Dirty Minds 1
Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Character: Thor Odinson, Loki Laufeyson
Summary: You start a new job after being fired as a programmer and it's more than you could have anticipated. (maid AU)
Note: I should stop.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️
“Yeah, mom, I got the job,” you huff. “On my way right now. You really think Auntie would say no?”
“I know my sister,” your mother harrumphs from the other end. “She doesn’t do favours.”
“I mean, couldn’t she just give me some money instead of making me scrub floors,” you joke to the deathly silent speaker. “Alright, cool, well, guess I should go. I’m here.”
“Good luck,” your mom sighs. “Please don’t mess this up. Your father and I already postponed our vacation once.”
“I won’t,” you croak, deflated by the reminder. “Love ya.”
She hangs up without returning the sentiment. Yep, she’s still mad about that. You didn’t ask to be fired. Actually, you worked overtime and bent over backwards just to avoid the fate. It happened anyways. Every company in the state culled their numbers. Looks like your programming degree is now as coveted as English Lit.
You look up at the Upper East Side townhouse and suck your teeth. It’s just another reminder of everything you don’t have. Of everything you lost. Your order-in pad thai and sushi have given way to peanut butter on stale bread and canned soups. You can go without, it just stinks.
This should help. Aunt Jan says the job pays well if you do a good job. The more clients you can pick up, the better. For now, you’re starting out with one. Probation, she calls it. Even if your mom hates her sister, they’re more alike than she cares to admit.
You grunt as you swing the bucket of cleaning supplies with your steps up the concrete steps. The compact vacuum strapped to your back doesn’t aid in your struggle to maintain your balance. You couldn’t afford the rental fee for the company car so you schlupped everything here on the subway. Not ideal.
You put the kit down and tap the buzzer, struggling to catch your breath. There’s no answer. Jan said that might happen. Try again and if there’s no answer, let yourself in.
It’s not that complex, is it? You got through coding and calculus. You can figure out all those attachments for the vacuum. You hit the button again.
“Ah, welcome lady maid, you’ve come at last,” the booming lilted voice crackles from the speaker. You flinch. There’s a lens there too. You try to smile.
“Uh, hi,” you reply. “I was sent by the Agency.”
“Yes, yes, as Stark recommended. Please, come in. Ehhhh, which button....”
The door clicks and beeps as it unlocks. Wonderful. The blind leading the blind. That might be better. You definitely don’t need a stickler pointing out the streaks on the windows.
You push the door open and heave the bucket over the threshold. You take off your shoes and unhook the vacuum from your back. Should you start with the instructions in the app or go find your new boss?
You wander further in, sheepish as you look around the interior. There’s red satin strewn over the back of the French-style sofa and clunky boots beside it. And there’s a few takeout containers piled across from the large television. Oh, right, it definitely is a man.
“Lady maid? Is that you?” The voice calls through the doorway to your right.
You slowly follow it as you hear clinking from within. You peek into the kitchen and cry out at the scene. You don’t mean to stare at the naked ass but it’s the first thing that you see. The large man, with blond hair spilling past his shoulders, is nonchalant as he loads the coffee maker. Entirely naked!
“Uhhhhh.” Your voice unfurls dumbly and you bring your hand up to block your view. “Um. You—you're...”
“Oh my, yes, I do forget myself,” he chortles and searches around. He grabs an apron and ties it around his waist. “In Asgard, the natural form is not stigmatized. Rather, we do much unfettered. Cook, clean, wrestle.”
You reluctantly drop your hand as you’re face by the man and his immense chest. He’s huge. And familiar. He isn’t a man at all. He’s...
“Thor?” You utter dumbly.
“You know me? Did I perhaps save your cat?” He asks.
“No, I saw you... on TV.”
“Oh yes, how amusing. It was I!” He grins triumphantly. “They don’t always tell me when there are cameras.”
“Hm,” you nod awkwardly. “I... should I just start.”
“Ah, diligent maid, how admirable. To work so earnestly,” he praises and turns to grab his cup as the machine quits grinding. His ass is still out as the apron only conceals his front. You’re not going to get hung up on it. He’s probably hung too.
Wow. Wow. Keep your head above board.
“I’ll start out there,” you point over your shoulder.
“Whatever you like, lady maid.”
You retreat and try not to picture his muscular ass or statuesque shoulders or bright blue eyes. It must be a godly trick. You’re not one of those fan girls. You’re not pathetic like that.
You start in the living room. You open a bin bag and start to gather the containers. A fan of burritos, you see. You make your way around the surfaces. You should be methodic. Clutter first, then floors.
You continue back into the entryway and organize the shoe rack. You hang the cloak left on the sofa and take the boots over to the mat. There’s several cloaks and many shoes and boots. The green satin holds your curiosity. You didn’t think that was his colour.
You carry on through each room, avoiding the kitchen as long as you can. You go into the bathroom, bracing yourself. You wipe off an errant glop of toothpaste and some darker hair strands near the drain. Those are black, not blond.
A groan tickles your ear and you glance over as a shadow steps into the doorway. The lithe figure stretches his arms above him as he tilts his head back, arching so his chest puffs out and his... bits dangle freely. You squeal and cover your eyes.
“Oh god!” You cry out.
“So I am,” the other Asgardian sweeps in without bother, brushing by you as he approaches the toilet.
“Uhhhh, oh, oh,” you squeak as he flips up the lid. “Jeez!”
You hurry out of the bathroom and swing the door shut behind you as his stream hits the water loudly. You stand on the other side, breathless in shock. That was him. Loki!
You don’t know what’s more off putting. The shameless nudity or that you’ve been assigned to clean up after two gods. Not just gods, avengers. Well, at least Thor.
It doesn’t matter. You’re here to clean, so keep your eyes and your brain under control. You don’t need Aunt Jan getting a complaint, even if this is the last job you wanted.
