have noticed a pattern here. Good for you.
“She’s your problem now, Point Break,” Tony called out, retreating back into the elevator. “She’s a human energy-well. You're the only one who won't turn into a charcoal briquette during her training. Enjoy the youth!”
The doors closed. You beamed up at Thor, your fingers sparking with a happy violet light. “So! Training! Do we start with the sparks, or do we start with the workout? Because I have to tell you, I haven't done a sit-up since 2019 and I don't plan on starting now.”
Thor looked at your bright, grinning face, then up at the ceiling, his hand tightening on the handle of Stormbreaker. He was 1,500 years old, he had fought dragons, he had faced Thanos. And yet, he had never felt more defeated.
“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, the word a low rumble of thunder.
“Was that a yes to no sit-ups?!” you cheered. “You're already the best teacher ever!”
Thor didn't answer, he merely turned and began marching toward the gym, his cape—which he had summoned just to feel more like a King—billowing behind him in an angry, red cloud.
“Wait for me, Thunder Bolt!” you yelled, running after him.
“Seven AM tomorrow,” he barked over his shoulder. “If you speak before the sun is fully up, I will throw you into the Hudson.”
“Is that a promise? Because I can't drown now, so that sounds like a fun Saturday!” you yelled back, stopping in your tracks.
Thor’s pace doubled. He didn't look back.
You stood in the hallway, watching his broad shoulders disappear around the corner. You were grinning, but deep down, a little knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach.
He hated you, didn't he? Or at least, he found you as pleasant as a persistent toothache.
You were just a job to him—a loud, sparkly, annoying Midgardian job.
—
The next morning, the panic hit before the memories did. You bolted upright, your hair a tangled static-charged mess that looked like you’d stuck your finger in a socket. Your chest heaved as you looked at the sterile, high-tech walls of the room.
Where the fuck am I?, you thought as you scrambled out of bed, heart hammering against your ribs, and lunged for the door.
Then, you stopped. The cool touch of the metal handle grounded you. The Compound. The Avengers. The Sparks.
“Oh,” you breathed, a deep, shaky sigh of relief escaping your lungs. You weren't in your tiny, blown-up apartment anymore. This was your life now. You weren't just a girl who got lucky, your DNA had been rewritten into something immortal and unbreakable.
You spent the next twenty minutes trying to look like you could handle the power of a star.
How does one look like that anyway?
You pulled on your black leggings and a skin-tight t-shirt that hugged your frame, the fabric stretching over the faint, violet veins of energy that pulsed near your collarbone.
When you walked into the common area, the scent of expensive coffee and cedarwood hit you.
And then, you caught sight of him. Thor was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a simple grey hoodie that made him look human and dangerously approachable. He was staring at a tablet, his rugged, handsome face illuminated by the screen's glow.
He looked so beautiful it actually hurt.
You stood there for a second, your breath catching in your throat, feeling like the air had been sucked out of the room.
Get it together, you scolded yourself. He thinks you're a nuisance. Don't let him see you melt, act normal.
“Good morning, Thunder-Thighs!” you called out, your voice a little too loud, a little too bright, masking the fact that your heart was doing backflips.
Yeah, so much for acting normal. Idiot.
You couldn’t help it okay? You rambled when you were nervous and he made you really nervous.
He just looked sideways at you, his gaze lingering on your messy hair for a fraction of a second before he turned back to his cup. “Good morning, Little One,” he mumbled into his coffee.
Your brows furrowed. “Little One?” you repeated, stepping closer. “Is that the new nickname? Because like I told you before, I am an adult, thank you very much.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips—just a tiny, fleeting flicker—as he looked up at you. It was the first time he’d looked at you without immediate exasperation. “You are so much younger and smaller than me, aren't you?”
Your heart skipped a beat. Your breath hitched. You were standing close enough to see the stubble on his jaw and the way the grey fabric of his hoodie stretched over his chest.
“I'm compact,” you squeaked, your face heating up. “Highly concentrated energy. Like a—like a shot of espresso. Smaller than you but lethal.” Thor let out a low, huffing sound that might have been a laugh.
Then you added, “And I’ll outlive most things.”
Thor’s expression shifted, a shadow of something heavy crossing his eyes. He knew you were like him now—someone who would watch the years pass while others faded.
How could this be?, he wondered. How were you going to handle losing everyone around when the time came? He didn’t want you losing your spark, he couldn’t bear the thought of it, but you would eventually. And that was something he didn’t want to witness. Ever.
He stood up, towering over you, the scale of him reminding you that he was a celestial being and you were just a girl with a sudden power-up.
“The espresso is twenty minutes late for training,” he rumbled, his tone shifting back to that cold distance. The smile was gone. The wall was back up. “Eat your breakfast. The mat does not wait.”
You finished your breakfast in record time, shoving the last bite of toast down as you sprinted toward the training wing. Your pulse was already racing, a frantic staccato that had nothing to do with the cardio and everything to do with the man waiting for you behind those reinforced doors.
When you entered, Thor was already there, shedding his grey hoodie to reveal a black compression shirt that clung to his muscles like a second skin. He didn't need to look at you, he could likely feel the chaotic hum of your energy the moment you crossed the threshold.
“You're late,” he rumbled, his back to you. “Later than twenty minutes.”
“I was savoring the jam. It’s a delicate process, Thor. You can't rush art,” you chirped, though your voice felt thin. You stepped onto the mat, the silence of the room suddenly feeling very small, very intimate. “So, what’s the plan? Are we doing the floaty-sparky thing you do or are you gonna show me how to throw a punch without breaking my own thumb?”
Thor turned slowly. His expression was a fortress of indifference, but his eyes—those stormy, ancient eyes—lingered on the pulse point of your neck. “Stance first,” he commanded. “If the foundation is weak, the house falls. Feet shoulder-width apart. Arms up.”
You obeyed, trying to look like a warrior and failing miserably as you wobbled. “Like this? I feel like a very aggressive penguin.”
He stepped toward you. The distance between you vanished in three heavy, deliberate strides.
He reached out then, moving behind you, his massive frame looming like a shadow that promised both protection and ruin. You felt the heat of him before you felt his touch—a wall of radiation that made the fine hairs on your arms stand up. His hands settled on your waist to square your hips.
Your breath hitched, a sharp sound in the quiet gym.
He’s burning me, you thought, your mind spinning into a haze. His touch was a brand, a searing imprint that seemed to sink through your leggings and into your very bones.
Thor’s fingers lingered, his grip firm yet strangely careful, as if he were trying to steady a fluttering bird. He leaned down, his chest brushing against your back, his voice a low, gravelly vibration right against your ear. “Keep your weight on the balls of your feet. Do not lean back.”
How am I supposed to lean anywhere but toward you? you screamed internally.
“Right. Balls of feet. No leaning. Got it,” you squeaked. Your skin was flaming wherever he touched you. To distract yourself from the way your heart was trying to escape your chest, you leaned into the annoyance. “You know, you're really getting into the personal space zone. Is this part of the Asgardian curriculum? ‘Introduction to Close-Contact Brooding’?”
Thor stiffened. From your position, you couldn't see his face, but you could hear the shift in his breathing. He moved his hands from your waist to your arms, sliding them up to your elbows to lift them higher.
He was so fucked.
As he stood there, his chest pressed to your shoulder blades, the scent of you filled his senses. He closed his eyes for a treacherous second, inhaling deeply.
You were the most annoying woman he had ever encountered—a chattering, bright, chaotic light in his gray world—wrapped in the body of a goddess carved from his darkest, most secret fantasies.
She’s a torture device, he decided. A weapon specifically forged by the Norns to ensure his downfall. And you were so young. A blink of an eye in his long life. It had to be a sick, cosmic joke.
“Silence,” he rasped, but the command lacked its usual bite. His hands slid down your forearms, his calloused palms grazing yours, and the friction sent a jolt of violet sparks dancing between your fingers.
“Whoops,” you whispered, looking down at where your hands were joined. “I think I just gave you a high-five from the universe. Or maybe that was just my heart stopping, really hard to tell.”
He let his hands linger over yours, his thumbs tracing the line of your knuckles in an agonizingly slow stroke. Your heart skipped a beat.
Has it always been this hard to breathe?
“Your heart has nothing wrong with it, Little One,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, “Though, your mind lacks discipline.”
“My mind is busy,” you replied, turning your head just enough to catch the glint of his eye. “It’s currently occupied by the fact that you smell really, really nice—“
He couldn’t hear the rest, his gaze fell towards your lips, his breathing heavy. What would she do if I kissed her?, he wondered, Would she stop talking or would she keep pushing my buttons?
Not even a whole day had passed and he was thinking of kissing you.
He couldn’t kiss you. It was wrong. He really had to stay away from you, he was being a total creep.
Thor’s jaw tightened. He pulled back, the sudden loss of his heat making you feel like you’d been plunged into ice water. He walked to the center of the mat, his back rigid, his hands fisted at his sides as if he were trying to crush the sensation of your skin.
“Again,” he barked, the wall slamming back into place with a resounding thud. “And if you speak again, I will add twenty laps to your session. Begin.”
Day 10
The morning of your tenth day at the Compound arrived not with a sunrise, but with a dull thrumming behind your temples—the cosmic price of having a heart that beat in violet lightning. You rubbed your eyes, trying to quiet the static in your soul, and pulled on your gear.
When you entered the common room, the heavyweights were all there—a pantheon of heroes nursing mugs of coffee like they were holy relics. Steve, Nat, Tony, Bruce, Scott and then there was Rocket, hunched over the counter like a disgruntled mechanic.
And Thor. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, the grey fabric of his hoodie straining against shoulders that seemed wide enough to carry the sky. He looked beautiful in that exhausted, jagged way of his—a masterpiece of scars and sorrow.
Your blood pressure was rising. You could feel it.
Calm your tits, babe, you whispered to yourself in your mind, He was a god of antiquity, a king of a fallen world, and you—not even a quarter of his lifetime—human who still forgot to take the tags off her new clothes. He didn't like you, he was just a very handsome, very hot celestial babysitter.
“Good morning, legends, icons, and sentient trash pandas!” you chirped, sliding into the stool next to Rocket.
“Watch it, Sparky,” Rocket growled, not looking up from a piece of twisted metal. “One more crack about my species and I’m gonna rewire your hair dryer to deliver a tactical nuke to your scalp.”
“You love me, Rocket. I’m the only one who appreciates your craft,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.
Thor looked up then, his gaze heavy and slow, like a deep ocean current. “Good morning, Little One,” he mumbled. His voice was a low, resonant vibration that made the marrow in your bones ache.
“Morning, Thunder-Thighs,” you beamed, trying to ignore the way your heart did a clumsy somersault. He stood up, heading for the sleek, high-tech espresso machine with the weary grace of a man who hadn't slept since the dawn of time.
This is it, you thought. Show him you’re useful. Show him you’re more than just a loud mouth.
“You look like you're struggling, big guy,” you said, hopping off your stool and skipping over. You stood beside him, the heat radiating off his body feeling like a physical pull, a gravity you couldn't escape. “Let me give that a little jumpstart. An artisanal, hand-crafted spark to get the water boiling.”
Thor paused, his hand hovering over the button. He looked down at you, his eyes narrowed in a silent plea for peace. “The internal workings are delicate, Sparky. Do not meddle.”
“I'm not meddling, I'm enhancing! Think of it as a gift from the cosmos.”
You focused, channeling a sliver of your energy into your fingertip. You wanted a whisper, a tiny flicker, a gentle kiss of energy to the machine's heart. You touched the chrome casing, your eyes locked on his, hoping to see a flash of impressed wonder.
Instead, the energy lunged. Literally.
A violet arc of static tore from your finger, bypassing every safety fuse in the building. The machine shrieked, a violent, metallic clack-hiss erupted as the motherboard turned into a puddle of molten plastic.
BOOM.
The explosion was small but spectacular. A cloud of scalding white steam and soggy coffee grounds erupted into the air, coating everything in a three-foot radius.
Silence fell over the room. Tony hid his face in his hands. Rocket broke into a wheezing cackle.
Thor stood perfectly still. He was covered in a fine mist of dark roast, a single, wet coffee bean clinging to the bridge of his nose. He didn't move. He just stared at the smoking, twisted corpse of the only thing that brought him joy in the mornings.
“Oops?” you whispered, your face burning a deeper red than a beet. You waved a hand through the steam, your stomach sinking through the floor. “On the bright side, the room smells like a toasted marshmallow now? It’s very autumnal.”
Thor slowly turned his head to look at you. The look in his eye was a tragedy in three acts. He didn't say a word; he simply lifted a single, trembling finger and pointed it toward the training room door.
“Right. Moving. Training. I'll just go be an idiot over there,” you mumbled, scurrying away with your tail between your legs.
As you fled, you could feel his gaze burning into the small of your back. But he wasn't merely annoyed. He was obsessed with the chaos you brought into his quiet, grieving world, and the fact that you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen was a torture he wasn't sure he could survive.
Day 20
The twentieth day arrived with a rhythm you were beginning to recognize—the hum of the Compound’s lights, the scent of morning mist over the Hudson, and the inevitable, bone-deep anticipation of seeing him. You were slowly finding your footing, your body learning the language of combat that Thor spoke so fluently.
You were sparring, a dance of violet sparks and redirected thunder.
“Again,” Thor rumbled, his voice a low vibration that seemed to settle in your chest.
He moved with the grace of a predatory cat, stepping into your guard. He reached out, his massive hands catching your waist to pivot you into a defensive stance. You bit your lip so hard you tasted iron, your breath hitching as his palms grazed the skin above your leggings. The touch was a brand; it was a searing imprint that made your blood sing a desperate song.
You were breathless, but it wasn't from the tempo.
It was him.
It was the way his thumbs lingered on your hips for a fraction of a second too long, the way his stormy gaze tracked the pulse jumping in your throat. You were so caught up in the heat of his proximity that your brain simply disconnected from your feet.
You tripped over nothing but your own dizzying heart, stumbling forward and landing face-first on his heavy, leather-bound boots.
The silence that followed was deafening. You stayed there for a beat, eyes squeezed shut, wishing the floor would simply swallow you whole and deposit you in another dimension. Mortified didn't even begin to cover it.
Slowly, you looked up.
Thor was staring down at you, his head tilted, his expression a masterpiece of genuine confusion. He looked like a mountain from this angle—vast, rugged, and impossibly handsome.
“How is it,” he asked, his voice low and bewildered, “that you have the power to level a forest but cannot navigate a flat floor?”
You gulped, your throat tight as you stayed on your knees at his feet. It felt dangerously improper, sitting there in the shadow of a god, looking up at the sharp line of his jaw and the beautiful scar over his eye.
Then, his gaze changed. The confusion died a sudden, violent death, replaced by a dark, hooded gaze that made your heart stop.
Thor looked down at you—flushed, breathless, and looking like a dream fallen to his mercy—and for a heartbeat, he was truly, utterly undone. Fuck, he thought, the word a silent plea in his mind. You were most definitely a torture device specifically designed for his ruin. He was sure of it now.
He averted his eyes quickly, his jaw tightening as he cleared his throat to regain his composure. He had treated you like a child learning to walk, a nuisance to be tolerated, but the man behind the king was aware that you were a fire he couldn't put out.
He did something then that he hadn't done before. Instead of barking a command or turning his back, he slowly held out his hand, his fingers calloused and steady. “Come on,” he murmured.
You reached out, your smaller hand disappearing into his. As he pulled you up, his other hand found your waist, holding you loosely to steady you. The touch was light, almost ghostly, but it burned through you like a wildfire. You were so deep in the depths of this burning ache that you didn't think you’d ever find the surface.
“I’m just testing the floor's structural integrity,” you squeaked, trying to find your voice. “It passed. Very sturdy. Good job, Stark.”
Thor didn't let go immediately. His hand stayed on your waist, his thumb grazing the fabric of your shirt in a slow, subconscious rhythm that felt like a secret.
“The floor is fine,” he said, his voice dropping to that dangerous, soft tone. “It is your focus that wavers.”
“Hard not to waver when the room is so—“ you gulped, “tall,” you whispered, looking up at him through your lashes.
Thor’s grip tightened for a fleeting second before he finally pulled back, the loss of his heat leaving you shivering. “Again,” he commanded, though his eyes lingered on your lips for a beat too long. “And try to stay on your feet, Little One.”
12 Weeks Later
Twelve weeks. Ninety-one days of waking up in a room that still felt too big, in a body that still felt too loud, and in a heart that had become a casualty of war.
You were humming a soft, wandering tune as you waited for the elevator, your fingers tracing the seam of your running leggings. You looked down at your hands; they were steady now, the energy humming just beneath the surface like a loyal pet rather than a feral beast. Living here, under the watchful, stormy eye of a God, had changed you. You weren't merely a girl anymore; you were a weapon being honed by the finest blacksmith in the Nine Realms.
But the cost was high.
Every time Thor touched you—adjusting the curve of your spine, his calloused palms lingering just a second too long on your ribs—you felt like you were being rewritten. You lived for those fragments of him. A ghost of a smile, a muttered “Well done, Little One,” a lingering gaze when he thought you weren't looking.
It was pathetic, really.
You were starving for a man who saw you as a chaotic nuisance, a cosmic accident he was tasked to fix.
The elevator doors hissed open, and there was Steve.
He was leaning against the back wall, looking every bit the Captain in a simple navy henley that made his blue eyes pop. He smiled when he saw you, that genuine, steady-as-a-heartbeat smile that usually made people feel like the world wasn't actually falling apart.
“Heading out?” he asked, pushing off the wall of the elevator with an easy grace.
“Thought I’d give the pavement some trouble,” you chirped, stepping in beside him. The hum of the descent began, a low vibration beneath your sneakers. “The sun is actually out. I figured I should go appreciate it before Tony decides to build a dome over the Compound or something.”
Steve chuckled, a warm, grounded sound.
Over the last two months, he’d become your anchor. He understood the silence of the Compound. He understood what it was like to look around and see the empty spaces where friends used to be. When he’d told you about Bucky, you’d felt a sharp, empathetic pang. He’s all alone, just like me, you’d thought. Different worlds, different eras, but the same hollow ache.
“Mind if I join you for a few miles?” Steve asked as the floor numbers flickered by. “I could use the air. And I promise not to say ‘on your left’ more than a strictly necessary amount of times.”
“Make it only three times and you’ve got a deal, Rogers,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with yours. “But I have to warn you, I’ve been training with a literal God. My pace is, well, let's just say it's almost godly.”
Steve grinned. “I think I can keep up.”
As the doors opened into the lobby, you were laughing at something he said about Scott’s latest mishap in the lab. You were comfortable, light—a rare version of yourself. Then, you caught sight of him. Thor was standing by the glass entrance, his arms crossed over the broad expanse of his chest. He looked like a statue of ancient, silent judgment.
His gaze fell on you first, then flicked to Steve, and finally settled on the way you were standing just a little too close to the Captain’s side.
It felt like the atmospheric pressure had suddenly dropped, the way it does right before a devastating strike of lightning.
“Thor!” you called out, trying to keep your voice airy despite the way your heart immediately started its frantic, traitorous thumping. “You're back. Did you run out of things to scowl at in the city?”
Thor didn't smile. Not even a flicker. His gaze was dark, fixed on Steve’s hand, which was currently resting platonically near your elbow.
“I was finished,” Thor rumbled, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that seemed to make the very glass of the windows shiver. He looked at Steve, his jaw tightening until you heard the faint, sharp click of his teeth. “Captain. I did not realize you were scheduled for training this morning.”
“We're just going for a run, Thor,” Steve said, his tone even, though he clearly felt the shift in the air.
Thor’s gaze snapped back to you. He looked at you with an intensity so sharp it felt like the weight of a thousand planets, a mix of silent agony and a possessiveness he was desperately trying to mask as disappointment.
To him, you were a vibrant, shimmering sun, and he was a man who had walked through the dark for too long. He felt ancient, broken and utterly out of place in your presence—but seeing you smile at Steve felt like a spear to his ribs.
“A run,” Thor repeated, the word sounding like a curse. He stepped forward, his shadow falling over you, smelling of rain and cedar. “Ensure you do not overexert yourself, Little One. You still have three hours of sparring this afternoon. I would hate for you to be distracted.”
The way he said distracted made your skin flame. You looked up at him, your joyful mask slipping for just a second. “I'm never distracted when I'm with you, Thor. You make sure of that.”
Thor froze. For an agonizing heartbeat, his gaze dropped to your lips, his pupils blowing wide.
He wanted to snatch you away, to pull you into a corner of the world where no one else could see how bright you were. He felt like a fool, a man haunted by his own student, but he couldn't stop the cold jealousy from clawing at his throat.
“See that you aren't,” he rasped, then turned on his heel and marched toward the elevators without another word.
“Well,” Steve muttered, looking at the retreating back of the God of Thunder. “That was intense.”
“That's just Thor,” you said, your voice shaking as you tried to laugh it off. “He’s just really protective of his training schedule. Or maybe he just hates my running shoes.”
But as you walked out into the sun with Steve, you couldn't stop thinking about the way Thor’s hand had twitched, as if he were gripping a weapon he didn't have.
He wasn't just grumpy like his usual self. He was fuming.
You and Steve were about three miles in, and the so called godly pace you’d promised was rapidly turning into a desperate struggle for oxygen. You were keeping up, mostly out of pure, stubborn pride, but your lungs were starting to feel like they were being scrubbed with sandpaper.
Steve was barely even glowing with sweat. He was listening to you ramble about a movie you’d seen, laughing in that easy, golden-boy way of his that made the grueling run feel almost like a normal morning.
“I’m telling you, Steve, the ending made zero sense. If she had just—“
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy, rhythmic footfalls approached from behind, fast and deliberate. You didn't even have time to glance over your shoulder before a massive shadow fell over you, cutting through the morning sun.
You turned your head, and your heart stalled out completely.
Thor was right there. He was matching your stride with an effortless, predatory grace. He had swapped his sweatpants for charcoal running shorts and a grey t-shirt that looked like a sin on him—the fabric was tight, clinging to the ridges of his chest and the sharp lines of his torso in a way that made your throat go dry.
Your steps faltered, your sneakers scuffing the pavement as you nearly tripped over your own surprise.
“Thor?” you managed to mutter, your voice sounding a lot less grounded and a lot more breathless.
“Yes, Little One,” he said, his voice as steady as if he were sitting on a couch rather than sprinting. He didn't look at Steve nor did he look at the scenery. He just gave you a brief, sideways glance that felt like a touch.
“What are you doing? Our training session isn't until later this afternoon,” you said, blinking the sweat out of your eyes, your mind racing to find a reason why he'd suddenly joined you.
“I am training you,” he replied simply.
“Like—like this? We're just running?”
“We run too,” he rumbled.
“But you don't like only running,” you challenged, your eyebrows shooting up in genuine confusion. “Every time we do cardio, you make me do a lot of side quests while we run. You make me carry heavy stuff or jump over moving obstacles. You said running in a straight line was a ‘waste of a warrior's time.’ Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I do like running,” he cut you off, his jaw set in a hard, stubborn line. He increased his pace by just a fraction—just enough to force himself between you and Steve, effectively carving out a space where he was the only thing in your peripheral vision.
You stared at him, bewildered. Was he just having a mood? Maybe the coffee machine incident was still haunting him and he needed to burn off the grumpiness.
Steve, who had been suspiciously quiet, let out a soft, stifled sound. You glanced past Thor’s massive shoulder to see the Captain biting his lip, his eyes crinkling as he stared straight ahead, clearly trying to swallow a laugh.
“Is there something funny, Steve?” you asked, looking between the two of them. “Because I'm over here dying and Thor is acting like he’s practicing for the Olympics out of nowhere.”
“Nothing,” Steve managed to say, though his voice was strained. “Just enjoying the fresh air.”
Thor’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, but the muscle in his cheek jumped. “Focus on your breathing, Little One. You are wasting your oxygen on useless questions. If you have the energy to interrogate me, you are not running fast enough.”
“I was running plenty fast before you showed up like a localized thunderstorm!” you huffed, a violet spark dancing at your fingertip as you tried to keep up with his suddenly brutal pace.
He didn't answer, but his presence was absolute, a wall of heat and muscle that refused to let you look anywhere else. He looked rugged, untouchable, and so far out of your league it was a joke—yet here he was, breathing the same air, his shoulder almost brushing yours with every stride. It made no sense, but you just pushed harder, trying to ignore how much your heart was racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the run.
Steve adjusted his pace, seemingly oblivious to the sudden drop in temperature radiating from the man between you. “Anyways, doll, let’s continue our conversation,” he said, his voice easy and warm. “You were saying? About the movie?”
Thor’s head whipped toward him so fast it was a wonder he didn't give himself whiplash. The rhythmic thud of his shoes on the pavement suddenly sounded like a war drum.
“Doll?” Thor’s voice dropped into a low, dangerous sound that made the hair on your arms stand up. “Is that how you talk to a lady, Rogers? Like she is a trinket on a shelf?”
You blinked, your steps stuttering. What the hell was up with him today? He was acting like someone had replaced his morning coffee with pure vinegar.
“Yes, Thor, he usually calls me that,” you said, looking at him with genuine confusion. “It’s fine. It’s just a nickname.”
What is wrong with him calling me that? you wondered. It wasn't like Thor had ever offered a sweet nickname. To him, you were just ‘Little One’ or ‘Sparky’—labels that felt more like he was describing a pet or a project than a woman.
Thor turned his gaze toward you then, his blue eye wide with a flash of something that looked like disbelief. “Usually calls you that? What—” He stopped himself, his chest heaving under that grey t-shirt as he took a long, deep breath that looked like it took every ounce of his godly restraint.
He gripped his hands into fists as he ran, his knuckles white. “Continue your conversation, please,” he rasped, though he looked like he wanted to do anything but listen.
Your eyebrows furrowed. He was being weird. Really, really weird.
“Right... anyway,” you said, turning back toward Steve, or at least trying to. Every time Steve tried to catch your eye, Thor was there—a massive, muscular wall of grey cotton and brooding energy. He shifted his stride, his broad shoulders perfectly eclipsing Steve’s face so that you were effectively trapped in Thor’s orbit.
“So, Steve,” you started, raising your voice to be heard over the sound of Thor’s heavy breathing. “I was thinking about that vintage record shop you mentioned. The one in Brooklyn? Do you think they’d have any old soul records? I’ve been wanting to start a collection.”
Steve leaned forward, trying to see around the mountain that was Thor. “I’m sure they would, doll. In fact, I could take you there this weekend if you—”
As the word doll left Steve’s lips, the sun, which had been bright and golden only moments ago, was suddenly swallowed by a thick, heavy cloud. The light turned grey and muted, matching the stormy mood radiating from the man beside you.
Thor drifted even closer to you, his arm nearly brushing yours. He was so tall, so imposing. Every time Steve tried to glance at you, Thor seemed to grow an inch, his presence blinding the two of you from each other.
“A record shop?” Thor interjected, his voice tight. “Midgardian music is—it is loud. You should be focused on your studies, not on ancient plastic discs.”
“It’s a hobby, Thor!” you huffed, frustrated by his sudden interference. “And Steve is being nice. Why are you being so—un-Thor-like?”
“I am being a mentor,” he grumbled, and as he spoke, the clouds overhead turned a darker, bruised shade of purple. The wind picked up, whipping your hair across your face. “A mentor who realizes that dolls do not need record collections. They need discipline.”
Steve let out a soft, knowing huff behind Thor’s shoulder. “It’s just a shop, Thor. No need for the heavy weather.”
Thor didn't answer. He just dug his heels in, his pace becoming a brutal, punishing sprint that forced you to stop talking just to keep your lungs from collapsing.
You looked at the back of his neck, at the handsome set of his jaw, and felt that familiar, hopeless ache. He was acting like a jerk, but even a jerk version of Thor was the most captivating thing you’d ever seen. You just wished you knew why he was so determined to ruin your morning with Steve.
“Okay, weird…” you muttered, the word nearly lost to the wind as you struggled to match the sudden, punishing rhythm of his stride.
You tried to focus on your breathing, but your gaze kept betrayed you, sliding sideways to the rhythmic flex of his arms. His biceps were massive, the grey fabric of his shirt straining against the sheer volume of his strength. A traitorous thought flickered through your mind—the image of those arms locking you in, your head tucked securely between his forearm and that iron-hard bicep. God, I’m such a pervert, you scolded yourself, a flush that had nothing to do with cardio creeping up your neck. Thirsting after a man who had seen empires rise and fall was probably some kind of cosmic crime, yet here you were, losing your mind over his biceps.
“Your form is improving, Little One,” Thor said.
Suddenly, the grey heavy clouds parted. A bright, defiant beam of golden sunlight broke through, warming the top of your head and illuminating the path.
His voice had lost that sharp edge of disappointment, replaced by a low, melodic resonance that felt like a caress. “Your stride is more purposeful than it was weeks ago. You are learning to carry your power rather than being dragged by it.”
You beamed at him, your heart doing a little skip that had zero to do with your now purposeful pace. “Really? You're not just saying that so I don't blow up any more appliances?”
“I never speak untruths regarding the warrior’s path,” he murmured, and for a fleeting second, his gaze softened as it landed on your face, lingering with a heavy warmth.
“Well, thanks, Thor.” you said, your voice softening. “That actually means a lot.”
As you spoke to him, the sun burned brighter, turning the Hudson into a sheet of sparkling diamonds. But then, Steve’s voice drifted over from the other side of the mountain.
“She’s a fast learner, Thor. I was telling her earlier, she’s got the heart of a—“
Flash.
A thick, bruised cloud lunged across the sun, plunging the sidewalk back into a chilly, muted grey. The temperature dropped five degrees instantly.
“The Captain’s observations are noted,” Thor bit out, his voice returning to a jagged frost. “But he does not see the nuances of your energy as I do.”
You blinked, looking up at the sky and then back at Thor. What are the chances? Every time you shared a moment with Thor, the world turned golden; every time Steve so much as complimented you, the weather acted like it was preparing for a funeral.
“Okay, is the weather following our conversation or am I actually losing my mind?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead.
“The sky is as restless as your focus,” Thor grumbled, though he drifted an inch closer to you, his heat radiating through your clothes. “We are finished with this jog. The energy you are wasting on Steve’s chatter would be better spent on sustenance.”
He slowed his pace to a walk, and because he stopped, the whole group stopped. He stood between you and Steve like a literal barricade of muscle.
“Breakfast,” Thor commanded, the word final and absolute. “Now. Before you faint from a lack of discipline.”
“I'm not gonna faint, I'm just hungry!” you huffed, though you didn't protest as he began leading the way back toward the Compound.
As the three of you walked toward the common room, you stayed tucked in the shadow of the God of Thunder.
Steve gave you a small, sympathetic shrug behind Thor’s back, but you were too busy watching the way the sunlight flickered intermittently over Thor’s broad shoulders. You were confused and starving—but as long as he kept looking at you with that heavy, wordless gaze, you figured you could handle a little bit of weird weather.
The common room was a chaotic sanctuary of clinking silverware and the smell of sizzling eggs. Tony was squinting at a holographic screen over his coffee, Natasha was elegantly dissecting an omelet, and Rocket was perched on a chair, currently mid-argument with a very calm-looking Groot.
“I'm tellin' ya, twigs, if you put the engine coolant in the blender, it’s not science, it's an insurance claim!”Rocket barked, before his yellow eyes flicked to you as you slid into the seat next to him. “Well, look who survived the morning marathon. You look like a beet with legs, kid.”
“And you look like you haven't slept since the Great Depression, Rocket,” you fired back, reaching for the orange juice. “Be nice, or I’ll tell Groot you actually like his singing.”
“You wouldn't dare,” the raccoon narrowed his eyes, though he shoved a plate of hash browns toward you. “Eat up. You’re vibrating. It’s making my fur stand on end.”
You laughed, the sound bright and easy, but your heart was still doing that frantic, uneven dance. Thor sat directly across from you. He had shed the damp grey shirt for a fresh black tank top, his skin still radiating a lingering heat that seemed to hum across the table. The conversation around the table was a comfortable hum of “pass the salt” and ”did you see the news?”
Thor was uncharacteristically quiet, his gaze fixed on his plate, though his presence was as heavy as a mountain. He reached out for the bowl of fruit in the center of the table, his fingers brushing against the rim.
“Pass the honey, would you, honey?” he murmured to you, his voice a low, distracted rumble.
The table went dead silent.
The clatter of Tony’s fork hitting his plate was the only sound. Natasha’s hand froze halfway to her mouth. Rocket’s jaw actually dropped, a piece of bacon falling forgotten from his paw.
Thor froze. The realization of what had just slipped past his lips seemed to hit him in slow motion. His hand stayed outstretched, his knuckles turning a faint, dusty pink that crawled up his neck to the tips of his ears. He didn't look up, his blue eye fixed on the table as if he were trying to command the wood to swallow him whole.
Your heart felt like it had been jump-started by a star. The word hung in the air, sweet and heavy, a slip of the tongue that felt like a secret he hadn't meant to tell.
“Sure thing, big guy,” you said, your voice breathless, nearly a whisper.
You pushed the small glass jar toward him, your fingers trembling. You felt like you were floating, your skin humming with a warmth that had nothing to do with your powers.
Honey. The word coming from him, in that deep, gravelly baritone, was enough to make your knees weak even while sitting down.
Thor finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours for an electrifying second. He was only a man who was terrified by the weight of his own heart.
“Thank you,” he rasped, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel.
Tony cleared his throat loudly, breaking the spell. “Right. So... honey. Great for the throat. Very medicinal,” he muttered, though he shot a knowing, amused look at Natasha.
The table slowly returned to life, the clinking of plates resuming, but the air had changed. It was thicker, sweeter, and dangerously charged. You kept your head down, focusing on your breakfast, but you could feel Thor’s presence across from you—a silent, brooding storm that had accidentally let a ray of sunshine slip through the clouds.
You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, and you definitely wanted him to say it again. Instead, you just bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that felt like it was going to light up the entire room.
You watched Thor leave when he was done with his breakfast, the sheer scale of him making the doorway look like a toy frame. He moved with a heavy, unhurried power that always made the air feel thinner when he left a room. You hated to see him go, but you certainly loved watching him walk away—the way the muscles in his back shifted under that tank top was a masterpiece you weren’t quite finished studying.
“What?” you asked, suddenly aware of Natasha leaning against the counter next to you, her head tilted with a knowing, lethal sort of curiosity.
“What is going on between you two?” she asked, her voice low and smooth.
“What could there be going on?” You tried for confused, but your voice pitched a little too high. “He’s teaching me not to explode. It’s a very professional, very electric student-teacher dynamic.”
“He’s obviously into you,” Nat countered, a small, amused smirk playing on her lips.
Your eyes widened, your chest heaving as the oxygen seemed to vanish from the kitchen. “What?” you stammered. “He most definitely isn't. Don’t be ridiculous, Nat. I was a mortal just three months ago. He’s... he’s a monument. He doesn't look at me like that.”
You pushed away from the table, needing to escape the heat of her gaze. “Everyone has gone insane,” you muttered, heading for the exit.
“He is, Sparky! He definitely is!” she called out after you, her laughter trailing behind you like a taunt.
You walked down the hallway, your mind a whirlwind of the sound of Thor’s voice saying honey. It was impossible. Natasha was a master spy, but she was clearly misreading the data. Thor was ancient, a king of a dead world; he was just protective because you were a walking hazard.
You were so lost in your head that you didn't see the figure turning the corner until you nearly bowled him over.
“Whoa, steady there,” a smooth voice caught you.
You looked up, blinking. It was an agent—one you’d seen around the Compound, but never this close. He was ridiculously good-looking, with a sharp jawline, messy brown hair, and striking green eyes that seemed to crinkle at the corners as he smiled down at you.
“Oh, hello there,” he said, his voice warm.
“Hello,” you replied, trying to regain your composure.
“You're the girl Thor’s training, right?” he asked, leaning one shoulder against the wall.
“Yes. Is something the matter? Am I leaning on a restricted wall again?”
“Oh—no,” he chuckled, the sound rich and easy. “It’s just that the other agents were talking about you and your stunning looks. I see now they were actually underselling you.”
You felt the heat climb up your neck, a genuine blush staining your cheeks. “Oh. Well, thank you.”
“No need for thanks,” he said, stepping a fraction closer. He wasn't a god, he didn't smell like a storm, but he was handsome and human and attainable. “Just let me take you out sometime. Dinner, maybe?”
The idea of anyone who wasn't Thor asking you out felt like a strange kind of blasphemy. It felt like trying to read a paperback after being immersed in an epic poem. But then you remembered Natasha’s words, and you remembered the way Thor called you Little One like you weren’t of importance.
Your feelings for him were a slow-motion car crash. You needed an exit ramp. You needed to remember what it felt like to be looked at by someone who didn't think you were a distraction or a project.
And you needed someone more appropriate. Closer to your age.
You nodded sheepishly, your fingers trembling slightly as you pulled out your phone. “Sure,” you murmured, giving him your number. “I think I'd like that.”
As you walked away toward your room, your heart felt heavy, a dull ache of guilt that made no sense. You hadn't done anything wrong, but the violet light beneath your skin felt restless, flickering as if the stars themselves were displeased with the arrangement.
Thor had heard it all.
He had been standing just around the corridor’s edge, his hand braced against the cold industrial wall, intending to find you and apologize for the ‘honey’ slip. Instead, he had listened to the smooth cadence of a man who hadn't seen the end of the world—a man who looked at you and saw a pretty girl, not a celestial event.
His heart felt as though it had been carved out of his chest with a dull blade.
Competition. The word felt foreign and foul in his mind. In the twelve weeks you had been his, he had never considered it. You were his trainee. You were his nuisance. You were his Little One. You were the girl who blew up his coffee machine and looked at him like he was the sun. You were his.
The logic of a king tried to surface—that this mortal was appropriate, that he was your age, that he wouldn't bring the weight of a thousand years of grief into your bed. But that logic was drowned out by a primal roar of possessiveness. He didn't want you to have appropriate. He wanted you to stay in his shadow, where it was safe and where he could watch the light of your sparks dance against the dark.
How could he stop it?
He was the God of Thunder, but he was also a man who felt like a ghost in your presence. He couldn't forbid you. But as he marched toward the gym, his footsteps echoing like rolling thunder, the only thing he knew was that he would make that date a physical impossibility.
In your quarters, you were a whirlwind of reckless hope.
He’s into you, Natasha’s voice echoed in your head. It was a dangerous, intoxicating thought. You pulled on your usual gear—the black leggings and the skin-tight shirt that left nothing to the imagination—but today, you didn't stop there.
You leaned into the mirror, your hands trembling as you applied a layer of clear, high-shine lip gloss. It made your lips look soft, plush, and utterly sinful. Then, you dabbed a scented body oil onto your wrists and the hollow of your throat—a fragrance of vanilla and white musk that bloomed in the heat of your skin.
You were playing with fire, you knew it. You made your way to the gym, the energy in your veins humming with a sharp frequency. When the doors hissed open, you saw him. Thor was already on the mat, his back to you, his muscles so tense they looked like they were made of corded steel.
“Hello, big guy,” you said, your voice a little lower, a little steadier than usual.
Thor turned, and he froze. He didn't greet you back, he didn't even blink. His gaze landed on your mouth—on the shimmering, wet glow of your lips—and his pupils blew wide until the blue of his eye was a thin, jagged ring. The scent of the vanilla hit him, mixing with the scent of the gym until it was all he could breathe.
He felt a muscle in his jaw snap. He knew that scent wasn't for the gym. He knew those lips were for the man in the hallway.
You had a crush and you were dressing up.
You walked onto the mat, your skin humming with the vanilla-scented oil you’d applied, feeling the weight of Thor’s stare. “You're staring, big guy,” you chirped, “Is there something on my face, or did you finally realize my eyelashes are a masterpiece of structural engineering? I was really spent time on wasn't I?”
Thor cleared his throat, a broken, rough sound. He tore his eyes away from your mouth, looking instead at the wall behind you as if it held the secrets to the universe. “Your appearance is certainly noted,” he managed to rumble, his voice lower than usual. “Let us begin, Little One. Focus on the mat, not your masterpieces.”
“Focus is my middle name,” you teased, sliding into a stance that was still a little too shaky to be professional. “Well, technically it’s Disaster, but I’m rebranding. Come on, Thunder-Thighs. Try to hit me. I promise I won't cry.”
Thor’s jaw tightened. He stepped toward you, the heat radiating off him feeling like a literal wall. Just as he raised his hands to catch your wrists, the heavy doors of the gym hissed open.
Steve walked in, his shield slung over his back, looking every bit the weary commander. He stopped at the edge of the mat, his eyes darting between your flushed face and Thor’s rigid, towering frame.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Steve said, his voice level and serious. “But Tony just got a ping on the signature we've been tracking. We’re heading out tomorrow morning. All of us.” He looked at you, a small, encouraging nod following. “It’ll be your first mission. Congrats, Sparky.”
The world seemed to stop. Your first mission. A chance to prove you weren't just a project.
“No,” Thor barked instantly, the word cracking like a whip. He turned to Steve, his brow furrowed in a deep, ancient scowl. “She is not prepared. Her control is still—“
Oh here we go, you thought rolling your eyes.
He stopped. The air in his lungs seemed to hitch as a memory flashed through his mind—the agent in the hallway, the phone number, the date that was supposed to happen while the rest of the world moved on.
If you stayed behind, you’d be with him. The mortal with the green eyes. You’d be laughing at a dinner table while Thor was light-years away, or miles away, or anywhere that wasn't beside you.
Thor’s fingers twitched at his sides. His face went through a rapid-fire sequence of emotions—protectiveness, hesitation, and then a cold, dark resolve.
“—still developing,” he continued, his sentence shifting mid-breath, “but she will never learn the true nature of her power within these walls. She comes with us.”
Are you hearing this right?
You blinked, stunned by the sudden pivot. “Wait, really? I thought I was still a liability in leggings?”
Thor turned back to you, his gaze dropping once more to your lips, his expression unreadable and heavy. “The liability is leaving you here,” he muttered, the words sounding more like a confession to himself than an answer to you. He looked at Steve. “Tell Stark we will be ready. Her training continues through the night if necessary.”
Steve looked between the two of you, a glimmer of realization dawning in his blue eyes, but he simply nodded. “Suit up at 06.00.”
As Steve left, you looked at Thor, your eyebrows furrowed. “That was a quick U-turn, big guy. One second I'm a hothouse flower, the next I'm an Avenger? What changed?”
“The mission parameters,” Thor said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp as he stepped back into your space, his shadow swallowing you whole. “Now, again. If you cannot defend yourself against me, you have no business facing the world. Stance.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, your mind racing to keep up with his sudden shift. Thor was usually as stubborn as the mountains he came from, but you weren't about to argue with a field promotion.
“Mhm... sure thing,” you said, shifting your weight. You knew you should leave it at that, but with the scent of vanilla still clinging to you and his eyes fixed on your mouth, you couldn't help yourself. You leaned in just a fraction, a mischievous grin playing on your shimmering lips. “Honey.”
The effect was a total explosion.
Thor’s entire body went rigid, his breath hitching in a sharp, audible gasp. For a second, the God of Thunder looked completely rattled, his composure shattered by a single syllable aimed back at him. He averted his eyes, his jaw working as he stared at the floor, looking for all the world like a man trying to remember how to speak his own language.
What was he going to do with you? You were a walking riot, a chaotic spark that seemed determined to set his very soul on fire.
Then, he looked back. The stormy darkness in his eyes was still there, but it was swimming with a sudden, dangerous amusement. He stepped closer, invading your personal space until you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.
“I said let us start,” he rumbled, his voice dropping into a register so low it made your bones ache. A ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Darling.”
The air left your lungs in a silent rush. You definitely stopped breathing. You knew he was just playing the game, tossing your own weapon back at you with interest, but it didn't matter. The word—spoken in that ancient, gravelly baritone—hit you like a weight.
You cleared your throat, trying to find your voice. “Fine,” you managed, your voice a little higher than you intended. “Train me as hard as you can, then. Don't hold back just because you think I'm delicate.”
Thor didn't laugh, but his gaze didn't waver for a second. “I have no intention of holding back,” he said, and the way he said it made your skin flame.
The sparring match began in earnest.
All the grueling drills he’d put you through over the last months—the endless repetitions, the stance corrections, the lessons on weight distribution—were finally clicking. He was moving with the speed of a storm, forcing you to react, and you gave him back the same energy, your violet sparks snapping at your fingertips as you parried his strikes.
Thor watched you, his heart hammering a rhythm that had nothing to do with the exertion. I cannot go hard on her, he thought, his jaw tightening as he watched the fierce concentration on your face. You looked so innocent and pretty while you were trying to focus, your brow slightly furrowed and your hair beginning to escape your ponytail. He knew it was wrong to be this distracted, to let his guard drop because he was mesmerized by the way you moved, but he couldn't help it. Not when you looked like that.
As he lunged forward for a mock strike, his hand moved a fraction too close. His knuckles unintentionally grazed the sensitive skin of your throat.
Your breath stuttered. The contact was electric, sending a jolt through your system that made your footing falter. The world tilted as you lost your balance, but your instincts kicked in.
You reached out, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and you yanked him toward you with every ounce of your strength.
Usually, Thor was an immovable force, a mountain that couldn't be unfooted by such a maneuver—especially from a student. But he was so lost in the scent of you and the sight of your shimmering lips that his center of gravity vanished. He fell.
The air was knocked out of you as he landed on top of you, his sheer weight pressing you deep into the padded mat. He braced his forearms on either side of your head, but his chest was flush against yours, rising and falling in heavy, ragged bursts.
Your faces were so close that your lips were only inches apart. You could feel the heat of his breath, smell the cedar and the storm, and see every fleck of gold in his turbulent blue eyes.
I could just die like this and I'd be happy, you thought to yourself, your fingers still clutching his shirt, your heart beating so hard you were sure he could feel it against his own ribs.
Thor couldn't move, he just stared down at you, his gaze fixated on your mouth with a look of pure hunger that made your blood turn to liquid fire.
You couldn't breathe. Your own gaze was fixed on his lips, and before your brain could tell your body to stop, your hands ascended, your fingers curling around his thick, corded neck.
His breathing hitched, turning into a series of fast, shallow rasps. You were touching him. You were actually touching him, and he looked like he was losing the ability to function just from the friction of your skin against his. His torso was pressed tight to yours, his heavy heat burning through your clothes, making your mind go to dangerous places. You could feel every muscle in his chest and thighs, solid as stone, pinning you down.
Breathe, girl, breathe, you told yourself, but your lungs weren't cooperating.
Thor’s massive left hand moved, his fingers grazing through your hair as he cupped the side of your head. “How do you manage to fall every single time we spar, sweet girl?” he mumbled.
Sweet girl? He was trying to kill you. He had to be. The way he said it was so tender and yet so heavy with wanting that it felt like it was actually pressing on your chest.
You bit your lip, watching his eyes drop to the movement instantly. “I think I might have balance issues,” you whispered.
You didn't have balance issues. Your only issue was the six-foot-four God of Thunder currently crushing you into the floor.
“Am I interrupting something?”
The voice was dry, loud, and unmistakably Tony Stark.
You both averted your eyes, you took a sharp intake of breath at the sudden interference. Thor scrambled back, his movements uncharacteristically frantic as he shoved himself off you and stood up in one fluid, jerky motion. He offered you a hand, but he wouldn't look at you, his face flushed a deep, tell-tale red that reached all the way to his collar.
You took his hand and sat up, smoothing your hair and trying to ignore the fact that your heart was trying to kick its way out of your ribs. You looked toward the door where Tony was standing, leaning against the frame with a smirk that said he’d seen enough to fuel a year's worth of teasing.
“Oh my god,” you muttered under your breath. “What is it with people barging in today?”
“Just checking on the progress of our newest recruit,” Tony said, his eyes dancing between your ruffled appearance and Thor’s rigid, silent back. “But it looks like you two are—well, you're definitely working on your close-quarters combat. Keep it up—on second thought, don't. Actually, for the sake of the plumbing in this building, maybe take a lap.”
You felt like your face was actually radiating heat. You squeezed your eyes shut for a fleeting second, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you whole.
“Nothing to say now, Sparky? No comeback?” Tony’s voice was dripping with a delight that made you want to hurl a violet energy bolt at his head. “Congrats on the first mission, kiddo. Good luck tomorrow. You’re clearly in capable hands.”
He left with a devilish chuckle that echoed down the hallway, leaving a silence behind that was ten times more suffocating than the noise.
“Damn you, Stark,” Thor mumbled, the words barely a breath.
He finally turned his body toward you, but the bravado from moments ago was gone. Both of you were suddenly fascinated by different patches of the ceiling, your gazes refusing to collide. The air felt heavy, charged with everything that had almost happened and the crushing embarrassment of being caught.
“Should we—“ Thor started. “We should—“ you blurted out at the exact same time.
You were a stuttering mess, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The memory of him looking at your lips and his weight pressing you into the mat was a screaming siren in your brain.
“I will just go,” you said, the words tripping over each other. You couldn't look up at him; you were terrified of what you’d see in his eyes—or worse, what he’d see in yours. You turned and started for the door, your legs feeling like they belonged to a newborn giraffe.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice a rough scrape as he cleared his throat again. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
You didn't look back. You bolted out of the gym and didn't stop until you were deep in the labyrinth of the hallway leading to your quarters. Your heart was thumping against the back of your teeth, making it hard to swallow.
Your fingers went to your neck, tracing the spot where his knuckles had grazed you. You could still feel the phantom pressure of him. What was that? What the fuck had just happened? One minute he was treating you like a nuisance, and the next he was calling you sweet girl and looking at you like you were the only thing in the universe worth breathing for.
Did you even see it right?
You must’ve imagined it.
You reached your door and leaned your forehead against the cool metal, your breath coming in short, jagged gasps. Tomorrow was your first mission. Tomorrow everything would change. But as you stood there in the quiet corridor, all you could think about was the heat of his skin and the way the world had narrowed down to just the inches between your lips and his.
—
The sharp rap on your door felt like it was echoing inside your skull. “Sparky? We're leaving in an hour. Wake up,” Natasha’s voice called out, crisp and far too alert for 5:00 AM.
“Uhhh,” you groaned into your pillow, the sound muffled by the fabric. Living at the Compound had its perks, but these ungodly hours were definitely not one of them. “I am awake!” you yelled back, though you remained horizontal for another thirty seconds, questioning every life choice that had led you to this moment. Right. The powers. The sparks that tended to blow up blenders when you got frustrated. You didn't really have a choice.
You dragged yourself out of bed and pulled on the tactical gear they’d designed for you. It was sleek, black, and functional, hugging your curves in a way that made you feel a bit more like a soldier and a bit less like a walking hazard.
When you stumbled into the common room, the smell of brewing coffee was the only thing keeping you upright. You headed straight for the machine, only to find a massive, familiar silhouette already there.
“Morning, sweet girl,” he mumbled.
The words hit you like a low-frequency hum, vibrating right in your chest. Your heart gave a violent thud. So you were doing this now? He was actually going to call you that?
You forced yourself to look up, a tired but genuine smile tugging at your lips. “Good morning, good looking,” you said back.
The compliment caught him off guard. Thor paused, his hand hovering over a mug as he turned to look at you. A small, slow smirk started to spread across his face—the kind that reached his eyes and made the stormy blue soften.
“Good looking?” he questioned, his voice amused.
“Yes,” you said, feeling a sudden surge of caffeine-free adrenaline. You tilted your head to the right, looking up at him through your lashes, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be dangerous. “You don't like it?”
The weight of your words hit you then. Were you flirting with him? At five in the morning? In front of the industrial-sized coffee maker? Apparently, you were.
You knew you were hoping for something that would never happen, he would never see you more than a rookie, but you couldn't help yourself.
Thor actually smiled then—a real, breathtaking smile that made your stomach do a somersault. His heart soared at the compliment. He knew you didn’t mean it in the way he wanted you to. Though he kept hoping. “I do, darling,” he said, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly tone. He let his gaze sweep over you, lingering on the new suit. “Your gear suits you. I like it.”
And that was it. Before you could even think of a witty comeback, he turned and made his way to the couch, leaving you standing by the counter with your heart in your mouth.
You turned back to the coffee machine, your face flushing a deep, unmistakable crimson. “Thank you,” you said, your voice coming out thin and a little breathless. You stared at the dripping coffee, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for a spoon. If this was how the mission was starting, you weren't sure your heart would survive until the afternoon.
Thor sat on the edge of the sofa, ostensibly focused on his mug, but his eyes were doing a slow, treacherous lap of the room—specifically the space you occupied. He watched the way the tactical suit moved as you reached for the milk, his gaze tracing your curves with a heavy, unblinking focus. Stop it, he scolded himself, his grip tightening on the ceramic. You are being a creep. She is a comrade. Focus on the coffee.
He let out a low, frustrated grunt and forced his eyes down into the dark depths of his drink.
“You massive pervert!”
The voice cracked through the quiet morning like a gunshot. Thor flinched so hard coffee slopped over the rim of his mug, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. He looked down to see Rocket perched on the coffee table directly in front of him, arms crossed and a look of pure, judgmental glee on his face.
“Shut up, rat. You scared me,” Thor mumbled, his face flushing a furious shade of red. He tried to reclaim his dignity by narrowing his eyes and giving Rocket a look that would have withered a lesser creature.
Rocket’s smirk didn't even waver. “I’m not a rat, pervert. And I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes. You were just too busy studying the scenery to notice.”
You finished fixing your coffee and turned around, catching the tail end of Thor’s jump-scare. You couldn't help it; a bright, melodic giggle escaped you, the sound cutting through the morning tension.
Thor’s head whipped around, his attention snapping back to you instantly. The embarrassment in his eyes was warring with the way they softened just at the sight of you.
“Morning, rat,” you chirped as you walked over and sank into the chair next to the couch. You blew on your coffee, looking between the two of them curiously. “Wait, why are you calling him a perver—“
Before the word could even leave your mouth, Thor was on his feet.
“Time for the rat to go! Come on!” Thor boomed, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
In one fluid, desperate motion, he reached out and snatched Rocket up by the back of his tactical vest with his left hand. As Rocket opened his mouth to likely spill every secret he’d just witnessed, Thor’s massive palm clamped over the raccoon’s snout, effectively muffling a string of very colorful curses.
“We have... preparations!” Thor announced to the room at large, hauling a kicking, muffled Rocket toward the exit.
You sat there, leaning back in your chair and giggling into your mug as you watched the God of Thunder practically flee the room to keep his dignity intact. He didn't look back, but the tips of his ears were still glowing red. Your gaze turned into one of confusion then.
What could Rocket possibly tell you? Was Thor embarrassed?
You shook your head, it was 5 AM, you had no energy to think about anything.
—
The interior of the Quinjet was bathed in the clinical glow of tactical lights as it cut through the heavy, humid air above the Amazon. Steve stood by the holotable, his expression grim as he pointed to a digital map of a fortified research outpost hidden deep within the dense green canopy below.
“Alright, listen up,” Steve’s voice was steady, cutting through the low thrum of the engines. “We’re tracking a rogue splinter cell that’s weaponized a cache of Chitauri tech. They’ve built a localized gravity well in the heart of the basin. If they turn it on, they’ll pull every aircraft within a five-hundred-mile radius out of the sky. Tony and Bruce, you’re on tech suppression. Nat, Clint—flank the cooling vents. Thor, you’re the heavy hitter. You lead the charge through the main gate.”
Steve looked at you, giving you a sharp, professional nod. “Sparky, you’re paired with Thor. Your job is to disrupt their shielding so he can get through. Stay on his six. We move as a unit, but in that jungle, visibility is zero. Don’t lose sight of him.”
Through the reinforced windows, you could see the endless stretch of passing trees blurring into a dark, emerald sea as the jet banked sharply. You felt a sharp prickle of adrenaline. This was it. You looked over at Thor, who was leaning against the bulkhead, the massive, jagged silhouette of Stormbreaker resting against his shoulder. He looked restless, his jaw set so tight the muscles were bulging. You caught his gaze just as he jerked his head away, staring intensely at the floor.
Without thinking, you reached out and gripped his bicep. The sheer firmness of the muscle underneath his gear made your pulse skip. Get it together, you scolded yourself. You felt a familiar, dull ache in your chest. A god like him—a king who carried a weapon forged in the heart of a dying star—could never truly want someone as fleeting as you. You were just a trainee, a girl with a power she couldn't control. You were a project to him, a momentary distraction in a life that spanned centuries.
Thor looked down at you, his blue eye wide and startled by your touch.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” you asked, tilting your head. “About me? On the field?”
“I am not, sweet girl. Don’t worry,” he rumbled, his voice a low, forced calm.
He was a liar. He was terrified. He was so fucking scared that something was going to happen to you that he could barely feel the weight of the handle in his hand. He looked at you—beautiful and so full of light—and felt like a ghost. He was a man of war, a survivor of loss after loss. How could you ever want someone so full of agony and broken? You deserved someone who didn't carry the scent of war and ancient grief. You deserved a life in the sun, not a life in the middle of his storm.
“Just stay close to me, will you?” he continued, his hand briefly covering yours on his arm, his grip almost bruising in its sudden intensity.
Your eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t quite dissect the raw, dark vulnerability in his expression. It didn't match his casual words. You slowly nodded, your fingers tightening on the warm marble of his arm.
“Okay,” you whispered. “Always.”
“Good,” he muttered, his fingers lingering on yours for a second too long before he reached back to steady Stormbreaker.
The jet gave a final, heavy jolt as it hovered just above the clearing. The ramp of the Quinjet hissed as it lowered, the humid jungle air rushing in to replace the sterile chill of the cabin. Thor turned to face the open forest, his cape fluttering violently in the downdraft. He wouldn't let you see the fear, and he certainly wouldn't let you see the longing. He would just be the lightning that cleared your path.
The humidity hit your face as you followed Thor out of the jet, your boots squelching into the thick, dark mud of the Amazon floor. The jungle was a symphony of screeching birds and humming machinery, but all you could focus on was the broad, armored back of the man in front of you.
It felt like a heavy, wet blanket was cradling you as you pushed deeper toward the facility's main gate. Every time you tripped over a stray vine or the mud threatened to claim one of your boots, a massive, gauntlet-clad hand was there to steady you—a brief, searing contact that lingered just a second too long before he’d jerk his hand back as if he’d touched an open flame.
“Keep your eyes up,” Thor commanded, his voice dropping into a combat-ready growl. Stormbreaker hummed in his hand, the air around the axe beginning to crackle with premature static.
“Eyes are up, good looking,” you whispered, ducking under a massive, waxy leaf. “Mostly focused on that cape, though. Does it have a high thread count? It looks expensive to get mud out of.”
Thor’s shoulder hitched—a suppressed laugh or a suppressed groan, you couldn't tell. “Focus on the perimeter, not my tailoring.”
A sudden hiss of steam erupted from a hidden vent in the facility’s exterior wall, followed by a barrage of pulse-fire. Three Hydra sentries in tactical exoskeletons burst through.You didn't even have time to flinch before Thor was over you. He stepped in front of you then he swept you back with one massive arm, his body taking the brunt of the heat as he swung Stormbreaker to deflect a second volley.
“I had it, you know!” you yelled over the din, firing a bolt of violet energy that shattered a sentry's visor. “I’m not just here for the scenery!”
With a roar, he unleashed a bolt of lightning that turned the nearest sentry into a heap of molten scrap. You didn't stay idle, though. You lunged out from behind him, your hands glowing a fierce violet. You slammed your palms together, sending a shockwave of energy that shattered the remaining pulse-rifles and sent the Hydra guards sprawling.
Thor turned to you, his chest heaving, his cape singed at the edges. He stepped into your space, his presence overwhelming, and before you could make another retort, his hand came up. He cradled your face.
His palm was massive, his skin calloused and burning with a heat that made your breath hitch in your throat. His thumb grazed your cheekbone, trembling just a fraction. The touch was so intimate, so wildly out of place in the middle of a war zone, that the world seemed to tilt on its axis. He looked at you as if you were the only thing in the jungle that wasn't made of shadows and violence.
“You did well,” he rasped, his voice pained and thick. He stared down at you, his blue eye searching yours with an intensity that felt like it was stripping you bare. Then, his jaw tightened, the mentor mask struggling to stay in place. “But do not make me tell you again—stay behind me.”
“So demanding,” you muttered, though your heart was doing backflips against your ribs. “Is this how you treat all your damsels, or am I special?”
“You are a nuisance,” he countered. He pulled his hand away, his fingers brushing against your hair in a slow, reluctant trail that left your skin tingling.
He turned back toward the gate, but the set of his shoulders was tense. He couldn't understand why his heart was racing faster from your gaze than from the battle. He was a god of war; he shouldn't be undone by the way you looked at him through your lashes. He was terrified of the way you made him feel—like he had something to lose again.
You watched his back, biting your lip. He probably just saw you as a responsibility he had to keep alive, a duty he had to fulfill. A king didn't fall for the woman who made jokes about his cape. You forced yourself to focus on the violet sparks at your fingertips, trying to drown out the burning sensation on your cheek where his hand had just been.
“The gate is dead ahead,” he rumbled, not looking back. “Stay close.”
“Right behind you,” you whispered, moving back into his shadow.
Thor made sure the gate ceased to exist. With a single, thunderous overhead swing of Stormbreaker, the reinforced titanium buckled like parchment, shrieking as it was torn from its hinges.
“Disrupt the internal shielding!” Thor roared over the alarms. “Now, Little One!”
You didn't need to be told twice. You sprinted past him into the main foyer, your hands glowing a deep, violent amethyst. The facility's defense grid was humming, a translucent blue shimmer of Chitauri energy blocking the path to the core. You slammed your hands against the floor, let out a jagged breath, and funneled everything you had into the ground.
The violet energy raced forward like lightning, clashing with the blue shield in a spray of white-hot sparks. The friction of the two powers meeting sent a shockwave back toward you, nearly knocking you off your feet.
Suddenly, a heavy, solid weight pressed against your back. Thor had moved up behind you, his chest flush against your shoulder blades, his massive hand coming down over your shoulder to steady your aim. The heat of him was staggering, a living furnace in the middle of the cold, sterile lab.
“Hold the line,” he growled into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “I am here. Do not let it break you.”
With his strength anchoring you, you let out a scream of effort and pushed. The blue shield shattered like glass.
“Shield's down!” you panted, your knees buckling for a second.
Thor’s arm hooked around your waist instantly, hoisting you back up before you could hit the floor. For a split second, he held you tight against his side, his fingers digging into the fabric of your tactical suit. He looked down at you, his face splattered with soot, his eyes searching yours with a raw, desperate relief that he quickly tried to smother.
“Can you walk?” he asked, his voice a rough, private rasp.
“I can run,” you joked weakly, trying to ignore how his thumb was tracing the curve of your hip through the gear. “Just... maybe don't make me do the exploding walls thing for another five minutes.”
He didn't let go immediately. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then snapped back to the hallway ahead where more sentries were closing in. “Stay behind me,” he repeated, but this time it didn't sound like a command. It sounded like a plea.
As you moved toward the gravity core, the narrow corridors forced you together. Every time a blast shook the facility, you were thrown against him. Your hand would find the small of his back; his arm would find your shoulders. Every touch was a jolt, a burning friction that made the actual combat feel like a secondary concern.
You ducked behind a console as a hail of pulse-fire swept the room. Thor stood over you, Stormbreaker spinning in a blur of silver and blue, a literal wall of lightning protecting you.
“You know,” you yelled over the deafening crack of his axe hitting a sentry, “if you wanted to be this close to me, you could have just asked for my number like a normal person!”
Thor slammed the butt of Stormbreaker into the floor, a wave of electricity clearing the room. He turned to you, a stray spark of blue dancing in his hair.
“I have no need for numbers, nuisance,” he muttered, reaching down to haul you up. But as he pulled you close, his hand lingered on your forearm, his skin searing against yours. He leaned in, his face inches from yours. “And you are far from a normal person.”
He let go abruptly, turning back to the heavy blast doors of the core, but you stayed there for a second, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm. He was terrified of how much he wanted to protect you, and you were terrified that he only saw a girl who needed saving.
The gravity core pulsed with an unstable light, the air vibrating so violently it made your teeth ache. Steve’s voice crackled over the comms, strained: “Thor, Sparky—the containment field is failing. If that core blows, the entire basin goes with it. You have to stabilize it now.”
Thor looked at the swirling vortex, then at you. His eyes were dark with a conflict you couldn't read. “Can you do it?”
"I—“ you gulped, “I think so,” you whispered. You stepped forward, thrusting your hands toward the core. The violet energy erupted, it tore out of you like a scream, linking your nervous system directly to the Chitauri tech. For a moment, you held it. The shield stabilized. But then, the feedback hit.
A massive surge of raw, unfiltered power slammed back into your chest. You were thrown through the air like a ragdoll, hitting the reinforced bulkhead with a sickening thud. A sharp, white-hot agony flared in your ribs, and the world splintered into a thousand jagged pieces. You tried to breathe, but your lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass.
“No!” Thor’s roar was louder than the sirens.
He was at your side in a heartbeat, Stormbreaker clattering to the floor as he slid into the grime. He gathered you into his lap, his massive hands trembling as he framed your face. You let out a broken whimper, your head lolling against his bicep.
“Sweet girl? No, no, look at me. Open your eyes,” he pleaded.
Blood trickled from a cut on your forehead, blurring your vision. Every breath was a fresh wave of torture, a barbed lump in your throat that made you want to scream, but you couldn't find the air.
“Thor...” you wheezed, your fingers feebly clutching at the cold metal of his chest plate. “It hurts—“ you gasped, “it hurts so much.”
“I am here. I have you,” he mumbled, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead against yours. His thumb frantically wiped at the blood on your skin, his touch a desperate, burning friction against your cold skin. “Stay with me, darling. Please. Stay with me.”
The sound of heavy boots echoed—Hydra reinforcements, dozens of them, closing in on the wounded God and the girl dying in his arms.
Thor’s head snapped up. The grief in his eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, white-hot vacuum of rage. He gently lowered your head to the floor, his fingers lingering on your cheek for one last second.
“Do not close your eyes,” he commanded softly. Then he stood.
He became a cataclysm. Stormbreaker glowed with a blinding, celestial light as he leapt into the center of the room. Every swing was a thunderclap that shook the very foundations of the earth. He leveled the reinforcements in seconds, then turned his fury on the facility itself. Lightning channeled through the floor, shattering the gravity core and vaporizing the walls. By the time the rest of the Avengers burst into the room, there was nothing left but a smoking crater and Thor, standing in the center of the ruins, cradling you against his chest again.
“Thor! What happened?” Steve shouted, running toward the wreckage. Tony landed nearby, his faceplate disappearing. “Kid? Is she okay? Bruce, get the med-vac ready, we'll get her to the Compound—“
“No.” The word was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through your aching body. Thor didn't look up at any of his friends. He held you so tight it was as if he were trying to merge your bodies, his heart hammering against your ear.
“She needs the cradle, Thor, she's internal—“ Tony started, stepping forward.
“I said no!” Thor snapped, his blue eyes flashing with lethal lightning. He looked down at your pale face, his heart twisting with a guilt that felt like a blade.
This was his fault. He had let his blind jealousy, the petty fear of losing you to someone else, cloud his judgment. He had allowed you into a war zone when you weren't ready, just to keep you under his wing where he could watch you.
“I will not leave her life to your Midgardian trinkets,” Thor rasped, his voice thick with self-loathing. “I am the reason she bleeds. I will take her to my people in New Asgard. They have remedies older than your civilization. They will fix what I have broken.”
“Thor, wait—“ Steve began, but it was useless.
Thor didn't wait for permission. He called to the heavens, the Bifrost light beginning to hum around you both. He looked down at you, his fingers grazing your throat one last time, feeling the stutter of your pulse.
“I have you, sweet girl,” he whispered into your hair, his voice a broken promise. “I will never let you go again.”
In a flash of rainbow light, the Amazon jungle vanished, replaced by the salt-spray air and the rugged, comforting cliffs of New Asgard.
Thor didn’t stop to greet his subjects; he moved through the streets of New Asgard like a force of nature, his boots cracking the stone beneath him.
”Quickly, send healers to my estate!” he roared, his voice booming across the harbor. His people didn't even have time to celebrate the return of their King; the raw, bleeding desperation in his tone sent them into a frantic scramble.
Brunnhilde ran over to him, her brows furrowed as she struggled to match his relentless pace. “What’s going on? Who is she? What happened?” she asked, her eyes darting to your limp, broken form in his arms.
“Me happened,” Thor responded, his voice a desperate edge of self-loathing. He didn't look at her, his eyes fixed solely on your pale face. “I break every single person I get near.”
Inside your head, the world was a cacophony of white noise. Your ears were ringing so loud that the King’s shouts and the sounds of the bustling village were muffled, distant. The only thing that felt real was the heat radiating from him. With an effort that felt like lifting a mountain, you managed to bring your hand up. Your fingers, stained with dirt, found the scruff of his jaw.
“Thor,” you whispered, your eyes glazed over, struggling to find his amidst the blur of gold and blue.
He turned his attention back to you immediately, the storm in his expression breaking for a fraction of a second. “Yes, my sweet, sweet girl,” he said, his voice dropping into a tender, broken rasp as he instinctively leaned his face into your palm. The contact was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
He would not lose you. He refused to let the universe take one more thing from him.
When your eyes began to flutter shut and your head lolled against his chest, a fresh wave of panic surged through him. He turned his face into your hand, his lips pressing a lingering, desperate kiss against the inside of your wrist. It was the last thing you felt—the ghost of his warmth and the scratch of his beard—and a small, faint smile touched your lips just as the world finally faded into total darkness.
—
Your eyes fluttered open, the world blurry at the edges as the last remnants of sleep fell away. “She is stable, though she needs to be careful. Her injuries were severe; we managed to fix a few but not all. Our magic will linger in her, fixing her. Try not to have her do too much, Your Majesty.” The voice was unfamiliar—calm and clinical. As your senses returned, you felt a firm, heavy hold on your hand.
“Thank you,” came Thor’s voice, deep and sandpaper-rough. You heard the soft thud of footsteps slowly fading away as the healer left the room.
You tried to shift, but the movement sent a dull, throbbing ache radiating through your body. It wasn't the splintering agony of the jungle, but every single bone in your body seemed to hum with a quiet, persistent pain. You blinked, trying to take in your surroundings. The ceiling was made of heavy timber, and the air was cool.
“Where are we?” your voice cracked, sounding like dry leaves skipping across stone.
Thor’s hand, which had been a steady, grounding weight over yours, tightened instantly. His other hand moved to the top of your head, his fingers grazing through your hair with a tenderness that made your heart stutter more than any injury ever could.
“We are at New Asgard, honey,” he whispered, the endearment slipping out as naturally as a breath. “How are you feeling?”
You took a slow, cautious breath. Every inch of your skin felt sensitive, a lingering hum of Asgardian magic working beneath the surface to knit your muscle and bone back together. “I am better, thank you,” you said, forcing a small smile as you turned your hand within his, gripping him back. The warmth of his palm was the only thing that felt truly solid in the room.
“How long have we been here?” you asked, your eyes searching his.
“A day,” he mumbled.
His eyes were bloodshot, the dark circles beneath them telling a story of a man who hadn't closed his eyes once since the Bifrost had landed. He looked disheveled.
“You stood by my side all that time?” you asked, your voice softening in disbelief.
“No need for silly questions, of course I did, darling,” he said, his thumb beginning a slow, rhythmic stroke across your knuckles. He leaned forward, his forehead nearly touching yours, his voice dropping into a low, fiercely protective register. “I was not going to leave you. Not after what I allowed to happen.”
The guilt in his voice was a barbed lump, thick and heavy. He looked at your bandaged frame and then back to your eyes, a silent war raging behind his blue gaze. He wanted to tell you he was sorry—that he was a fool for letting his own selfish desire to keep you close put you in the line of fire—but the words seemed trapped behind the sheer relief of seeing you awake.
“You look so pale,” he whispered, his hand moving from your hair to cup your jaw, his touch burning like a brand. “I thought… for a moment in that forest, I thought the light had gone out of the world.”
Your thumb grazed his knuckles, your body moving on autopilot. Even through the haze of pain and the dull throb in your ribs, your first instinct was to soothe the tremor in his hands.
“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, your voice still a bit airy. “I would have wanted to come to the mission anyway. Even if you didn’t approve of it.” You managed a broken, tired smirk, your eyes searching his. “You know, I’ve noticed I can make almost anyone say yes to me.”
Thor gulped, his thumb pausing its rhythm on your cheek as he looked at you with a gaze so heavy it felt like a scorching iron. “You do have that effect on people, yes,” he admitted, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the exhaustion on his face.
The moment was intimate, the air between you thick with everything that hadn't been said, until the heavy wooden door creaked open.
“Still moping, Your Majesty?”
Brunnhilde walked in, her gait confident and effortless. She looked like she belonged in this world in a way you weren't sure you ever could. She walked straight over to the bed, her eyes scanning your form with a professional, yet slightly amused, curiosity.
“The healers say she’s made of tougher stuff than she looks,” she said, before turning her attention to Thor. She reached out, casually wrapping her arm around his broad shoulders and leaning some of her weight against him.
Your mind went completely blank. The warmth you’d felt moments ago evaporated, replaced by a cold, sharp pang in your chest that had nothing to do with your injuries. You watched the way she stood so close to him, the ease with which she touched him—a familiarity that only came from years of... what?
Who was she?
You looked at Thor, but he didn't pull away. He just stood there, letting her hang off him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A sickening thought spiraled through your head: Has he had a lover all this time? Did the petnames mean nothing more than a king being kind to a stray he’d picked up?
You felt your hand twitch in his, suddenly wanting to pull away, to hide yourself under the covers and disappear. The pain in your body was nothing compared to the sudden realization that you might have completely misread the storm in his eyes. A small, desperate part of you had hoped those pet names and the way he’d cradled your face in the mud meant something more than duty. But seeing her arm draped so comfortably over him, you felt the cold reality sink in. You were a trainee, a mortal flicker; she was a woman of his own kind. You already knew he’d never look at you like that, but seeing the ease of their connection made the ache in your chest sharper than the break in your ribs.
“Oh, good! You’re not dead. That’s a real plus for the team morale!”
The new voice was deep, gravelly, and strangely cheerful. You turned your head—wincing as the movement pulled at your neck—and saw a towering mass of blue rocks lumbering toward the bed. Every step he took resulted in a series of rhythmic clacks and thuds that echoed off the timber walls.
Your eyebrows furrowed in genuine bewilderment, your mind momentarily jolting away from the agonizing sight of beside you.
“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” you blurted out, a weak, bewildered laugh bubbling up. “Did a mountain range decide to grow legs and start talking?”
The rock creature didn't seem offended at all. He waved a massive stony hand. “Common mistake! I’m Korg. I’m made of rocks, as you can see, but don’t let that intimidate you. Unless you’re made of scissors. Then we might have a bit of a rock-paper-scissors situation on our hands, which is never fun for the scissors.”
Despite the dull throb in your side and the heavy weight in your heart, you couldn't help it. A genuine, wide grin broke across your face at the sheer absurdity of his voice and his gentle demeanor. “Oh my god, I love you,” you said, leaning back into the pillows, trying to ignore the way Thor’s hand was still holding yours while his other shoulder supported her. “You're so precious.”
You kept your eyes fixed on Korg, pouring all your energy into the conversation, terrified that if you looked back at Thor, he’d see the cracks in your expression. You were determined to tear your attention away from the man whose touch still burned your skin, even if it meant falling in love with a talking pile of rocks just to survive the afternoon.
“Oh, you are a fast lady,” Korg said, his rocky face shifting into what passed for a bashful expression. “Though I can certainly see myself falling in love with yo—“
Thor’s hand tightened on yours with a sudden, bone-crushing intensity. His head snapped toward Korg, his eyes flashing with a sudden, stormy blue light. “Let’s not get over our heads here,” he said, his voice dropping into a dangerously deep rumble that made the loose items on the bedside table rattle.
You turned your head toward him, finding the sheer suddenness of his irritation hilarious despite the lump in your throat. “Why are you standing between me and my great love right now?” you asked, amusement dancing in your eyes.
Thor’s attention snapped back to you, his jaw tight enough to crack stone. He didn't look amused. He looked feral. “Do not piss me off,” he rumbled, the room suddenly smelling of rain. “You just woke up.”
Your smile faltered. The playful light in your eyes died down as you realized he wasn't just being dramatic—he was actually pissed. But the logic didn't track. He had her practically draped over him, yet he was growling at a pile of rocks for making a joke?
He’s just being a King, you reminded yourself, the cold weight returning to your stomach. He was possessive of his subjects, and right now, you were a broken project he felt responsible for. He didn't want you; he just didn't want his things touched.
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the sting of that thought. “You are no fun, Thunder-Thighs.”
She let out a sudden, sharp cackle that broke the tension, her arm still hooked over Thor's shoulder as she looked at you with newfound respect. “I actually like her. Can we keep her?”
She shifted, finally releasing Thor and stepping closer to the bed. She extended a hand toward you, her grip looking like it could snap a sword in half. “I am Brunnhilde.”
Can we keep her? The phrase echoed in your mind. As if you were a new pet for the royal court. You reached out, your fingers feeling small and fragile against her warrior-calloused palm, and gave it a weak shake.
“It's nice meeting you, you can call me Sparky.” you mumbled, your voice losing its edge. You looked from her to Thor, the two of them standing together like pillars of Asgardian history, and you felt smaller than ever. You were just a girl in a room full of legends, and no amount of sweet pet names from Thor was going to change the fact that you didn't belong in their world.
You needed to get away from this view—the ease of Brunnhilde’s touch, the way they stood together, the crushing reminder of where you stood in his hierarchy.
“I want a tour of New Asgard,” you said, your voice gaining a bit of false bravado. You looked at Thor, the smirk returning to your face as a shield. “Wanna see if there’s more of you where you come from.”
Thor’s eyes slid shut, his jaw working as if he were trying to grind his teeth into dust.
Absolutely not.
The sight of you flirting with a literal pile of rocks was already enough to make him lose his composure; he could feel the lightning buzzing under his skin, a restless, jealous hum. The thought of you wandering the village, throwing that same devastating smile at his subjects—his men subjects—was intolerable.
“No,” he said, his voice flat and absolute.
You gasped, playing up the indignation. “Why not? I do wanna see some Asgardian men—”
Thor’s grip on your hand tightened instantly, his fingers nearly bruising. He leaned in, his shadow falling over you, his blue eye burning with a dark, possessive heat. “You will not be leaving this room for eternity if you keep talking like that.”
Oh.
The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out. He was so incredibly hot when he was like this—possessive, looming, and clearly fighting a losing battle with his own restraint. You tilted your head down, looking up at him through your lashes, letting that innocent gaze of yours do the work for you.
“Why not, big guy?” you asked, your voice dropping into a soft, teasing hum. “But I really want to see.”
Thor’s breath hitched in his throat. He looked at your lips, then back to your eyes, his resolve crumbling like the facility back in the jungle. He was the King of Asgard, a God of Thunder, yet he was completely defenseless against a single look from you.
“Fine,” he grumbled, his shoulders dropping in defeat. He couldn't say no to that face, even if it meant he’d have to spend the entire afternoon glaring at every man who dared to look in your direction.
Brunnhilde let out another cackle, leaning back against the wall with an amused smirk. “Good luck, Majesty. You're going to need a bigger axe to keep the suitors away. If there is one bigger than the one you already have.”
Thor didn't respond to her. He just reached down, his hand sliding from your knuckles to your forearm, his touch still burning like a brand. “But I am the one taking you,” he added, his voice possessive. “And you stay within my reach. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I promise I won’t leave your side,” you said, a grin of victory overtaking your face.
You knew your puppy-dog gaze was your secret weapon, but as Thor began to help you up, a flicker of confusion crossed your mind. Why did Brunnhilde say good luck like that? If they were a couple, why was she just standing there cackling while her man acted like a possessive dragon over another girl? You shook the thought away—Asgardian couples were clearly built different.
“Come on then, let’s go,” Thor said. His movements were agonizingly careful. One hand gripped your elbow, steadying your frame, while his other hand slid firmly around your waist to hoist you from the bed. The heat from his palm through your attire made your heart beat so fast you were worried the healers would hear it from the other room.
The torture began the second you stepped outside. The salt air hit your face, and your eyes wandered over the rugged beauty of New Asgard. It was a picturesque, bustling village, but your attention was quickly snatched by a man walking toward the docks. He was tall, with long, golden hair caught in the wind and a thick, groomed beard. He looked remarkably like the old version of Thor—the one you’ve seen from the screens.
You didn't hide it. You looked him up and down appreciatively, a slow smirk spreading across your lips. It was official: you definitely had a type. Nobody could truly be Thor—no man on Earth or Asgard could come close to the God of Thunder beside you—but this guy was a very, very solid runner-up.
Beside you, the air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Thor’s gaze locked onto the man with the ferocity of a predator. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you an inch closer to his hip, marking his territory in front of half the village.
“All-Fathers, give me strength,” Thor mumbled under his breath, his knuckles turning white as he prayed for the patience not to smite his own subject where he stood.
You turned your head back to him, your eyes dancing with mischief. “I couldn’t quite catch that,” you said innocently. “Did you say something, or were you just admiring the scenery too? Because the view out here is excellent.”
He looked down at you, his blue eye burning with a mixture of raw jealousy and a protective instinct so strong it was almost vibrating. “The view is treacherous,” he rumbled, his voice dropping an octave as he steered you firmly in the opposite direction of the blond Asgardian. “And you are supposed to be resting your eyes. Perhaps I should carry you back inside if they are going to wander so much.”
“Do not dare!” You rolled your eyes, a light giggle escaping you as you leaned slightly into the support of his arm. “I am merely admiring the view, big guy. Don't be ridiculous.”
He was being ridiculous. He knew it. He had no claim on you, no right to feel this possessive surge that made his blood boil every time your eyes lingered on another man. In his mind, he told himself it was absurd to pursue anything—you were a mortal, a flicker of light in his long, shadowed history. But as he looked down at the top of your head, a darker, more primitive part of him—the side of him that had conquered realms and held thrones—was whispering. Hide her. Do not let her look at another. Own her until she forgets any other man even draws breath.
He felt the roar of that possessive instinct in his chest, and before he could think, the words tumbled out.
“I am a view to be admired too,” he rumbled, his voice low and thick. “Why won't you admire me?”
The moment the question left his lips, Thor closed his eyes, a wave of internal swearing following it. He was going to ruin everything. He was a King, a warrior, and here he was, practically begging for your attention like a petulant boy.
You turned your head toward him so fast the world did a little spin, forcing you to grip his arm tighter to stay upright. Your heart was thundering against your ribs. What is wrong with him? you thought, a flash of irritation warring with the sudden, sharp heat in your cheeks. How could he ask that? He was a god, he had Brunnhilde, and he definitely didn't have feelings for you. He had to be playing—mocking you, even.
You gulped, trying to keep your voice steady as you forced a meek smile. “Who says I don’t?” you joked back.
But the words felt heavy, lacking the punch of a real joke. It wasn't a joke—not to you. You admired him every single second you were in his presence, from the way his muscles shifted to the way he looked when he thought no one was watching.
Thor opened his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you so close that you could feel the rhythmic thud of his heart—a heavy, steady hammer against your side.
She cannot mean that. The thought raced through his mind, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Did she mean that? For a moment, he couldn't breathe, the sheer weight of your words taking the air out of his lungs. He searched your expression for the punchline, for the quick-witted retort that usually followed your barbs. Surely you were joking, just as you usually did to keep him on his toes. He smiled nervously, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he finally averted his gaze, looking out toward the horizon.
“I am honored, honey,” he murmured, his voice slightly strained. “I too... admire you.”
Before the silence could get too heavy, he started hauling you over toward a row of shops, his grip on your waist firm as he guided your unsteady steps. Your heart stuttered. You knew he wasn't being serious, he couldn't be, but the mere possibility of him admiring you made your chest ache with a bittersweet longing. You were just a woman from Midgard; he was a legend carved from lightning.
As you walked, your attention was caught by a group of Asgardian women sitting on a low stone wall. They were giggling, their fingers moving with practiced grace as they braided each other's hair, weaving small silver charms into the strands. They were applying iridescent pigments to their eyelids, their laughter ringing out like bells in the crisp air. They looked so effortless, so full of life and sisterhood. Your heart soared at the sight. It was so far removed from the cold steel of the facility or the mud of the jungle.
Thor noticed the way your pace slowed, his gaze following yours to the circle of women. “You want to join them?” he asked, his voice softening.
You looked up at him, your eyes wide. You wanted to, more than anything, but the sudden surge of self-consciousness held you back. You were covered in the faint remnants of grime, your hair was a mess from the battle, and you felt like an intruder in their perfect world.
“I don’t know... would it be weird?” you asked, your voice small.
Thor looked down at you, his expression melting into something so incredibly tender it made your knees weak. He reached up, his thumb grazing your temple to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Not at all, darling,” he said, a proud smile tugging at his lips. Without another word, he turned his steps toward the women, his hand remaining possessively at your waist as he led you into their circle, determined to give you even a moment of the peace you had bled for.
The women rose instantly, their laughter quieting into a gesture of deep respect as they bowed the moment they saw their King.
“Would you be so kind as to let my friend here join you ladies for a while?” Thor asked, his voice booming with a warmth that made the women beam.
They welcomed you immediately, pulling you into their circle with eager hands. For the next hour, the war and the pain felt a lifetime away. You leaned back, closing your eyes as one of the women began to weave a complex, delicate braid through your hair, her fingers light and nimble. Another sat beside you, carefully applying a shimmering, iridescent lip gloss that tasted like wild berries. You swapped stories, learning their names and laughing as they told you about the quirks of living in New Asgard. You were finally at peace.
Thor didn't move far. He stood a few paces away, leaning against a weathered wooden post, his arms crossed over his massive chest. He was watching you. His heart soared at the sight of you in sync with his people, your laughter blending perfectly with theirs. A wholehearted, genuine smile broke across his face, one that reached his eyes and stayed there. Seeing you like this, safe and glowing, felt like the greatest victory he’d ever won.
When it was finally time to go, you found yourself hugging the girls, tapping your phone number into their devices and promising to show them Midgardian glam next time. You thanked them for the girly experience, your face flushed with a genuine happiness that hadn't been there since before the mission.
Then, you turned and walked over to him.
Thor’s breath caught in his throat, a hitch that made his chest tighten. You looked so breathtakingly beautiful that it felt like a blow to his solar plexus. The intricate braids framed your face perfectly, making your features pop, and the way you smiled—wide and triumphant—made his head spin.
But it was your lips that did him in. The gloss shimmered in the sun, making them look soft, wet, and utterly inviting. He stared at you, his pulse thundering in his ears, feeling like he was about to die from the sheer, overwhelming force of wanting to close the distance between you.
“How do I look, big guy?” you asked, spinning in a small circle, your eyes bright.
Thor couldn't speak for a second. He just stood there, his blue eye fixed on the shimmer of your lips, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch the braids he’d just watched being made. He felt like he was drowning in the sight of you.
“You look—” he started, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that he couldn't quite control. “You look like a Queen of the Stars.”
He cradled your face, “Thank you,” you managed to breathe. You looked up at him, your eyes wide and searching, oblivious to the way the light in your veins was beginning to pulse in sync with the heavy thud of his heart.
Thor stared down at you, his thumb hooked under your chin, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of your throat.
She cannot be real, he thought, his chest tight with a hunger that felt both holy and devastating. She was made to undo me.
Then, the world seemed to tilt. He moved his thumb, dragging the pad of it slowly across the plush curve of your lower lip. He caught the shimmering, wet gloss, his touch searing, and then—with a deliberation that made your knees buckle—he brought his thumb to his own mouth.
He tasted it. He fucking tasted it.
He closed his eyes, humming a low, resonant sound as he sucked the tip of his thumb, his jaw working as he savored the sweetness of the gloss and the essence of you.
Your mouth fell open, your breath hitching in a broken sob of shock.
The God of Thunder, the King of Asgard, was standing in the middle of New Asgard, tasting your lip gloss like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
It was the most intimate, most improper, most exhilarating thing you had ever witnessed.
“You like it?” you whispered, your voice trembling and soft, barely audible over the hum of the people chattering in the streets. Thor opened his eyes, the blue of them dark and turbulent, like a sea before a hurricane. He let his hand drop from your chin, but he didn't move back.
He stayed in your space, his heat a physical wall. “I do,” he rasped, his voice dropping an octave until it was a rough, velvet growl. “It tastes exactly as I imagined.”
The world spun. He had imagined it. He had looked at your mouth and wondered what you tasted like.
Thor’s world narrowed until it was nothing but the heat radiating off your skin and the salt-tinged breeze of the harbor. When you took his forearms in your hands, your fingers curling around the thick, corded muscle of his limbs, his entire body went rigid. The pulse in your veins felt like it was humming directly against his palms, a rhythmic, electric tether binding your souls together in the middle of the crowded street.
“Would you like another taste?” you whispered. The question was a spark in a room full of gunpowder. Thor’s pupils dilated until the blue of his eyes was almost entirely swallowed by a predatory, desperate black. His heart slammed against his ribs—a frantic, heavy thunder that you could feel vibrating through his arms.
He didn't answer with words. He couldn't.
His hands moved from your face to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips with a possessive strength that pulled you flush against him. There was no space left between you, no air, no logic. He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours for a fraction of a second, his ragged breath ghosting over your dampened lips.
“You have no idea,” he rasped, the vibration of his voice rattling in your chest, “what you are asking of me.” He tilted his head, his gaze dropping back to your mouth, watching the way the shimmering gloss caught the golden sun. There was a raw, starving hunger in his gaze that had been building since the moment he first saw you. He leaned in until his lips were a mere hair's breadth from yours, pausing there in the agonizing friction of the almost. He let out a low, shaky exhale, his nose brushing against yours.
“If I start,” he groaned, his voice a rough, velvet warning against your mouth, “I will not be able to stop. I will consume you, sweet girl.”
Your grip on his forearms tightened, your nails biting into his skin as you pulled him that final, impossible inch.
When his lips finally crashed against yours, it wasn't the gentle kiss of a king; it was the crash of two storms. He tasted like rain and desperation, his mouth moving over yours with a frantic, soul-searing intensity. His tongue swept across your lower lip, reclaiming the sweetness of the gloss and replacing it with the heat of his own fire.
The world around you—the shops, the shouting children, the presence of Brunnhilde somewhere in the distance—completely vanished. He was consuming you, his left hand anchoring your waist while his right firmly gripped the back of your neck, fingers tangling into the fresh braids to pull you impossibly flush against him. Your own hands found his firm shoulders, gripping onto the rough fabric of his tunic for dear life as you stood on your tiptoes to meet him.
You forgot where you were. You forgot to breathe. You forgot your own name.
There was only the taste of him and the way his massive body felt pressed against yours like a shield and a cage all at once. Your heart sang at the contact, a wild, soaring melody that reached a crescendo in your chest.
You were hopelessly in love with him.
Love. The word struck you with the force of a thunderclap, clearing the fog of passion just long enough for a single image to flash in your mind: Brunnhilde.
Her arm wrapped around his shoulder. Her cackle. The ease between them.
You parted away from him so fast it was like a train had hit you. Your boots stumbled back on the uneven stones, and your breath came in ragged, panicked hitches. The reality of the street rushed back—the whispers of the townspeople who had stopped to stare at their King, the judgment in the air.
“What’s wrong?” Thor asked, his voice thick and dazed. He reached out for you, his gaze clouded with a raw, lingering hunger, looking completely unmoored.
Your heart sank into your stomach, heavy as lead. “How could we?” you asked, your voice trembling.
You looked at him—at the King of Asgard—and the weight of what you'd just done felt like it was crushing your lungs. How could you let this happen? You were helping him betray the life he had built here, the woman who stood by his side.
Thor froze. He saw the horror in your eyes, the way you were looking at him as if he were a stranger. His mind raced, misinterpreting every second of your silence. He saw the way you recoiled, the way you looked at him with what he could only perceive as regret—or worse, fear.
He thought he had failed you. He thought he had taken advantage of your recovery, using his power and your vulnerability to force a moment you didn't actually want. He thought he had creeped you out, becoming the very monster he feared he was.
He cleared his throat then, the sound sharp and sudden, as if he were trying to shake off a spell. He stepped back just an inch—enough for you to breathe, but not enough for you to feel safe. He had fucked it up. He had fucked it all up.
“Forgive me,” his voice was pained, strained through a throat that looked like it was choking on his own heartbeat. “I do not know what came over me. It was… unseemly. I have misread the situation entirely.”
He took his hands off of you as if your very skin had turned into white-hot iron, burning him. You stumbled backwards, your skin still flaming where his hands—his lips—had been.
“Unseemly,” you repeated, the word tasting like ash. You thought he was regretting the betrayal; he thought he was apologizing for being a predator.
“I have taken advantage of your state,” he rasped, refusing to meet your eyes now, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder at the churning grey sea. “I am your mentor. I am responsible for your safety. Please... forget my conduct. It will not happen again.”He looked at his hands and clenched them into white-knuckled fists, the silence between you opening up like a vast, yawning chasm.
“I—“ You gulped, the word sticking in your throat as you looked at his boots, unable to meet that turbulent blue gaze. “I would like to go back to the Compound now.”
Thor nodded, the movement stiff and formal. “Okay.”
He extended his hand toward you, his palm open but his eyes fixed firmly on the horizon behind you. With his other hand, he reached out and summoned Stormbreaker; the weapon flew into his grip with a heavy, metallic thud that echoed through the quiet street. You took his hand, your own fingers trembling so violently you were sure he could feel the vibration of your bones.
Thor felt that tremble. He closed his eyes for a fleeting second, his jaw tightening as if he were bracing for a blow. He didn't say a word, but he pulled you closer—careful to keep a professional distance this time—and held Stormbreaker aloft.
The rainbow light of the Bifrost engulfed you, and for a heartbeat, you were suspended in a roar of color and sound. Then, the familiar concrete of the Avengers Compound floor was beneath your feet.
The moment the light faded, you scrambled away from him, your hand dropping his as if his touch had become toxic. Steve and Natasha were there in an instant, having been waiting on the landing pad. They looked at each other, their expressions shifting from relief to concern the moment they saw the wreckage of your expression.
“Are you okay, doll?” Steve asked, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to steady you. You nodded mindlessly, not trusting your voice, not looking back at the God of Thunder standing like a statue behind you.
You reached the safety of your room, slamming the door shut and locking it with a trembling hand. You didn't make it to the bed; you slid down against the wood, pulling your knees to your chest. The silence of the quarters pressed in on you, heavy and suffocating.
You looked at your phone lying on the bed. The agent’s number was still there in your messages. A human. Someone who wouldn't look at you like a regret. Someone who was available, who didn't have a warrior-queen waiting for him or a thousand years of baggage.
You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, your chest aching with a crushing weight that made it hard to draw a full breath. You were going on that date. You didn’t want to—not really—but the storm of what had happened in New Asgard was too much to bear alone. You needed to feel seen by someone who wasn't apologizing for wanting you.
—
The next morning, your head was thudding with a dull, rhythmic ache that had nothing to do with your injuries and everything to do with the heavy silence of your quarters. You didn’t want to go to the common room. You didn’t want to see him, to look into that single blue eye and see the regret reflecting back at you. You wanted nothing to do with him.
You reached for your phone, your thumb hovering over the agent’s name. You sent the text. He replied almost instantly—he wanted to take you out tonight. You agreed, the hollow victory of the date feeling like a bitter pill to swallow.
You got up and got ready for breakfast nonetheless, masking your exhaustion with a sharp look that felt more like armor than an outfit. You made your way toward the common room, and the air immediately felt thick, charged with the same tension that had nearly snapped yesterday.
Your gaze found him instantly. Thor was sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, his massive hands wrapped around a coffee mug that looked fragile in his grip. He was gazing mindlessly at the far wall, his expression vacant and haunted. He felt you enter; you saw his shoulders tighten, his posture becoming even more rigid, but he didn’t turn around.
You didn’t say a word. You walked straight to the coffee machine, the silence in the room deafening.
Tony, Natasha, Steve, Bruce, and Rocket were all gathered at the table, exchanging looks that practically screamed, What the hell? The men all pointed subtly toward you and then toward Thor, gesturing wildly to Natasha as if to say Fix it.
Natasha shook her head exasperatedly, pushing off from the table and making her way toward you. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” she asked, her voice low but sharp.
You gave her a dry side-eye as you waited for your cup to fill. “Good morning, Nat.”
She didn’t back off. She stepped into your personal space, narrowing her eyes. “Thor has been staring at nothing for an hour now, and you are being awfully quiet.”
Your body locked, your shoulders tightening to match his. “What makes you say something happened?”
“It’s obvious. Spill it.”
You looked down at the counter, the steam from the coffee hitting your face. “We kissed,” you muttered, the admission feeling like a confession. She kept looking at you, waiting for more. When you didn't continue, you felt a surge of indignation. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she looking at you like you were the problem?
“And he already has a partner?” you said, your voice dripping with disbelief. “He’s a King, Nat. He has responsibilities. He has her.” Only then did Natasha’s expression change. Her eyebrows knitted together in genuine confusion. “What are you talking about? He’s not in a relationship. He hasn’t been for years.”
Your own eyebrows furrowed. The world seemed to stall. “What? What about Brunnhilde?”
Natasha actually let out a dry, huffed laugh. “She’s just his friend. Trust me, she’d be more interested in you anyway. She’s got a liking for women.”
Your whole world tilted upside down. The floor felt like it was falling away, leaving you suspended in a vacuum of your own making. He wasn't a cheater. He wasn't taken.
And the apology, the way he had pulled away like he was a monster... it wasn't about her.
It was only about you.
“But he apologized—”
Natasha shrugged, leaning her hip against the counter with a cool, analytical stare. “He probably thinks you regret the kiss. He's a bit of a dramatic idiot like that.”
“But I don’t— He does,” you said, your heart performing a painful somersault in your chest. You were so confused, the adrenaline from the realization mixing with the lingering sting of his rejection. “And… I have a date tonight.” You turned your gaze toward your hands, unable to look at her anymore.
“What? With who?” Natasha asked, her voice sharpening.
“Just an agent,” you said, keeping the name to yourself as you turned to leave. You didn’t wait for her to respond; you left the room as fast as your legs would carry you. But just as you were stepping into the hallway, you heard her mutter a low, ominous, “Oh, no.”
Back at the table, the boys were still hovering, trying to get Thor to spill the beans. He remained a statue of grief until Natasha marched back over and dropped the bombshell without any preamble. “She thought you were in a relationship with Brunnhilde,” she stated the moment she reached him.
For the first time in an hour, Thor’s gaze snapped away from the wall. The movement was so sudden it almost looked painful. “What?” he boomed, the word vibrating the coffee mugs on the table.
“And now she knows you’re not. You’re welcome,” Natasha said, sliding into her chair with cat-like ease. “Though she now thinks you regret the kiss because of her. Sorry about that one.”
Tony’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “The kiss? You kissed? Since when are we kissing the trainees? Was I not invited to this memo?”
But Thor wasn't hearing a word Tony said. His brain was stuck on the fact that the horror he saw in your eyes wasn't because of him—it was because you thought he was a betrayer.
Then Natasha added the finishing blow. “Oh, and she has a date tonight. With some agent she's been talking to.” Steve’s head snapped toward her, his expression darkening instantly. “A date? She's still recovering. And some of those tactical guys—they aren't exactly looking for a long-term commitment. They can be bad news.”
Thor was plunged into a new kind of trance. This one wasn't silent; it was electric. His jaw tightened so hard his beard bristled. You were going on that date? With a mortal stranger? While you still had the taste of Asgard on your lips?
The air in the common room began to hum with the faint, unmistakable smell of a coming storm. Thor didn't look like a grieving king anymore. He was a god who had just realized he'd almost surrendered his most precious treasure over a misunderstanding.
He was going to explain himself to you, even if you didn’t want him.
—
You locked yourself in your room, the heavy click of the deadbolt echoing the finality of your decision. You needed to drown out the noise—the confusion, the embarrassment, and the lingering heat of Thor’s touch.
You took an everything shower, the steam filling the room as you scrubbed every inch of your skin as if you could wash away the sensation of his hands on your waist.
Afterward, you spent an eternity applying body lotions, the floral scent masking the faint smell of rain that seemed to follow you from New Asgard. You were putting in an incredible amount of effort, but it wasn't for the man waiting for you. It was a distraction, a way to make the hours pass until you didn't have to think anymore.
With your earphones blasting music to drown out the world, you hadn't heard a single thing outside your door. You had no idea that Steve had been hovering in the hallway, his face pinched with worry, or that Natasha had practically tried to pick the lock before giving up in exasperation. To them, you were being stubborn. To you, you were just trying to survive.
You pulled on a black bandeau midi dress that hugged your curves, the dark fabric perfectly complementing your features. It was sleek, sophisticated, and left your shoulders bare. Then, you stepped into your four-inch heels. They were a nightmare to walk in, the thin straps biting into your skin, but they made you feel sharp, and untouchable. You applied the finishing touches of your makeup and a heavy mist of your favorite perfume. You were done.
You picked up your clutch, checking your reflection one last time. You looked good—really good. The shimmering lip gloss was back—a different brand, a different scent, but the memory of Thor’s thumb dragging across your lip flashed in your mind like a lightning strike.
You closed your eyes as you shoved it down.
You took a deep breath opening your eyes back, adjusted the hem of your dress, and finally pulled your earphones out. You looked at your your phone, saw the “I'm outside” text from the agent, and headed for the door. You tried to avoid everyone as you made your way outside to where Agent Vance was waiting.
You didn't see Thor, but he saw you. He had spent the last hour pacing, finally deciding that even if you didn't feel the same, he had to tell you the truth. He wanted to tell you how he’d wanted to kiss you from the very first moment he caught sight of you. He wanted to confess how he had to restrain himself every single time your skin made contact with his during training, how his heart thudded every time he heard your voice, and how he had felt like a predator for harboring such intense feelings for his student. He was in love with you. He had fallen for you hard.
He had been working up the courage to reach your room, to catch you before you could leave, but the sight of you in those heels and that sinful black dress caught him completely off guard. You looked beautiful—like you had stepped right out of his most forbidden fantasies. His heart thudded once against his ribs, and then it sank into his stomach.
You were dressed like this for another man.
Before he could make a move, you were out the door. He watched from the shadows of the corridor as you reached the agent, who gave you a slow, approving look-over that made Thor’s left eye twitch.
He wasn't going to let you be courted by another. He couldn't bear the thought of it. He knew it wasn’t ethical, knew he was being unreasonable, but he had to follow you.
Steve came up right next to him then, his face etched with concern. “What happened? You couldn't make it to her room in time?”
Thor turned toward him, his expression grim. "No," he said simply. With a sharp shake of Stormbreaker, the casual clothes vanished, replaced by the heavy, shimmering plates of his Asgardian armor.
“Who was she with?” Steve asked, peering toward the exit.
“That agent with the brown hair, green eyes. The ugly one,” Thor rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.
“The handsome one?” Steve cut him off, his eyes wide.
Thor gave him a sharp side-eye that could have curdled milk. Steve ignored it, his worry deepening. “Oh, fudge. That guy's the worst. It hasn't been proved yet but he’s got a reputation for—“
Thor didn't let him finish. He didn't need to hear about Vance's reputation; he could already feel the protective, possessive rage bubbling in his blood. He had to find you. Without another word, he lifted Stormbreaker high, the scent of storm exploding in the hallway, and ascended into the sky in a flash of blue light.
The ride in the car was suffocating. Vance kept glancing at your chest as he drove, his eyes lingering far longer than they should have, making you squirm uncomfortably in the leather seat. You adjusted the neckline of your black dress, a cold knot of dread tightening in your stomach.
Had you made a massive mistake?
“Where are we going?” you asked, forcing a small, fragile smile.
“It's a surprise. You'll see,” Vance said, glancing at you with a devilish smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Okay, weird. The creepy vibes were hitting you in waves now, but you tried to bury them deep. You told yourself it was just because you didn't want to be here—because your heart was still back at the Compound with a man who thought he’d offended you.
But then, Vance turned onto a desolate, abandoned street, the streetlights flickering over cracked pavement and empty warehouses.
Your heart started thudding against your chest, a frantic rhythm that made your breath short.
“Wow, if you wanted to murder me, you could have just invited me to a Nickelback concert. It’s cheaper and achieves the same result,” you rambled, the joke slipping out before you could stop it. Like you always did when you were terrified, you were using humor as a shield.
Vance’s brows furrowed, his expression darkening as if your voice was an annoyance. He didn't even crack a smile. He just slowed the car to a halt in front of an ominous, windowless building that looked like it hadn't seen life in decades.
“Get out,” he told you, his voice flat and cold.
Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. This couldn't be happening. You sat frozen, your fingers gripping your clutch so hard your knuckles turned white. When you made no move to leave the safety of the car, Vance’s patience snapped.
He rounded the car and ripped the door open. Before you could even protest, his fingers clamped around your upper arm, his grip so tight it felt like his fingers were sinking into the bone.
“Ow! What the fuck?” you yelled, wincing as he hauled you out of the seat. The four-inch heels made you stumble on the gravel, your ankles nearly snapping as he started dragging you toward the heavy steel doors of the building. “Let go of me! This isn't funny, Vance!”
Your vision glazed over for a second. You knew how to fight back; you had the power humming in your veins, and you’d spent months training for this. But your body betrayed you. You were still weak from your injuries, the Asgardian magic still busy knitting your insides back together. You stumbled, the heels catching on a crack in the pavement.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” you screamed, your voice echoing off the cold concrete.
Vance spun around, his face contorted. “Shut up!” he yelled, and with a sickening force, he slammed you against the brick wall of the building.
The air left your lungs, and your eyebrows furrowed in a flash of pure, unadulterated fury. But as he stepped closer, his shadow swallowing you, he leaned in until you could smell the stale scent of his breath. “Maybe I should just have you right here? In your slutty, tight dress?”
Your blood ran cold. The sheer audacity of his words, the way he looked at you like you were an object to be broken, made your skin crawl.
High above, Thor was a silhouette against the rising darkness. He had been looking for you everywhere, his gaze frantically tracing the city streets like a hawk. Every second you were with that mortal was a second of agony for him.
His blood boiled when he finally caught sight of the car parked in that desolate alley. When he saw the fucker corner you, slamming you against the wall, Thor saw red. He knew you were vulnerable; he knew your body was still fragile from the battle, still healing under the very magic he had gifted you.
The clouds over the city curdled. A violent, deep purple vortex began to spin directly over the warehouse, the rumble of thunder echoing through the buildings like the growl of a dying god.
You looked up, the terror in your chest suddenly replaced by a strange, soaring calm. Above the silhouette of the man threatening you, the sky was glazing over with a familiar, electric wrath. Your heart gave a relieved thud; the primal rumble of the sky was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. He was here.
In a blinding flash of blue light, the air exploded. The pressure change was so sudden it knocked the breath out of Vance. You watched as Thor descended, not like a savior, but like an executioner. He landed ten feet away, the concrete shattering beneath his boots, Stormbreaker humming with a low, lethal vibration in his hand.
His cape billowed in the wind of his own making, and his eyes were glowing, overflowing with the lightning of a thousand storms. He didn't look at Vance. He looked at you, his gaze tracing the bruise already forming on your arm and the way your dress was hitched up from the struggle. The growl that came out of his chest wasn't human. “Get your hands,” Thor rasped, the sky cracking above him in punctuation, “off of her.”
Vance let go of you immediately, stumbling back as the sheer presence of the God of Thunder seemed to suck the oxygen out of the alley. You let out a shaky, relieved breath, standing your ground despite the thudding in your chest and the sting on your arm. You weren't going to let this piece of trash see you crumble.
Thor was a blur of silver and shadow as he strode toward Vance, his hand lashing out to snatch the man by his collar. He lifted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, slamming him back against the same brick wall where you had just been pinned.
“How dare you touch her?!” Thor’s voice rumbled, a low-frequency growl that made the glass in the nearby warehouse windows rattle.
Vance’s eyes widened, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. “She—she was asking for it—I swear—“
Thor’s left hand came up, white-hot static dancing over his knuckles, the air smelling sharply of scorched earth. “You will pay for that,” he rasped, his grip tightening until Vance’s feet dangled uselessly above the gravel.
Then, you turned your head. Through the haze of the storm, you saw a flash of light—a phone lens. A man stood at the end of the alley, recording the entire thing. Your blood ran cold. Without context, this looked like the King of New Asgard assaulting a human civilian. If Thor did something—anything—to Vance right now, the world would call him a murderer.
“Thor!” you yelled, stepping toward him and grabbing his massive bicep. You looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Someone's recording us, stop,” you mumbled, your voice urgent.
He glanced at you, the glowing blue in his eyes flickering but staying bright as he looked back at the man in his grip. “No,” he said, the thunder above echoing his refusal.
You leaned in closer, your thumb soothing the corded muscle of his bicep in a desperate, rhythmic motion. “Please, handsome,” you whispered.
He relaxed then. The static on his knuckles died down, and he dropped Vance to the floor with a heavy, unceremonious thud. Vance huddled on the gravel, gasping for air, but Thor didn't spare him another glance. He turned to you, his arms immediately hauling you into the crushing safety of his embrace, pulling your back against his chest.
“Are you okay, my sweet girl?” he asked, his voice dropping into that tender, gravelly tone. He rested his chin atop your head, one hand soothing over your hair, smoothing the strands that had been ruffled in the scuffle. You nodded, leaning back into the solid heat of his armor. He turned his head toward the man recording in the shadows, his expression shifting back into that of a cold, protective King.
“Go away, mortal,” he rumbled. The command was so absolute, so heavy with divine authority, that the man didn't even hesitate. He tucked his phone away and scrambled into the darkness as fast as his legs would carry him.
Thor turned you around in his arms then, his hands moving to your shoulders, his gaze scanning your face. “I should have never let you leave,” he whispered, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.
The moment of peace was shattered by a sharp scoff from the gravel. Vance was clutching his throat, his face twisted in a sneer. “The slut calls you handsome and you immediately melt,” he spat.
Both of your heads snapped toward him at the same time. Thor let out a low, guttural growl, his grip on Stormbreaker tightening, but before he could move, your own rage boiled over. Your eyes flared with a sudden, violent violet glow. A jagged arc of purple electricity tore through the air, striking Vance square in the chest. He didn't even have time to scream before he slumped over, his body going completely still.
You froze, the static still dancing over your fingertips.
“Why haven't you done that earlier?” Thor grumbled, looking at the man's unmoving body with an entirely unfazed expression.
You turned toward him, your chest heaving. “Because I was paralyzed with shock!” you yelled, the adrenaline finally making your voice crack.
Thor’s expression shifted, the tenderness from a moment ago hardening into something cold and distant. “Let's go,” he said. He turned on his heel, not looking back at you as he began walking toward the exit of the narrow street.
He was moving with purpose, his gaze darkened as he searched for an open space proper enough to summon the Bifrost. His mind was a storm of its own, swirling with the sting of your earlier assumption. How could she think so little of me? To believe I would lead her into such a moment while another woman held my heart? The perceived betrayal of your thoughts felt like a blade between his ribs.
“What's wrong?” you asked, trying to keep up with his long, effortless strides.
He didn't answer. His pace only fastened. “We'll talk later,” he said, his back a wall of shimmering cape and muscle. You hurried after him, the uneven pavement a minefield. “Slow down, Thor!” you gasped. Your heels were a death trap on this terrain, offering zero stability as you tried to match his god-like gait. He still wasn't turning around.
“Will you slow dow—“ Your ankle snapped to the side. You let out a sharp cry as you hit the ground hard, the force of the fall knocking the breath right out of your lungs.
Thor stopped. He closed his eyes for a brief, pained second, a flicker of exasperation crossing his features—how could someone be so clumsy? But the irritation was gone as quickly as it arrived, replaced by a surge of pure panic. He turned toward you instantly, dropping Stormbreaker to the side as he rushed back. His gaze was overflowing with raw concern as he reached for you.
“How do you always manage to fall down?” he asked, his voice a mix of exasperation and genuine worry as he knelt to inspect your ankle.
Your eyes narrowed, the pain in your leg sharpening your tongue. “This one is your fault! Why wouldn't you just slow down?” you yelled at him, gesturing wildly at the desolate street.
“I'm sorry, darling,” he murmured, the sudden softness of the endearment catching you off guard. “You're right.”
Before you could argue further, he locked his left arm under your legs and his right one firmly behind your back, lifting you up bridal style. You gasped, your hands instinctively flying to his neck to steady yourself. Your heart started beating out of your chest; being this close to him, feeling the cold metal of his armor against your skin and the steady thrum of his heartbeat, was overwhelming.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he began walking, eyes scanning for a clearing.
“What?” you asked, breathless.
He looked directly into your eyes, his gaze heavy and knowing. “You fall an awful lot, and I always end up either helping you up or carrying you.”
Your eyes widened, and you immediately averted your gaze, feeling the heat creep up your neck. “No,” you mumbled shyly, though you couldn't help the way your fingers curled slightly into the nape of his hair.
He chuckled—a deep, vibrating sound that you felt in your own chest. He finally found a clear spot and lifted Stormbreaker high, summoning the Bifrost. In a blur of light and sound, the world smeared into colors until the familiar, sterile scent of the Avengers Compound replaced the city grime.
But Thor didn't set you down, he strode through the hallways with a silent, regal determination—his boots echoing against the floor until he came to a stop right in front of his doors. Wait. His doors?
You gazed up at him, your brow furrowed in confusion. “Why are we in front of your quarters?”
He looked at you as he opened the door with one hand while holding you, kicking it open with a heavy thud. “We are going to have a little chat,” he said, his voice dropping into a register that made your skin tingle.
Your throat went bone-dry. This was it. This was where he told you he couldn't train you anymore—that the boundaries had been overstepped and there was no going back. You didn't want to hear his rejection; you didn't want to hear him say it was a mistake.
“No need—“
“Yes, need,” he cut you off, sitting you down firmly on the edge of his bed.
He immediately started pacing the length of the room in front of you, his cape swirling like a storm cloud with every sharp turn. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror facing the bed—your expression was broken, your makeup slightly smudged, looking like a girl who had just survived a wreck.
“You are so irresponsible!” he started yelling, his voice booming in the confined space.
Your eyebrows furrowed, your own temper flickering to life. “How am I irresponsible? I am not a child—“
He held up a finger, a silent command that stopped the words in your throat. “You keep trying me. Let me speak,” he rumbled. You nodded, gulping hard as he turned back to his scolding.
“You go on a date with a bastard like him? You do no background check on the men who you let take you out?!” He ran a hand through his hair, gripping his head as if it were about to explode. “And him? After we kissed?”
He stopped pacing then, looking you dead in the eye. Your breath caught in your throat, the air in the room suddenly feeling very thin. You gulped, “I thought you—“
“I know what you thought, and I am even more mad because of that! No, actually, I’m not mad,” he let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “I’m furious.” Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to hold that intense, electric stare.
“How could you think I could kiss you while I have another’s hands holding mine?” he asked, his voice shaking with the weight of his words. “How could you think me so low of a man that I would betray anyone’s—your trust like that?”
He took a deep breath, stepping into your personal space until his boots were touching your heels. He reached down, his large hand cupping your face and grabbing your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The glow was back in his eyes, but it wasn't the wrath of the storm—it was something far more consuming.
“How could you think I could even look at another woman,” he whispered, his thumb grazing your lower lip, “while there is you?”
Your chest started heaving, the rhythm of your breath erratic as the weight of his words settled over you. His thumb continued its slow, hypnotic soothing over your chin, and he gulped, his gaze anchored to your face. He looked at you with a hunger that was almost painful—taking in your beautiful eyes, your consuming expression, and those lips he had branded just a day before.
“I know you do not want me,” he said, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper. “I know you think I'm a creep—“
“What do you mean? I do not think such a thing,” you interrupted, your eyebrows furrowing in genuine shock. You reached up, your hand covering his as you cradled his palm against your cheek, needing the contact to stay grounded.
“Don't deny it—I know you do,” he mumbled, a flicker of insecurity crossing his rugged features. “But I am consumed by you. Your jokes annoyed me at first, but now they are the only things I want to hear. Your voice soothes my soul; the sight of you makes my heart sing.”
You stopped breathing entirely. The room seemed to shrink until there was nothing but the heat radiating from his body.
“I kissed you and apologized because I thought I had taken advantage of you,” he took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for a rejection that wasn't coming. “I wanted to kiss you since the first time I caught sight of you. I fell for you the first time you talked to me with that vibrant voice of yours.”
The world seemed to tilt. What?
“I love you, Little One.”
You couldn't take one more breath. Your eyes welled up with hot, thick tears that blurred your vision. Through all this time—all the training sessions where you’d felt like a nuisance, all the moments you thought you were just a responsibility—he had loved you?
“Shut up,” you breathed. Before he could respond, you reached up and caught his neck, pulling him down toward you with a strength that surprised you both. His breath hitched in his chest as he was forced into your space. “I love you too, handsome,” you mumbled against his lips.
He froze. All the months he had spent trying to distance himself, trying to play the stoic mentor because he was terrified of his own heart—and you had wanted him all along? You loved him?
Then, Thor smiled, It was a wide, radiant expression of pure, unadulterated joy that seared its way into your heart, brighter than any lightning he had ever summoned.
You smiled back, a soft, shaky thing that finally reached your eyes, but just as he was leaning in to close the distance, you let out a small, troubled mumble. “I never thought you could love me,” you whispered, your brow furrowing.
His expression shifted instantly, his eyes filled with confusion. “How? I thought I had made it very clear that I want you.”
You rolled your eyes, a dry, sarcastic huff escaping you as you pulled him back toward your lips. “Yeah, you have a very strange way of showing it, grumpy.” you murmured, your voice dripping with irony.
Your lips collided then, and the world outside the room ceased to exist. You kissed him with everything you had—all those times of yearning and frustration pouring into the contact. But the height difference from your position on the bed was nagging at him. Thor reached down, his massive hands catching your waist as he hauled you up to your feet. You gasped, your heels clicking sharply against the floor as you stabilized. He didn't let go; instead, his large hand slid down, his palm tracing the length of your left thigh as you stood before him.
“I love those heels,” he rumbled, his voice dropping into a dark, gravelly sound. His fingers hooked firmly behind the back of your knee, and with a sudden, possessive tug, he brought your leg up, pinning it against his hip.
Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering against your ribs at the sheer boldness of the move. Your midi dress had ridden up until it was sitting just below your ass, revealing your legs to him. “And I love those legs.” He mumbled again looking down at the sight of your legs hungrily. He didn't wait for you to recover; he was kissing you again, pressing you firmly against his solid frame. You opened your mouth in a long, shaky moan, and Thor took the permission instantly. He grabbed your jaw, his massive hand tipping your head back further, deepening the kiss with a primal hunger.
His tongue brushed over your teeth, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as the heat between you spiked. His chest was pressed right against yours—solid, secure, and terrifyingly hot. You had never felt a burn like this just from a few kisses.
It was passionate and messy. It was Thor.
His broad, calloused fingers dug into your soft skin, grounding you as his solid body anchored yours. You combed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly, and he let out a low, guttural groan. The noise vibrated through his chest and directly into yours, making you shudder with a sudden, burning, needy heat that made the rest of the world fall away into ash.
He sucked on your lower lip, a slow and deliberate pressure before releasing it with a wet pop. He licked over the sensitized skin, his tongue soothing the sting before his mouth began to travel. He moved over your cheeks, then down the sharp line of your jaw, repeating the same rhythmic, grounding motion. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, pulling him closer as your hips bucked mindlessy against his, seeking the solid heat of him.
“My love,” he mumbled against your skin. The sound of him calling you that—so easily, so naturally—made your heart hammer against your ribs. “Hm?” you murmured, completely breathless from the weight of his kisses.
“Say it again,” he commanded softly, his forehead resting against yours as his eyes search yours. “Say you love me.”
You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, a soft, genuine thing. “I love you, baby,” you mumbled directly over his lips.
Thor smiled back, a look of pure, unshielded adoration that makes him look younger, softer. “I’m never going to get over that,” he whispered. He began to move, slowly descending you toward the bed, laying you down against the soft sheets with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the storm outside.
He stood over you then, his breathing heavy as he began discarding his armor. The metallic clatter of the plates hitting the floor is the only sound in the room, the sight of him making a rush of heat flare through your core.
He was truly a god. As the layers were coming off, he was revealing the rugged landscape of his body—the short, messy hair, the massive breadth of his shoulders, and those biceps that had been driving you toward the edge of sanity for months. You gulped, your eyes roaming over the sheer power of him, and you instinctively bit your lower lip, your pulse thrumming in your throat. He noticed the look, a dark, confident smirk playing on his lips as he steps closer to the edge of the bed.
You were up on your elbows now, looking up at him while still biting your lip. The sight of him without the armor was almost too much to take in—all corded muscle and golden skin. He climbed onto the bed, bracing one knee down beside you, his right hand reaching out to catch your chin. His thumb moved with a gentle, calloused pressure, unhooking your lip from your teeth.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he smiled down at you, his voice like rolling thunder.
“Like what?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, playing oblivious even as your heart tried to leap out of your chest.
“Like you want to devour me whole,” he rumbled. You gulped, the honesty of the moment stripping away your filters. “But I do,” you said.
His chest staggered, his breath hitching as he looked at you with a new level of intensity. “Don’t say things like that, sweet girl. It only makes me want to keep you here until the end of the universe.”
Your breathing got heavier, the room thick with the scent of him and his skin. “Maybe I want you to keep me here forever,” you mumbled. You were down bad, and at this point, you didn't care if he knew it.
His gaze darkened instantly, the blue of his eye turning into the deep, turbulent indigo of a storm. “Oh, now you’re being a bad girl, darling. You’re playing with fire,” he said. He took hold of your left hand, his grip firm and possessive. The momentum almost made your back hit the bed, but he kept you upright, his strength anchoring you in place.
Once he was sure you were steady, he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. “Wanna feel me, baby?”
You nodded immediately, licking your lower lip expectantly, your gaze fixed on him.
He took your hand and placed it right over his stomach. The moment your palm met his skin, he gasped out a sharp, guttural groan, his abdominal muscles rippling and tightening under your touch. It was like a circuit had been completed; your touch burned through him, sending a physical jolt through his frame that made him shudder against you.
Your gaze was fixed on his eyes, looking up at him through your lashes as you slowly glided your hand upwards, tracing the ridge of his ribs until your palm rested over the heavy thud of his heart. Then, you began lowering it, your fingers exploring the hard, defined planes of his abdominal muscles. It felt incredible to be touching him like this—to finally be feeling him up without the barrier of training gear or armor.
Your hands moved lower, your gaze now fixed on his torso as you watched his skin ripple under your touch. When your hand reached the waistband of his trousers, you smiled wickedly. You shifted your grip, fisting the hard length of him through the fabric.
Thor let out a choked, guttural groan, his eyes snapping shut as his head fell back. You kept palming him, your eyes fixed on his face to watch every flicker of pleasure, every sharp intake of breath. You were going to be the end of him, and you knew it. He was breathing heavily, his entire body straining as he fought for control, trying not to lose himself right then and there.
Just as your fingers found the tab of his zipper, he reached down and caught your hand, his grip firm but trembling with restraint.
“Stop, baby,” he mumbled, his voice a low, ragged rasp.
“Why?” you breathed, looking up at him with a pout.
“Because there’s only one place I’m intending on coming in tonight,” he rumbled, his eyes opening to reveal a gaze so hungry it made your toes curl, “and it isn’t my pants.”
You giggled breathlessly, the sound a mix of nerves and pure excitement. His hands moved then, reaching around to the back of your dress. You felt the cool air hit your skin as he began to pull the zipper down, the smooth slide of the metal the only sound in the room besides your shared, frantic breathing.
When the zipper was down, he didn't waste a second, his large hands tugging the top of the dress down. The cool air hit your skin, revealing your breasts and your hardened nipples to the dim light of the room.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, the word caught in a ragged exhale as he looked down at them.
He pushed you back onto the bed then, the mattress dipping under your weight as he kept tugging the fabric lower. The dress caught momentarily at your hips, the tight fabric clinging to your curves before he worked it free. His hungry gaze traced every inch of skin he uncovered, his eyes dark with a possessive intensity as he stripped the dress completely from your body and tossed it aside.
He looked at your heels then, the silver hardware glinting. When you made a move to reach down and remove them, his hand flashed out, catching your wrist to stop you.
“Keep the heels on,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with a command that made your blood sing.
Oh, fuck.
You nodded frantically, the friction and the sight of him making your black lace panties dampen even more. He looked you over, his gaze traveling slowly back up your legs until it snagged on the lace. His eyes darted from the delicate fabric to your face, his jaw tightening as a flash of that protective, jealous God returned.
“You wore those for him?” he grumbled, his voice low and dangerous as he loomed over you.
You shook your head, your heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. “No—“
He was over you in an instant, the heat from his skin radiating against yours as he hovered over your right breast. “Don't lie to me,” he rumbled against your skin before biting down on your nipple. The sharp, stinging pleasure made you squeal, your breath leaving you in a sharp puff. His left hand gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your hip, while his right hand rested flat against your stomach, anchoring you to the bed.
“I'm not lyin',” you gasped, your fingers knotting into the sheets.
“Are you not?” he asked, his voice a low vibration. He licked over the mark he’d just made, his tongue hot and soothing, while his right thumb found your clit over the black lace. He didn't waste time; he pressed down firmly, right on the center of your pleasure.
You let out a broken moan, your head tossing back against the sheets. You gulped, trying to find your voice through the haze. “I'm not—please—“
“Mm, what do you want, my love?” he asked, his tone deceptively sweet as his thumb began to circle your clit over the fabric, the friction building a frantic, tight heat. “Who did you wear them for then?”
He shifted his focus back to your nipple, slowly kissing, then sucking, then biting again, a relentless rhythm of praise and punishment. You were losing your mind. Your hips tried to buck up, desperate to meet the pressure of his hand, but his left hand stayed heavy on your waist, effortlessly pushing you down.
God, he was so strong. The sheer power in his touch made another rush of wetness pool at your core, soaking into the lace.
“I want you—I wore them for you! I swear!” you moaned, the truth tearing out of you as you arched your back, desperate for him to believe you, desperate for him to not stop.
Thor chuckled deeply, a vibration that felt like it was coming from the very earth beneath the bed. “Should I believe you, darling?” he asked. His thumb didn't stop, the rhythmic circling against the wet lace driving him into a frenzy. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the slick friction of the fabric becoming a testament to your hunger.
“You’re soaking through the lace, sweet girl,” he whispered against your skin, his voice a gravelly secret.
You nodded, your mouth agape as you fought for air, your brows knit together in a pained, perfect pleasure. “Yes... because of you,” you managed to breathe out. “It’s because of you. Only you.”
Thor paused, looking up at you with a gaze full of raw, unadulterated adoration. “You are so beautiful it burns me,” he said, his voice thick with a reverence that made your heart swell.
He didn't wait for an answer. He started a trail of fiery kisses down your stomach, moving past your navel until his hands found the edges of your panties. With one decisive, powerful motion, he ripped the lace apart, the sound of the fabric tearing lost in your sharp gasp.
He parted your legs wide, his large hands anchoring your knees as he caught sight of you, glistening and open for him. His tongue darted out to dampen his lower lip as his right hand made contact, his fingers gently parting your folds to take in every inch of you. The sound of your own slickness squelched under his touch, a wet, heavy sound that filled the quiet room as you instinctively clenched down on nothing but air.
“Looks delicious,” he mumbled, his voice a dark hunger.
He lowered himself between your parted thighs, his beard grazing your sensitive inner skin before his lips found your clit. He gave it one soft, lingering kiss that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your spine. Your eyes snapped shut, and you let out a long, broken moan that echoed against the walls of his quarters.
Your legs instinctively tried to snap shut around his head, your heels clicking sharply as your feet collided against his broad, muscled back. But he didn't budge. He caught your thighs, forcing them wide and pinning them against the mattress with a strength that made you feel delightfully small.
“Behave, little one,” he rumbled, his voice vibrating against your inner thigh. He licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you moaned helplessly, your head tossing back. “Or I will not let you come until you’re crying for me to let you.”
Then, in a blur, his right hand came down and slapped your pussy. It was a sharp, stinging contact that landed right on your clit, making your breath hitch so violently you couldn't even get a moan out. Your vision swam for a second, the shock of the impact sending a fresh wave of heat through your core.
He didn't give you a moment to recover. He placed his hand back on your thigh, his grip bruisingly tight, and lowered his mouth again. This time, there was no gentle kissing. He started suctioning on your clit, his tongue swirling in a frantic, expert rhythm while his fingers began to work their way inside you, seeking to stretch you out for the god currently devouring you.
Your mind was a complete haze of heat and pleasure. The weight of his hand on your thigh felt like it was branding your skin, and every swirl of his tongue against your clit sent waves of pleasure straight to your core. When his thick fingers began to push deep inside you, stretching you and moving in a rhythmic, relentless pace, you felt yourself hurtling toward the edge of that sweet release.
Your hands found the short, rugged hair at the nape of his neck, your fingers knotting in the strands as you pulled him closer. “Please—I’m so close—Please baby,” you begged, your voice breaking.
Thor didn't slow down. He kept the pressure constant, his fingers curling inside you as he felt your internal walls begin to quiver and tighten. He knew exactly where you were. Just as your vision started to go black and the first sparks of an orgasm began to explode behind your eyelids, you cried out, “I’m going to come!”
In an instant, he vanished.
His mouth left your clit and his fingers slid out of you. Before you could even register the loss, his hand—glistening with your own slickness—came down on your pussy in a hard, stinging slap.
The contact sent a jolt through your nervous system that forced a choked moan from your throat. “Why did you do that?” you whined, the sudden frustration of being cut off making your breath hitch. Your lower lip wobbled as the peak you were chasing evaporated into a dull, throbbing ache. “I was about to come...”
Thor smirked up at you, his eyes dark and overflowing with a playful, possessive malice. “That was for wearing those panties,” he rumbled.
“But I wore them for you—”
Crack. Another slap landed, sharp and rhythmic. You whined again, your back arching off the bed in a desperate, failed attempt to find his touch. “Please—”
“Beg me, my love,” he mumbled, his voice a low, commanding vibration as he leaned back over you, his chest hovering just inches from your aching breasts. “Beg me to let you come.”
His tongue traced your lower lip, tasting the salt of your desperation as your hands flew to his neck, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from drowning.
“Please baby, please,” you begged, your eyebrows knitting together in a pained, beautiful expression of need. “Please let me come.”
“Mm,” he hummed, leaning back just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark with the power he held over you. “Let me think on it.”
The wait was agonizing, but it didn't last long. He was back between your legs in a heartbeat, his tongue tracing your clit with an agonizingly slow, light pressure that made you want to scream. Your breath hitched, a broken sound escaping your lips. “Oh my god—“
You didn't know where to put your hands; you were clawing at the sheets, then reaching for him, your body a live wire of unspent tension. He was torturing you, and he knew it. “Please, I’m begging you,” you whispered, hot tears beginning to cloud your gaze and spill over. At this moment, the world outside this room didn't exist. You couldn't feel anything but the heat of his skin and the hunger in his touch.
His fingers stopped at your entrance, hovering there, teasing the sensitive skin. He looked up at you, that devilish smile returning to his rugged face. “Should I let you come, sweet girl?” he asked again, watching the tears run down your cheeks with a gaze that was both possessive and adoring.
“Please—I’ll do anything,” you sobbed out, the words a frantic surrender.
Thor made a deep, approving sound from his chest—a rumble that felt like distant thunder. “Okay then, if you insist.”
He didn't hold back this time. He started devouring you, his tongue moving with a fierce, rhythmic intensity that shattered whatever was left of your composure.
“You taste so good,” he growled in between his attacks on your clit. The vibration of his voice against your most sensitive spot was so delicious you literally saw stars. You gasped for air, your back arching. “You taste just like I imagined,” he said, his voice thick with praise as he worked you toward the edge. “You’re doing so good, baby. Just for me.”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, your body shuddering as his fingers curled deep inside you, hooking against your G-spot with a strength that made your vision swim. “Just for you,” you managed to choke out, though your voice was thinning, reduced to a desperate, airy thread.
He didn't let up. The assault on your clit was relentless, a perfect, punishing rhythm that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. The world was nothing but the scent of him and the white-hot friction between your legs.
“I—” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your knuckles white. “Can I come now?” you mumbled, the words barely audible over the sound of your own frantic breathing.
Thor paused for a fraction of a second, his head lifting just enough to flash a possessive, triumphant smile. “Good girl, asking for permission,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that made your skin prickle. “Look how much of a good girl I’ve turned you into, baby. My good girl.”
He went back to work, his tongue swirling and his fingers driving into you with a new, frantic energy. You were past the point of no return. You were soaring, your internal muscles clenching violently around his fingers, milking them before the release even hit. “Please, please, please—” you begged, your voice rising in pitch.
“Come for me then, my heart,” he commanded, his voice thick with authority.
The moment the words left his lips, the dam broke. You came hard, your entire body stiffening as a violent, rhythmic pulsing took over. You whined out his name, over and over, the sound muffled against the crook of your arm as your world shattered into a thousand shards of violet light.
Thor didn’t pull away. He stayed right there, buried in you, holding you through the aftershocks. He kept mumbling praises against your sensitive skin, his voice a soothing balm to the intensity of the climax.
“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, his fingers still twitching inside you to draw out every last spark of pleasure. “Just like that. Give it all to me. C’mon, that’s it.”
He kept going, his tongue and fingers relentless until you were twitching away from his touch, your nerves fried in the best way possible. He surged back up over you then, his hand gripping your chin to hold you still as he kissed you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue. You let out a broken whine against his mouth, your hands frantically finding his shoulders for purchase.
As he moved, his painful bulge pressed firmly against your swollen clit through the rough fabric of his trousers. You gasped, flinching instinctively; you were so overstimulated from the orgasm he’d just gifted you that the contact felt like lightning. But he wasn't letting you move. He kept your hips locked in place, grinding himself over you with a heavy, guttural groan that forced another moan from your throat. “Thor—it’s too much, please,” you whined, your head tossing on the bed.
It was like he didn't even hear you. He slanted his lips over yours again, effectively shutting you up, and every time the fabric of his pants grazed your sensitive skin, you cried into his mouth. Your breathing was hard and ragged, and despite the overstimulation, the relentless pace of his grinding started to build that familiar, heavy pressure inside you again. Your legs instinctively widened for him, your body betraying your words as you silently begged him to keep going.
Then, he stopped. He pulled his lips from yours, hovering just inches away. You felt like you were going mad. “What are you trying to do?” you whined, your hands reaching down to grab his ass, trying to force him to move again, to give you that friction you were suddenly desperate for.
But he was a wall of muscle. He easily removed your hands from his frame, pinning your wrists to the bed for a brief second as he smiled down at you—a dark, promise-filled expression.
“I’m getting you ready to be fucked, baby,” he rumbled.
He moved then, parting from you just enough to stand on his knees on the bed. Your eyes widened as he began to remove his trousers and boxers in one fluid motion. The sight of him—completely unshielded and massive—made the breath die in your throat. You were finally seeing all of him, and the reality of what was about to happen made your core pulse with a renewed, frantic ache.
Your empty hole clenched with the sharp, agonizing anticipation of finally having him inside you. Thor began descending on you again, his weight a heavy, welcome shadow. His angry pink tip was already leaking with precum, a glistening drop trailing down the side. You couldn't help yourself; your thumb found his tip, smearing a bit of his cum onto your skin before you brought it to your lips.
Keeping your gaze locked on his, you slid your thumb into your mouth and started sucking the moisture off. You closed your eyes, letting out a low, vibrating hum—mimicking exactly what he had done with your lip gloss.
Thor couldn't breathe. The sight of you—so hungry for him, so unraveled that you would do something so bold—made him let out a groan of desperate, primal hunger. He looked like he was going to consume you whole. But a sudden, dark idea popped into his mind.
His massive hands grabbed your waist, and with a sudden surge of strength, he pivoted your entire body. You squealed as he turned you around so your head was toward the footing of the bed and your feet were near the headboard.
“What are you doing?” you asked, looking up at him, startled and breathless as he laid you back down.
He didn't answer. He simply loomed over you, his hands groping at your thighs and forcing them wide once more, your heels still on, catching the light. He leaned down, placing the head of his cock right between your lips—not your mouth, but the swollen, aching folds of your pussy. He started gliding it over you, the friction of his skin against yours making him bite his lower lip and groan in a way that sounded like a physical ache.
You mewled, your hips bucking up to try and force the entry. “Just fuck me already!” you cried out, your voice cracking with the need to be filled.
He chuckled, the sound low and dark as he used your own slickness to coat the length of him. He finally obliged, positioning himself at your entrance. Your hips bucked instinctively, reaching for the relief of him, but he held you firm.
“Stop squirming,” he commanded, his large hands anchoring your hips to the mattress. Then, he started easing inside. He let out a long, pained groan at the way your tight walls immediately clamped around him, welcoming him with a desperate heat. You moaned, your hands flying to his back, fingers digging into the hard muscle there as your legs dangled over his waist, your heels hovering in the air.
He was so deep, stretching you in a way that made you feel completely delirious.
“Shit,” he cursed, his voice cracking. He looked down, and the sight of your stomach slightly bulging with the sheer length of him made him twitch violently inside you.
You moaned again, your voice a broken plea. “Move... I’m begging you.”
Then, he started to move. He was relentless, each thrust a deliberate, heavy weight that filled you to the brink. His left hand reached down, grabbing your right hand and forcing it flat against your own stomach, pressing down right where he was hitting you from the inside.
Your eyes widened, your pupils dilating until there was hardly any color left. “Oh my god—” you mewled, the sensation of feeling him from both the inside and out making your eyes roll to the back of your skull.
“You feel me? Deep in you, marking you, my sweet girl?” he mumbled, his pace fastening.
The rhythm became primal. Your heel-clad feet made rhythmic, thudding noises against his back with every thrust, the silver hardware clicking. His right hand stayed clamped onto your left thigh, keeping you open and vulnerable. You were a total mess—your hair was tangled against the sheets, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps, your eyes fluttering as you lost the ability to process anything but the friction and the fullness.
Suddenly, he shifted. His left hand left yours on your stomach and moved upward, his large palm cupping your face and forcing you to look at him.
“Open your eyes, baby,” he rumbled, his own gaze burning with a divine, terrifying hunger. “Look at me while I take you.”
You opened your eyes, your gaze clouded over and unfocused, but Thor wasn't finished with you yet. He tilted your head back, his hand firm against your jaw, until your line of sight hit the large mirror facing the wall.
The reflection was a shock to your system. You saw everything: the frantic, flushed look of your own face, your mouth agape, and your legs—still adorned in those sharp, elegant heels—dangling over his massive waist. You saw the rhythmic, powerful motion of him driving in and out of you, the sight of his bronzed, muscled skin against yours.
“Oh,” you whined, the visual of your bodies joined together sending a fresh jolt of electricity through your nerves.
“Watch us, baby,” he rumbled, his movements getting faster and more punishing. “Watch yourself take every inch of me.”
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling praise and possessive commands as he bit down on the sensitive cord of your throat. His left hand never wavered, keeping your head tilted at that exact angle so you couldn't look away from the mirror.
He lifted his head then, catching your gaze in the reflection. Sweat was running down his temples, dripping onto your chest, and his eyebrows were knitted in deep, concentrated pleasure. He looked like a man possessed, a god losing himself in a mortal. Well, an immortal now.
The friction, the sight of him in the mirror, and the relentless depth of his thrusts pushed you over the cliff. You couldn't take it anymore; the pressure in your core was a physical weight, a sparking fuse that had finally reached its end.
“I’m—I’m gonna come,” you managed to gasp out, your body beginning to tremble violently beneath him.
His left hand loosened its grip on your jaw, sliding up to cup your cheek as he pulled your gaze away from the mirror and directly toward him.
“Look in my eyes when you come, my heart,” he commanded, his voice a low, ragged rasp. His own pleasure was building behind his eyes, a storm of blue and gold. “Come with me, baby. Come on.”
His adoring gaze burned through you, anchoring you even as the world began to dissolve. Your pulse raced, your internal walls spasming around him in a tight, desperate rhythm until the pleasure finally clouded over your vision and you came, your back arching off the bed as you cried out his name.
“Where do you want it?” he asked, his voice strained and thick as he fought to keep his composure, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.
“In me, please,” you gasped out, the words hitting him like an explosion.
He didn't need to be told twice. Thor let out a primal, guttural groan and surged into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go. He came right after you, his entire frame shuddering as your walls milked him, driving him into a state of pure, unadulterated bliss. He filled you up completely, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he breathed through the intensity of the release.
The room fell quiet, save for the sound of your synchronized, heavy breathing. After a long moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his large hand gently petting your hair, smoothing the tangled strands away from your face.
“You okay, sweet girl?” he asked, his eyes soft and overflowing with love.
You nodded, a wide, breathless grin breaking across your face as the aftershocks continued to hum through your skin. “More than okay,” you said. You reached up, pulling his head back down to yours, and slanted your lips over his in a slow, sweet kiss.
Thor hummed, a low, contented sound that vibrated through his chest as he shifted your position on the bed. He pulled you back against him, spooning you so your back was pressed against the furnace of his skin. He reached around, his large, calloused hands cradling your face with a tenderness that felt almost sacred.
“I lost everything, honey. Lost my home, my mother, my father, my brother. Even my hammer at one point. I was a hollow shell of a man before I met you.” he mumbled against the shell of your ear, his voice thick with a vulnerability he rarely showed. “But I found my universe now. I found you.”
He went quiet for a heartbeat, his thumbs tracing the line of your cheekbones. “I know this is going to be a lot, and we have the weight of worlds on our shoulders, but—” He cleared his throat, the sound slightly nervous. “Would you be mine? And perhaps, in the future... my wife?”
Your heart soared, a wild, ecstatic heat blooming in your chest that had nothing to do with the physical exhaustion of moments ago. You turned in his arms, smiling wildly as you hugged him with everything you had.
“Of course I would, Thunder-Thighs,” you chirped, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
Thor let out a heavy, mock-suffering groan at the nickname, though he couldn't hide the way his lips quirked upward. “You have to stop calling me that,” he rumbled, though he squeezed you tighter, his smile widening against your hair.
“No way,” you mumbled, pressing a final, cheeky kiss to his collarbone.
—
LONG.AS.FUCK. I know, I just can’t help it 😭 Let me know what you think please💞💕
Masterlist
I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE FED INTO ANY AI BOTS. THIS INCLUDES CHARACTER.AI, JANITOR.AI, ETC. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE TRANSLATED, REPOSTED, REWORKED IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM.
My love congratulations on 3000! You deserve all of it! It’s no surprise I freaking love!! Your writing so except two requests from me haha 😅 For your celebration may I pretty please get promt 5 and 24 with our favorite god Thor for request one💗🫣
Always Just One More
Thor x plus size reader
Thor is insatiable for you and being in public won’t stop him
Warnings: smut, fingering, overstimulation, exhibitionism, sex (kind of) in a public place, Natasha knows all, references to oral and sex toys
WC: 636
Minors DNI
3000 Follower Celebration
Thor loved to give you orgasms. It was his favourite pastime besides playing video games. Eating you out, fucking you, controlling a vibrator or dildo he slipped into you, all of it was great to him! He was hypnotised by the way your eyebrows would scrunch as you drew closer to your end, how your breathing changed and how your already tantalising scent got even sweeter.
But by far his favourite way of making you cum was with his fingers. He could watch as you were pinned to the bed or the couch or the kitchen counter (anywhere really) and be forced to take his thick fingers assaulting that little spot inside of you that made your bones go to jelly. It was a massive ego boost to have you fall apart on just one of his fingers. And he especially loved walking around for the rest of the day with your scent soaked into the rough skin of his hands.
But his most cherished part of having you like this was that he could do it in public.
The bar was just crowded enough that no one was bothered by the fact that you were sitting on his wide lap, the large skirt of your 50’s-style dress fanned out over his thighs. Everyone’s eyes were hazy with the copious amounts of alcohol they had ingested in the hour they had been there. Even the self-righteous Steve was flushed to the tips of his ears.
Thor’s lips were pressed to the side of your head and to anyone else, this would have looked like a loving gesture between partners but dear god you knew better. Beneath your skirts, his huge palms kept your plump legs spread as his fingers toyed with your clit, your ruined panties tucked safely in his pocket .
“Come on, just one more. One more and then we’re done.” That was a damn lie. He had said that two orgasms ago when your brain could actually form somewhat coherent thoughts. His black jeans were stained even darker with your wetness and his throbbing bulge was pressed tightly to your outer thigh.
The noise of your companions and the other patrons of the club faded to a dull white noise as your ears began to ring. Thor held you tighter to him as you squirmed.
You whined pitifully as his fingers dipped down to your entrance, scooping up remnants of your release to push back inside of you. Your hips rolled down into his hand despite the burn of overstimulation that radiated from your core. A chuckle rumbled through his broad chest and he pressed a kiss to the side of your head.
“That’s it, keep going. Such a good girl. Cum one more time and then I’ll take you home and ravish you.” For a brief moment, you came back to your senses, just in time to see Natasha’s green eyes trained on you, a wicked smirk upon her lips. But before you could warn your beau or even make a sound, your fifth release of the night washed over you and you went boneless in Thor’s arms.
“Hey Point Break!” Tony called over the din, his voice slurred, “Think you need to take Ms Daisy home!” The others groaned at the dumb nicknames but the god smiled.
“I think you are right!” He seized onto the suggestion, “Come on my love, we should get you into bed.” Some of the others gave a whoop. He gently lowered you to the floor, your heels barely touching the sticky wood before an arm wrapped around your thick waist, keeping you upright as your knees buckled.
“Take good care of our girl!” Natasha called out as you were being led away and Thor looked back over his shoulder, throwing her a wink.
Warnings: smut, alcohol, age gap [thor is obv. pretty old], oral [fem receiving], making out, breast play, pinning
Word count: 1,7k
Summary: y/n craves the feeling of the god of thunder to be with her, to make her feel good, it so happens that he finally catches up and do what she‘s been dreaming of.
A/N: this is my first one-shot to be posted on here, I’m not that good in writing smut as yet, I’m trying to get better <3
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His hands. His veiny, strong hands. His long, thick fingers which are worthy of wielding Mjølnir, they don't leave your mind. Your legs press together at the dirty thoughts popping up in your head, you were needy for the god of thunder to make you scream his name. Watching him flipping his hammer around in the air, catching the handle on his palm before doing the same move again. Your hands fidget with each other inpatient, you needed him here and now, pleasing you and your sensitive parts.
Your heart skipped a beat when you looked directly into the deep blue eyes, feeling how intimidating they were and how they looked deeply into your soul. A smirk appeared on the god's lips when he noticed your pressed legs and your hands covering your midsection, rubbing your palms together in nervousness.
A storm of butterflies mixed with lightning impulses flew around in your lower tummy- this man has a lot of impact on you, and he damn well knew this. His eyes never returned their gaze to somewhere else, they stayed at you, scanning your petite curves up and down and licking his lips at this specific view. Your breast was on display from where on the satin green dress fell down your body, only hanging from your shoulders by golden straps. Your hair was tied up in a beautiful, slick ponytail, some glitter sparkling in the strands from the special hairspray you used. All of this was caught in the god's eyes, not one thing went unnoticed and his stares burnt deeply in your skin.
Slowly, you started shuffling on the brown leather couch you sat on, receiving a rather confused look by the person sitting next to you- Bucky. You awkwardly smiled up to him, containing all your emotions and thoughts and breathed a soft „I'm good" over your lips before returning your attention back to the blonde man who.. disappeared?
Your eyes swift around in a fast move, stopping at blonde locks leaving the room to go upstairs. Your eyes widened, how can he tease you like that, make your body needy like that and then leave?
"I'll use the bathroom quickly" you say, resting your hand on the soldiers shoulder and gifting him a sweet smile of yours before jumping up and following Thor.
Your feet brought you to the direction where he walked past by just seconds ago, but he was nowhere to see-
"M'lady." The sudden voice of the person you've been searching for a few minutes appeared out of a room. Has he been waiting there for you?
Your eyes met his when a vicious smirk appeared on his pink, thin lips.
"As much as i love the gown you're wearing, I'd rather ask you..." he steps closer to you, the storm of butterflies heading back into your stomach, "may I take it off?" Your skin reddened with blush, a shiver ran down your spine and your eyes grew wide just a little bit. You felt your breath hitching through your lungs- for the first time actively.
Your eyes fell down on his lips- god, you wanted to kiss him so bad right here and now, but answering his question before you can, was the better choice to take.
"Y-Yes." You quickly breathed over your lips when you met the blue eyes of his once again, they sparked with a tiny bit of lust. His smirk grew wider.
What the hell is so fucking attractive that he has such an impact on you?
He grabbed your arm and swiftly pulled you inside the bathroom, you let out a surprised groan at his movement. His hand pressed you against the still opened door, closing it with your body weight which made you let out a scoff. Finally, the warmth of his hand touching your skin let a shiver run down your spine and you felt a pulse at your core. A pulse you haven't felt in a long time. His hand now moved next to your waist, grabbing the key of the door as he swiftly turned it to the right, locking the door and making sure by pulling at the knob. Now it's just the two of you, alone in a bathroom which is close by the living room where several fellow team members have a relaxing night.
He doesn't have to say anything, the eyes he gave you, the stares, the grin... his mimics and looks told you how much he wanted you, how inpatient he has been. The warm, gold chains from your dress fell down your shoulders and hang down your arms, leaving your upper chest part more exposed than it already had been. The god licked his lips and eagerly pressed his lips on your skin next to your collarbone. You moaned. It was on accident, or not, but the sudden touch caught you by surprise.
His hands squeezed the flesh around your waist, pulling you closer to his muscular body, closer to his lips. All of this could be a dream, but it's not, you feel the breath of him hitting your skin, how he sucked at your sensitive skin and how he kissed over every single part of your neck era. It felt like a dream.
You didn't know where to put your hands, you had them every where on him. His shoulders, his back, his abs and his sides.. Everywhere you could reach, until you couldn't. He pulled away from your body and grabbed your small hands into his large ones, only the look of the size comparison had you getting weak. With ease, he pulled them up above your head and kept them there.
An erotic grin drew his lips and he moved forward your chest, biting the satin fabric of your dress and pulling it down slowly. Your breath hitched. He doesn't know what he's doing with you, what this does with you. Once the cold air hit your nipples, they grew hard, hard for him. He gave you one last look before his hot tongue made contact with your left breast, licking over the intimate part. Your knees fell weak, but he held you in place, he had the upper hand and you loved it.
Usually it has been you who's dominant around the team, who's always in charge, leading them into war and out of it, but if it's about having fun at night? Having Sex with someone? You prefer to be led by them.
His tongue played with your nipples, switching from one to another over and over, every now and then sucking at them, making you blur out a soft moan.
"Thor.." it caught his attention. The mix of whispering and moaning got him excited, more than he's been already.
"What's the matter, dove?" He gently asked, worrying any negation now. Did he take it too far? Have you gotten uncomfortable? something he didn't notice as yet was your underwear. By now it was soaked wet, he teased you too much, let you wait too long - not that you didn't love it, you did, but you can't wait any longer.
"Please.." was everything you could say, closing your eyes and softly and moaning at the imagination of him between your legs, eating every inch of your pussy like it was his last desert. You don't blame him for not catching up on what you've been up to, what you wanted him to do, it feels like both of you haven't had sex in a long time, he probably for longer than you.
"Just take this dress off.." something he didn't let him be told twice. His hands let go of yours and pulled your gown completely off your curves, leaving you standing there in hot black lingerie. Only one layer of fabric covering the part that has been dripping the whole time for him. His eyes fell down at them, he couldn't see the wetness coming through, but he felt it in some way. He kneeled down and grabbed your right leg, gently putting it over his shoulder to have a better look at what he's about to make his dinner.
His lips traveled down your inner thigh, getting closer to the heat he's in guilt for. Once his lips made contact with the fabric over your pussy, you whined. You've been craving this feeling for as long as you can remember and it felt magical. Only a bit of touch made you shiver and weak for him.
The sound he made when he realised how wet you were, is like a mix of moans and groans. He probably wants to get into it straight away, but he tortures both, you and him, with keeping the teasing going.
But he couldn't.
He made your foot touch the floor again, as well as your panties the moment they landed next to his legs. As quick as your leg was straight, as quick it was bend over his shoulder again, with his head between your legs, his tongue sliding through your wet dripping folds. The moan that escaped your mouth was immense, exploding almost. It felt amazing, you knew already that you don't want him to stop anytime soon, you want to be unable to walk the next morning.
His tongue explored every inch of your pussy, stopping at your clit that was swollen red already. He teased the bundle of nerves with his flicking movements, making you moan more and more. You tried your best to keep them quiet, but oh heaven you couldn't. Those were music to Thor's ears to be exact, he doesn't want you to stop.
"Fuck- Thor.." the air in your lungs was caught in tightness, you felt how a knot in your abdomen grew and grew the rougher he went on you. He moaned along with you, he was turned on by your noises and hip thrusts that only intensified.
This felt like an eternity but it was only 3 minutes until the knot in your stomach explode. Your one hand flew on your mouth to suppress the moans escaping, whilst the other clawed into his long blonde hair. You gasped for air, breathing heavily through your nostrils as you slowly calmed down from your high.
Pairing: Thor x F!Reader
Wordcount: 3.1K
Warnings: srs rough sex. brat taming. sex on the floor. mentions of hair.
Summary: He was going to channel his frustration into her and teach her a lesson - wreck her until she listened and understood.
A/N: pretend thor is still king and the guardians chill with him
Thor Masterlist
Thor’s fingers curled around the handle of Stormbreaker as he stared her down. This was it. He couldn’t believe it. She had nearly gotten herself killed again. He shut his eyes, attempting to regulate the frantic pounding of his heart.
It was no use. The adrenaline from battle had tangled with his terror at her actions, and now it was rippling through him. It was burning with the same urgency as a falling star, screaming through his muscles, veins, and every damn piece of him.
You foolish fucking girl.
A large part of him wanted to shake her. He wanted to break down in front of her and make her understand that when she risked her life, she risked his. He would not survive another loss.
Oblivious to his anger, she headed to their tent, stepping away from him and the charred remains of the enemy. After going nuclear, a dull purple glow still emanated from her skin. The swell of her power continued to stick to the air along with the stench of burnt meat. There was the aftertaste of ripe fruit and soil, the subtle tang of energy like he’d zapped the wind with his own lightning.
His gut twisted.
You know every time it costs you. Every time could be the time you don’t come back from it.
Thor suddenly realized he was following her, his boots moving before he could even process what he was doing. The words were tumbling out of his mouth.
“Have you lost your mind?!”
She didn’t stop. The Guardians and the remnants of their army were parting around her, mystified.
“They had you on the ropes,” she shot casually over her shoulder. There was smoke in her hair, along her arms, slowly dissipating with the planet’s warm breeze. He could smell lotus blossoms and the salty stir of the sea that sparkled in the distance. He’d taken her on that blue-sand beach not even a day ago. He’d been inside her as she clutched at him, thighs curled around his waist with his name spilling from her lips. Alive. Heart-beating. Lungs expanding. He stilled as icy realization smothered him, snatching his breath. She could have died today for something ridiculous. She had been alive, and then she could have been snuffed out. Taken as Loki had been with a skittering crack of bone. Frigga. Heimdall. The Warriors Three.
As Thor watched her saunter to the tent, anger flooded his veins. His previous fear was now thoroughly painted over with indignation. He roared her name, and she stilled, whirling around to gape at him. The mass around them went silent.
“They didn’t have me on the fucking ropes, darling,” he hissed in a tight voice as he began to advance on her. Mantis jerked out of the way while Nebula rolled her eyes. Rocket, Groot, and Drax hovered closer, curious.
“Now, Thor,” Quill said, trying to intercept him, but Thor knocked him out of the way. Not hard enough to damage him, but hard enough to make him stumble. He pinned Peter with a warning look, and the man threw his hands up.
Thor marched forward with purpose. His eyes locked on her face, and to his slight amusement, it appeared uncertain. Good. The thing about Thor was that he would tolerate bad behavior from her up to a point. He would until it actually struck that nerve that he could not ignore. It almost always came down to her being reckless with her life.
“I think you’re overreact-”
“Shut up,” he growled, his hands clamping down on her shoulders. He pressed closer until they were nose to nose. “Don’t you dare fight me on this. How many times do I have to remind you that using your powers like that can make you lose control? Kill you?”
Though he tried to fight it, his voice softened. His thumb brushed firmly into the meat of her arm, and her eyes slanted up to meet his. Her lips twitched, and he knew that she had caught him. She could work with affection.
“We won, Odinson,” She tipped her chin, lashes fluttering as she stared up at him with tenderness. “I saw you go down. I just reacted.”.
That wasn’t true. He wasn’t down. He’d gotten hit, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. She was trying to gain his sympathy. She had wanted the battle to be done, so she had taken the easy way out.
“No,” he replied flatly. “You knew I would be fine. You just wanted to finish it.”
“I didn’t die-”
“That’s not the damn point.”
“Thor,” She glanced at the group surrounding them, frowning. “You need to calm down. You’ve certainly pulled some dangerous moves in a fight.” She drew away from him. Her expression was completely nonplussed, which made him more furious.
He pointed his finger at her. “You-”
“-are going to take a nap!” She cut him off, turning around, and waving her hand in his direction dismissively. She was deliberately taunting him as he watched her stroll back to their tent. Their friends stared at him from the sidelines - amused. Mantis was muffling a laugh while Nebula shook her head.
They didn’t get it. No one was taking him seriously. They didn’t understand what could happen if she really lost it…her magic controlled her, not the other way around.
“I could go speak to her,” Quill offered as he stuffed his gun back into its holster. “Give her -“
Thor silenced him with a death glare. No. He was going to deal with this. He wasn’t going to use kindness either. She took advantage of that in order to make him forget. Oh Thor, my love, you’re being ridiculous. I’m fine. I’m safe. I love you. Come here, my king.
None of that.
He was going to channel his frustration into her and teach her a lesson - wreck her until she listened and understood.
He growled, roughly scraping a hand over his face before silently storming after his wife.
***
She’d fucked up. She knew it. She knew it the second that she had done it.
It was partially true. She had gotten nervous at Thor getting bested. She’d felt her energy coursing through her veins, and it had just taken over. She’d erupted - devastating the other side and finishing the job.
He did have a point. It, technically, hadn’t been necessary. She could have waited it out, and they would have inevitably won.
The look on Thor’s face, though.
She grimaced, massaging her temples as her head began to pulse. She’d used up a lot.
He had been horrified, and she couldn’t bear it. She knew that she was being ridiculous and awful and -
“We need to talk,” Thor announced as he strode into the room. He shoved Stormbreaker’s base into the soil, so it stood straight, his eyes never leaving her.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Look - I know that was-”
“Be quiet,” he snapped, and she abruptly shut her mouth. Stunned. “You are a petulant brat, and it truly mystifies me. I warn you time and time again about you using your powers, and you never listen.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting nervously under the brutal shadow of his scowl. He really was pissed.
Thor’s face shuttered to something lethal. He slowly cocked his head, his eyes darkening to the blue-black depth of the sea. She cleared her throat.
“I’m done,” he stated as he took a step toward her. She remained rooted to the spot. “I’m done with your fucking inability to listen to me.” He was on her, his chest plate at her nose. “I should bend you over my knee,”
She jerked - core tensing at the thought. Reflexively, her thighs rubbed together, and her breath caught. Bastard. Thor’s nostrils flared, and then he cracked a smug grin.
It made him blindingly handsome. It made him difficult to stare at.
“You know I can smell you, woman,” he declared in a low voice. His fingers skated across the hem of her leather skirts. She blinked up at him like she didn’t know what he was talking about when both of them knew that she absolutely did. He knew her like he knew the details of his own hand. It was strange to be seen by him, essentially laid out by this man she loved more than life itself. He had her between his fingers - pulling her in separate directions. Let me see where it hurts. Let me fix you.
“Are you wet for your king?” he murmured, and her eyes widened. “Do you like it when I yell at you?”
Yes.
No.
Yes.
She swallowed, her hands curling into fists. Her heart was thumping in her throat, climbing up up up until it settled at the center of his head. Her vision was going red and toppling down because all she could see was Thor. His broad shoulders and the fur clinging to his cape. The carmine fabric of the tent was shuddering in the wind. The world outside was howling.
“You’re a terrible subject,” he sighed, and his breath brushed her forehead. He was inches from her, but he didn’t touch her. Not yet. “Volatile. Stubborn.” His eyes narrowed. “A fucking child.” She bit the inside of her cheek, her stupid inner voice refusing to apologize. “Beautiful and dreadful at once.” He lowered his face so that his lips dragged against her ear before he nipped it. She lurched, catching at the furs in his collar to hold onto something. “A fucking thorn in my side,” he whispered as his arm crept around her waist. “But still mine, nonetheless.”
“Thor - I-”
“I’m going to fuck you,” he snarled as he hauled her to him, tilting her chin up so that she was forced under the full heft of his gaze. The air burned. It tasted like she’d pressed her tongue to an electrical current. “I’m going to make sure you feel my cock for days. I’m going to open you up on it until you remember how to be a good little queen.”
***
Not five minutes later, he was inside her. Her armor had been tossed somewhere, and his leather trousers were bunched around his knees as he buried his cock into her again and again.
“I can’t believe you - fuck - you yelled at me in front of everyone,” she spat, her nails clawing at the dirt floor. He was blanketing her with his enormous body, his hips slapping against her ass in such a punishing manner that she could barely get a breath in. He used his knees to spread her legs even further; she was worried she’d break. Her teeth clicked, and she bristled when his beard scraped across the nape of her neck before he bit the flesh. It hurt. “Asshole.”
“Think you’re so fucking smart,” he rumbled as he found her hands and pinned her wrists in front of her. “I’ve been nothing but soft on you, and you disobey me every fucking time.”
“Not always.”
“You’re being deliberately obtuse.”
She gasped when he got a particularly sharp stroke in. He slid his fingers into her hair and fisted it, causing pricks of pain to spring up along her skull. “Petulant. Fucking. Brat.” Each word he delivered was emphasized with a perfunctory thrust.
He smacked her ass so hard that it made her lurch forward, and she, to her embarrassment, whimpered as she ground back into his hips. He was relentless. He kept his grip on her hair, and his other hand clamped down on her waist. His calloused fingers were still tipped with blood and dirt as he streaked them across her skin. She was going to come. She could feel the burgeoning flood of her pleasure start to swirl in the pit of her lower belly. Her vision tilted. Noises were coming out of her that rose and rose, and Thor was getting off on it as he plowed her into the ground - his cock stretching her to the point that she thought he was stabbing her womb.
It was good. It was so good, and as her climax brushed the tip of the hill, hovering mid-air, it was brutally yanked backward. Thor left her cunt, his slick cock jamming against her thigh.
“Wha-”
“You’re not allowed to come yet,” he commanded flatly before flipping her onto her back. Her head cracked against the packed earth, and she barely noticed. Everything else was secondary compared to what he was doing between her legs.
He gripped her throat, knuckles nudging under her jaw. It was just enough force for her to struggle, her chest hitching with frantic breath as he stroked her puffy, abused pussy. She could feel herself gaping for him as he teased her, tracing her folds as he admired how well he’d left his mark. He grinned, his teeth white and overwhelming against his dark beard.
He pressed his thumb urgently against her clit, and she yelped. It was too much. The roughness of his callouses, the way he slid two fingers into her and then pumped them in rapid, short bursts.
“Happy?” he growled as he tightened his hold on her throat. “Look how wet you are.” He momentarily withdrew his fingers, lifting his hand to show her, and she was all over him. He stuck them in his mouth, sucking indulgently before pushing them back into pussy without a single ounce of gentleness. He screwed them deep, her walls clenching around him as her nails bit into his wrists. He had her pinned.
This was…new. They had enjoyed rough sex before, but he was always slightly hesitant, his gestures framed by careful concentration and reading her tells. He was using her here - cracking her open and drinking the contents. It made her soaked. It made her powers swirl along the paths of her veins, lighting her up from the inside.
“Thor,” she gasped between gritted teeth, and his eyebrows lifted up in mock surprise.
“Thor,” he imitated in a high-pitched voice. “No - no - you can’t beg your way out of this one. You can’t suck my cock to butter me up. You have abused my patience, little one.” There was a subtle burst of blue light behind his eyes; his brow was hell-bent as he regarded her with disappointment. “I told you, I’d punish you if you acted foolishly again.” She knew that. She knew, of course. She knew that every near-fatal thing she did nearly drove him insane. She dug her heels into the dirt beside his thick thighs; his weight on her was almost intolerable even though he knew she could take it. “You asked for this,” he accused, his cock slippery and hot against her inner thigh. “You never listen!” He twisted his fingers, rubbing them against something devastating inside her cunt. She arched, hips jumping against his hand. He chuckled darkly. “Are you going to come? Let me see it, then.”
Let me see it.
The words wrapped in a taunt and desperately angry. He circled her clit again before pressing down, and her strings snapped. She toppled off that damn hill, everything bursting out of her. Her skin twitched purple, and Her vision blacked out. Her walls fluttered around him, her mouth parting on a shriek, and all of it dialed to an eleven when Thor didn’t give her a momentary respite. As she tried to settle her breathing, Thor took himself in hand and breached her with his cock.
She choked, her hands flying to his shoulders. She was still coming, pulsing and shivering, and he laughed. “You fucking love this,” He grabbed the hinge of her knee and flung it over his shoulder so he could hit deeper. He bore his weight, lifting himself slightly, gaze caught on where he was driving into her. His hand found the peak of her sex, and without a warning, he shocked her. She tried to scream, but Thor covered her mouth with his own, his tongue roughly fighting with hers, muffling every high-pitched noise exploding out of her. His cock was molten as he sheathed it to the hilt, her skin blistered, and his hands on her were possessive. He grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks together, his electric-blue eyes shimmering and unnatural as he bored them into her own. “I fucking love you, you idiot,” he stated, voice a shade of desperate. “I fucking love you.”
His hips bunched against her pelvis as he rocked forward. She felt the warm pulse of him - the spit of his seed wet and heavy and, to her horror, she began to tear up from the pleasure of it. She tried to pull away, but he caught her around the arms, hauling her against his chest; his lips landed on her forehead as one of his hands slipped over her curls, and he pressed two of his fingers against her throbbing clit. She came again.
***
After several minutes, Thor collapsed, rolling onto his back. He gave her a sidelong glance, unsure if he’d pushed her too hard. Her chest was heaving, and there was sweat beading down her hairline. Her breath was coming in tiny pants between her parted lips. Had she been crying?
“Are you-”
She shifted onto her side, her expression dazed and, to his relief, dreamy. “C’mere,” she cooed, and he went, bundling her up in his arms and sealing himself to her shivering body. He dropped his head to press a kiss to her mouth, and she sighed against it. He took her lips again, fingers brushing along her collarbone, her throat as their tongues met in a coaxing dance. He nipped her bottom lip, and she shuddered, her fingers curling around his hair and yanking gingerly on his braid.
“Did I make you cry?”
“In a good way,” she replied before frowning in displeasure. “How embarrassing.”
He snorted.
He’d fucked the chaos out of her, that was certain. She made a hum of contentment as she wiggled closer into his warmth. Her stubbornness had seemingly fluttered away as she clutched at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for more languid kisses. She was as docile as a house cat.
He smiled against her mouth, darting to the side to nuzzle his nose into her cheek. “Did I teach you a lesson, then?”
She squeezed his waist, grinning up at him wickedly. “Oh no,” she replied, her tone throaty and sweet. “If that’s what I get for not listening, then consider me forever deaf to your orders.”
“Hilarious.” He paused before his smile began to fade as he considered her words. “That’s a joke, right?”
Summary: They say lightning never strike twice. Thor begs to differ.
Word count: 3.4K
Warnings: pure brain rotting smut with a little plot, size kink, oral sex (female receiving), face riding, couch sex, male ejaculation, creampied, shower sex. Mutual pinning if you squint. a bit shy/awkward reader (because w’re all a bit awkward talking to our crushes 🥲)
MINORS DNI | 18+ ONLY
A/N: y’all know I’ve been wanting to read some filthy ass size kink fic. Well, if you want something bad enough, you gotta write it yourself. Here it is in its pure filth. No beta, so I’m sorry!! Feedback & reblog just mean a lot and greatly appreciated if you enjoyed this.
*** do not copy, repost, rewrite, or translate my works !!
You could feel him eyeing you across the room.
Another sip from your wine glass and you turn and pretend to listen to Sam and Bucky because God helped you, you can’t meet his eyes at all. You could feel the heat slowly blooming at your cheeks while your heart was practically hammering against your chest.
“Are you alright, Y/N?” Sam asked you when he noticed that you were acting awfully suspicious.
“Please, don’t mind me. Just enjoying my wine. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.” you flashed him a sheepish smile.
Bucky tapped his shoulder and Sam turned in the direction and nodded in understanding. It was a known fact that you have had a crush on Thor for a while now, and almost everyone knows about it, well except that you didn’t know that everyone knew about it.
Warnings: smut, baby girl nickname, dominate Stephen, age gap (20 ish years) cussing, choking.
Stephen sat by the bar a martini in his hand regretting telling Tony Stark that he would make it to yet another victory party- even though Stephen was pretty sure it was just an excuse for Tony to have another party. With the mission they all had; it was probably a good idea on Tony’s part to release some tension that was weighed on their shoulders from the mission.
“Hey pretty boy- do you want more of that drink?” Natasha said with a soft laugh as she leaned across the bar counter. Stephen rolled his eyes but a smile placed on his face.
“You know I could just refill it myself.” He commented a slight cocky look on his face- Nat just rolled her eyes.
“Hey im being nice to you- don’t be cocky mr magic.” She laughs taking his cup and refilling his martini drink. She handed to him and he did a quiet thank you. His eyes snapped towards a young woman in a black dress- who laughed loudly at what Thor was saying to her; most likely trying to impress the young girl. Stephen almost dropped his drink when she caught his eyes. Why hasn’t he seen her before? She was gorgeous, h/l h/c hair and when she looked around he caught the color of her eyes. They were so bright and full of youth and life. Natasha notices this laughing lightly.
“Ah so you’ve finally caught your eye on her?” Natasha says titling her head at the sorcerer seeing the way he didn’t want to remove his eyes from her. He looks back mouth slightly open before clearing his throat.
“Who is that?” He questions rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. Nat just smiles knowing exactly who she was but wanted to see how this would play out.
“Why don’t you go see.” She hummed before turning around to prepare more drinks for the guests. Stephen had a cocky smile on his face before doing exactly what Natasha had suggested. He straightened his suit before walking over to the mystery girl.
“And that’s why I can be the only whom can hold the hammer!” Thor boomed loudly as she laughed at how loud and energetic Thor could be.
“So you have to be worthy? So if it’s on an elevator- does that mean the elevator is worthy?” she cocked her head to the side- her gaze pure and full of interest.
“You’re very funny Lady- Oh Mr. Wizard!” Thor exclaims looking at Stephen who was behind her ready to go up to introduce himself. She turns around to face the sorcerer smiling from ear to ear.
“Oh hi.” She chuckles bringing up her martini up to her lips. Stephen swore his breath caught in his throat when he saw her up close- she was stunning.
“Hi. My name is Doctor Stephen Strange.” He said bringing his hand out- she giggled before taking his hand giving it a firm shake.
“I knew that already but hi.”
“So you’re not going to tell your name?” He chuckles bringing his hand back away from her touch suddenly missing the feeling of warmth.
“I’m afraid if I tell you Doctor- you’ll run away and I don’t know about you but I don’t want you too.” She smirked- ah so a flirt she was. Stephen grinned leaning against the wall closest to them.
“Oh? Is that so?” He sipped on his drink as he looked at her- she couldn’t be more than 23 years old. Young- maybe a little too young for him but god was she the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen. “I think I can handle it.” He hummed. She walked closer to him tilting her head.
“No- I don’t really think you could Doctor Strange.” She smiled softly poking his chest. “Have a great night.” She winked at him before walking away from the sorcerer. Stephen watched as she walked away- her hips swaying. She knew she was a tease, she knew that Stephen strange was completely attracted to her. Only if he knew she loved to play games.
Stephen rubbed his forehead with his fingers as he looked up at Tony explaining their next mission. That’s when she walked in. The mystery girl from the party.
“Aye there’s my girl.” Tony smiles softly. She smiles widely giving Tony a side hug- her eyes landing on Stephen.
“Hey Y/n.” Natasha smirks looking between the two knowing Stephen had no idea yet and that made it much more entertaining.
“So y/n is your name?” Stephen smirks leaning back on the god awful office chair. Y/n smiles softly looking at Tony- who was glaring daggers towards Stephen.
“How do you know my daughter doctor?” Tony asked as he crossed his arms his gazing never leaving Stephen. Stephen almost choked- eyes wide as Natasha sat there giggling like a maniac. Y/n bit her lip nervously watching Stephen’s reaction.
“I met him at the party dad- don’t worry about it.” She said flicking her dad’s nose a smile on her face- that made Stephen basically swoon.
“So you’re Y/n Stark?” Stephen whispered rubbing his gotee mentally face palming himself. He flirted with Tony’s daughter- god she must be so young then. Tony kept his gaze on Stephen.
“Stay. Away.” Tony groaned. Stephen smirked lightly moving his gaze from Tony back to Y/n as she used that little flirt smile; basically begging him to not stay away.
“I’ll see you guys later.” Y/n grins walking away from the meeting. Stephen heart thumping against his chest as he watched her walk away.
“No- don’t think about it.” Tony warned pointing a finger towards Stephen. “She is 23 years old-“
“So why isn’t that I didn’t know you had a daughter Tony?” Stephen laughed leaning against the chair crossing his arms.
“Because- I like to keep her safe and away from public eye.” Tony grumbled. Stephen hummed smirking a bit. “Now stay away!” Stephen tried to… he really did.
And there she was again- he’s bumped into her everywhere now. The kitchen, in the training room, anywhere and everywhere. He watched as she read in the common room, her knees curled up to her chest- as she let the tv roll with a random show as a background noise. He knew it was creepy to watch but she looked so peaceful. He kept hearing Tony’s voice- “stay away” but god was it so hard. She was beautiful and brought a certain light in the room. He watched as she slowly chewed the bottom of her lip- reading glasses framing her face, a messy bun on top of her head. Stephen needed to talk to her- instead of small talk it was driving him crazy. He ran a hand through his hair before walking up to her on the couch.
“Must be interesting whatever you’re reading.” He mutters lightly. She looks up from her book a small smile on her face.
“I mean it is Harry Potter- of course it is.” She giggled placing her book down on her lap. “I mean you would know about wizards huh? Did you come from Hogwarts?” She jokes- she was a lot like her father.
“Haha-“ he laughs sarcastically sitting himself down on the couch before looking at her. “I’m a sorcerer by the way- not a wizard.”
“That’s not what my dad says. I’m pretty sure you’re a wizard.” She smirked tilting her head in a cocky way that made Stephen’s heart thump.
“Does it look like I have a wand?” He joked back at her- she just laughed lightly rolling her eyes moving herself dangerously close to him.
“I don’t know. Do you?” She flirted batting her eyelashes- she knew she was cute, she knew she was a flirt and she used that to her advantage when it came to Stephen strange. Stephen looked at her when she moved herself closer to him- her batty lashes and pouty lips.
“You know you’re a flirt don’t you?” He chuckled lightly his face moving dangerously close to hers-
“Only with you- I told you, you’d run when you found my name.” She smirked moving her head away from his- Stephen let out the breath he was holding noticing the small smirk on her lips. He knew she was playing a very dangerous game. He looked around his surroundings to notice no one was in fact here- he decided to take a very dangerous step, that could end up getting him killed by Tony but god she was all he could think about. He grabs her chin moving her head closer to his- his eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips.
“I didn’t run.” He mutters softly- smirking lightly seeing the blush that covered her cute face. He brings his face closer rubbing his nose against hers- her eyes fluttering close as his breath hits her soft lips. “I can tease too, you know.” He grinned letting go of her chin pulling his head away noticing the slight whimper and pout escaping her lips and face.
“No- you cannot get to do that and walk away.” She huffs standing up from the couch her arms crossed as she stared down at him. Stephen laughs lightly standing up to tower over her.
“You’re cute when you get mad.” Stephen chuckles deeply winking at her before walking away- he could hear her huff and plop back down on the couch.
Stephen was determined to make Y/n stark blush, and wanting to more. They hung out all the time- of course when everyone was asleep. They would talk and flirt but most importantly he got to actually know the young stark- he found out she loves reading, and quite like her father; sassy, witty, silver tongue. He was enjoying her presents more and more. Dare to say he was actually falling for her.
Stephen groaned again as he was at ANOTHER party of Tony starks- it wasn’t even a celebration. It was just a party because Tony got bored. Stephen smiled as he watched Y/n wearing a red mini dress trying her absolute best to get Stephen’s attention and god it was working. He sipped on his martini as he stared at her talking to Wanda- she kept glancing at Stephen behind her shoulder the red lipped smirk aimed at him, and every time she looked at him she would bit her lower lip in such a seductive way. She was waiting for him to break- and he was so close to. Stephen chewed the inside of his cheek before setting his glass down and marching over to her. He slyly wrapped an arm around her waist giving Wanda an apologetic smile.
“Wanda- May I borrow y/n?” Stephen asked- y/n eyes wide as she looked up at Stephen her head tilting in confusion. Wanda laughs waving her hand.
“Please do- she can’t stop looking at you anyhow.” Wanda sipping her wine. Stephen laughed lightly before guiding Y/n away from the party and into a secluded area- the idea of secluded area was the furthest bathroom away from the party. He brought her inside closing the door behind them before slamming her against the door. His look was full of lust- the teasing was too much for him at this point. Her eyes widen when he pushed her against the door. His hand on her lower stomach and his other on her cheek- his face was close to hers. He watched as she bit her lower lip nervously but a small smirk wanted to escape.
“Ah so you’re breaking huh?” She giggled lightly moving her leg in between his thighs, rubbing her foot up and down his leg. Stephen breath hitched moving his hand to place on the wall besides her head.
“You know I can show you what I do to naughty girls.” He purred lightly his heart beating against his chest not believing his own words that fell out of his mouth.
“Me naughty no-“ Stephen smashed his lips against hers before she can come back with a sarcastic and bratty comment. She almost gasped loudly at the contact but instead she decided to move her hands to his hair gripping onto it like her life depended on it. He groaned into the kiss his hands moving down to her waist gripping tightly which made a quick squeak escape her lips. He pulled back before immediately attacking her neck creating small love bites on her neck and making his way down to her chest. She moaned tugging on his hair roughly. “I want to go slow… but I cannot wait- don’t want people to be suspicious now do we?” He mumbled against her skin before turning her around to face the wall a gasp escaping her lips.
“N-No I guess not.” She whimpered, he chuckled deeply his hands on her hip. He ran his hand up and down her bare legs.
“Was this short dress for me love?” He smirked in cocky way. She chewed on her bottom lip at the way he caressed her legs, moving his hand between her thighs getting dangerously close.
“Maybe…” she squeaked. He just chuckled darkly before hitching up the dress to show her lacey black underwear.
“Oh my darling- as much as I love these. They need to be gone.” He growled before ripping off her underwear- which caused her to gasp loudly when he did so. The pool between her legs starting to become even more wet- if that was possible. “Look at you dripping for me darling girl.” He cooed. She blushed deeply trying to close her legs but he immediately kicked them apart. “No, keep them spread.” He purred- she heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants which made her mouth go dry. She didn’t have much time to think as he shoved his hard cock inside of her tight pussy. She moaned loudly her hands going in front of her on the door to support herself.
“Fuck!” She shouted- Stephen chuckled gripping onto her hips as slowly moved himself in and out of trying to get to adjust to his size- her pussy was delightful was warm, tight and delicious.
“Baby girl- you are the most delightful thing I’ve ever had.” He groaned. “Think you’re fully ready for me?”
“D-Don’t hold back. N-need.” She stuttered gasping at every thrust- he was hitting her g-spot just right; everytime he would pull back slowly and then push himself inside of her just right. It made her mouth just water at the way he knew what he was doing. Both of their heads snapped when the door knob started turning. “Someone’s in-“ Stephen chuckles quietly before thrusting himself harder in her. “H-here!” She looked back and shot him a glare at his cocky face. He was loving this.
“Oh I’m sorry lady y/n! We were just looking for you!” Thors voice booms through the door. Y/n hitched a breath when Stephen started increasing his pace- that same cocky look on his face. She tried to calm down her uncontrollable breathing, trying not to slur out profanities and moans.
“N-No it’s okay! I’ll b-be out soon!” She was able to gasp out but it wasn’t helping that Stephen moved one of his hands to massage her very sensitive breast over her dress.
“Are you okay in there lady y/n?” Thor asks in concern. Y/n felt the tears threatening to come out of her eye pocket- not out of pain no out of pure pleasure. Stephen moved his hand to push the hair out of the way of her neck to place gentle kisses as he continued to pound into her his grip on her hip never leaving.
“I’m fine! I’ll be out soon Thor! Please!” She exclaimed her hand on the door scratching lightly throwing her head back- making Stephen wrap his hand around her neck.
“Alright alright- I’ll tell your father that you’ll be out there soon.” Thor laughs- she hears his footsteps walk away. Stephen laughed a bit gripping her neck more.
“Good girl.” He cooed making her pussy tighten around his hard cock making him grunt in the process. “Now sweetheart we’ve gotta make this fast- prepare yourself.” She nods not being able to make any sentences- but moan. He moved his hand down back to her hips; before forcing her hips to hit more into him. He rocked his hips against her- her moans sounded like pure bliss in his ears. The sound of skin and skin smacking together. He threw his head back grunting and moaning feeling himself close to the edge; and he knew she was too- with the way she was clenching around him.
“Fuck Stephen. I’m so close please.” She moaned out. Stephen grinned moving his head down to her ear kissing and nibbling her ear gently.
“Cum for me baby girl.” He mutters- as soon as those words escaped his lips. She screamed loudly her juices cumming around his cock. He smirked before going faster getting him closer to his edge. He gasped loudly before spilling his seed inside of her(god he hoped she was on the pill or something) he lazily placed his head on her back finishing himself out. He pulls out of her groaning at the loss of contact. He watched as his seed dripped down her leg- with the swish of his hand he removed and cleaned the seed off of her. She turned around to face him- her face flushed as she fixed her hair.
“You lost.” She hummed- he chuckled lightly placing his hand on her cheek before placing a soft peck on her lips.
“And I’ll lose a 1000 times over if it means that I get to do that as many times as I can.” He muttered. She giggled lightly picking up her underwear from the ground. He started fixing himself up- buckling his pants back on.
“If you’re cool with it- I never want this to stop.” She flirted before shoving her underwear in his pocket. “Now we should get back huh?” Stephen smiled lightly tracing her lips with his thumb.
“I was hoping you would say that; but yes we should probably get back.” He laughed gently- she giggled as well before opening up the door.
“Wait for a bit and then come out.” She said turning to look back at him. He nods smacking her ass in the process.
“So commanding my love.” She rolled her eyes before leaving Stephen alone in the bathroom. She walked back into the party- still seeing everyone was here. Tony looked over at his daughter- he walked over to her a drink in his hand.
“Where were you?” He asked titling his head at her -sipping his drink. She tried not to blush, and bit her bottom lip.
“Bathroom.” She muttered trying to turn away from him. Tony scrunched his eyebrows grabbing his daughter’s wrist pulling her back and when he did she saw the hickeys on her neck- more like covered all over her neck.
“Who the flying f put that on your neck!” Tony roared eyes widen- thinking of his daughter that way made him internally angry and mad. Y/n tried to look in his eye-line but then mentally face palmed herself. Fuck. Stephen soon shortly came walking in the same direction she had which had Tony look over. His face was red- when the dots connected. “Stephen Strange!”
Uh this was not going to be a fun conversation for any of them.
Let me know what you think! You dirty little hoes 🫡🥰
