» implied amab!reader, jerking off while thinking on you
જ⁀➴ Thor
Even when every single one of the memories he holds of you two together has a special place in his heart there are times when he can stop his mind from bringing back the most intimate memories of the two of you. Usually he is able to brush it off and stay composed, but if he is all by himself it is harder for him to hold himself back, after all he is completely weak for you, Thor prefers to excuse himself before the memory start to become a bit too vibid and his body starts to react, because he knows he won't be able to hold himself back. He jerks off gently, slowly, taking his time, savouring the moment while trying to chase the memory of when you were doing it, he keeps his eyes close as much as he can after stuffing himself with any toy he has because he is too focused trying to remember you, the way you touch and kiss him, the way you hold him in place and open his legs, your voice teasing him with every thrust of you, but at the end he always end up making a mess, groaning and huffing, his hips move on its own to try to chase his orgasm just to finish half disapointed because it is not the same if it isn't you deep inside of him the one at his side
જ⁀➴ Poseidon
The always prideful Poseidon always keeps everything about your love behind doors, he doesn't need annoying and nosy people trying to pry in his life, that is why he is always trying to keep himself composed in the exterior, no matter how much he may want to be with you or how much the memory of your touch may plague his mind he awaits until he has the moment to slip away from the crowd to attend more important matters. And Poseidon hates that he gets aroused just by thinking about you, he looks at the bulge in his pants with some disgust, mentally cursing you for making him like this, he hesitate before freeing himself and getting more annoyed when he can practically hear you teasing him already, and for a moment he just stay still, after all, normally is you who takes care of him or even giving him orders (something only you are allowed to do), but still he grapps his hand around his cock and start jerking off, moving slowly, tentatively, muffle moans that come barely above a whisper until his mind becomes plaged with your imagine, with the memories of being completely at your mercy, he hates it and yet it makes his hand move faster and his moans grow louder
જ⁀➴ Heracles
You may cover his body with marks and even your cum, you may call him him with the worst nicknames and make him squirm and yet he will never be embarrased of you or your love, wich only made it more hilarious the fact that he does feel embarrased when he feels horny, somehow is like if him thinking about you in such way, wanting it is like a forbidden thing, something he should not be doing. And he even tried to restrain himself, to cool off his body and mind to don't bother you with something like this, and yet when he less expected he is already over your shared bed, all naked humping over a pillow, from his lips curses and moans fall as he stare at his hard cock, moving his hips in a rythm his mind can comprehend throught the embarrasement and need, Heracles still tries to keep himself quiet, to be quick to finally get over it before you find him in such pitiful state, but as he keeps thinking about you he can help but want to continue, his body clenching over nothing but the need of you inside of him
જ⁀➴ Beelzebub
He is not going to admit that he is thinking of you, he simply doesn't has time to waste on thinking about your hands touching him, about the way you tease him and shower him in words of love, of how weak his legs become just by the thought of putting himself in your hands and let you do whatever you want. He will be damed if he admited it, he doesn't want it, he doesn't deserve it and he doesn't have the time, besides he doesn't want to bother you with something as silly as him feeling horny, he will simply pretend that he is not thinking about those things, no matter how much he is actually moving his legs and hips under his desk, moving in a clumsy and somewhat pathetic way to chaise after any kind of friction on his already half hard cock, even if he tries to don't think about it he can't stop himself now, he can't even focus on his work anyways, so at the end he just gives up and indulges himself, quickly finding himself fingering his hole a bit too desperate while panting and moaning against his hand, remembering too well the feeling of having you inside of him, that feeling of almost breaking into two and yet being unable to stop his hips from chaising for more
જ⁀➴ Jack the Ripper
This man doesn't really has shame about it, at least not with you, after all you are his beloved and once he started to feel somewhat aroused by thinking about you and your oh so beautiful body, or just the way you can make him so weak, he simply accepts it with a chuckle. Again, he has no shame and the only reason he didn't told you about it it was because you weren't around, but, even so, no matter how horny he may be this is an act love, after all it was your name who's rolled out of his mouth, so he was playing himself gently, lovingly, he caressed his skin the same way you do, undress himself in the way you would do and treat himself in the way you would like, his mind were filled with the memory of you, with your voice and the feeling of your touch, of your kisses, of the way you stretch his inside, the more he thinks about you the eager he feels, he may not last too long when the memory of you already overwhelmed his senses but, since he already started he may as well do it over and over again, if he is lucky enough you will become more than just a memory and will join him eventually
cw . sub!thor, dom!reader, dumbification, degrading, thor doesn’t know how to control himself, faux manipulation/disappointment?? technical overstimulation on both parties, etc.
note . here’s The fic, the one you’ve all been waiting for 😭.
thor had gotten himself into this entire thing. he knew he wasn’t a brat by any means but he still decided to push your buttons and for what? he began to regret his decision the moment the both of you made it into your grand apartment.
you’d pushed him through the door, knowing how he could take a bit of roughhousing. his cheeks dusted with pink, and he allowed you to punish him in anyway you saw fit.
you hadn’t cared enough to lead him to the bedroom, deciding to push him towards your couch instead. the menacing floor-to-ceiling windows stared back at him intensely as you stood behind him. and in the back of his mind, he was glad your apartment was along the top floor.
“i hope you’re happy with yourself, my love.” you began, unbuckling your belt. thor took it as a sign to begin to undress himself too. smiling coyly, the next words out of your mouth sent a shiver up his spine. “i don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth unless it’s ‘yes sir’ or your safeword, do you understand me?” you order, eying him up and down in all of his naked glory.
“yes sir.” his voice sounded, and you hummed as you were pleased with his obedience.
in an instant, thor’s knees dug into the plush cushions of the deep gray couch. his hands were planted forward and his lengthy hair fluttered at his shoulders. he could faintly make out an outline of the both of you in the thick glass windows he faced.
“what’s this?” you questioned, pressing two fingers against the bejeweled plug nestled in his ass. “you’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” this time your question was rhetorical as you slowly tugged the plug out of him. he groans at the feeling of being empty — though it didn’t last long seeing as you filled him with your cock nearly immediately after.
you were behind him, planted on your knees as well as your hands kneaded his hips. his cock hung heavy, hard and throbbing between his thighs.
your hips rolled into his, and his mouth hung open. small breaths of ‘ah, ah, ah’s rang around the room; along with the downright filthy squelch of the lube that he’d used for the plug. “talk to me, baby, let me hear you,” you mumbled, and he immediately responded. “i-i’m close, ‘m so so so close, pleasepleasepleaseee,” he begs, arms quivering with having to hold up his weight.
“g-go ahead sweet thing.” you grant him permission, and as if his body was perfectly tuned to your command, he came immediately and turned the already deep gray into a darker shade.
somewhere within the fog of his brain, he would assume that you’d stop or even slow down to give him somewhat of a break; but you didn’t. your thirsts remained harsh and unforgiving as you pounded into him without remorse.
“you’re making a mess of my couch, baby. i-i would’ve thought you knew better..” you tease, faux disappointment lacing your tone. “i’m ssssorry, so so sorry,” he babbles out, ‘nnnguh! gods!” he calls out, thighs spreading even wider to accommodate the way you’re practically fucking him into the cushions.
his arms are done holding him up at the point, and he drops to the plush below him, face pressed into the soft cushions as he managed to glance at your barely-there reflections in the glass.
he reaches back, attempting to grab at you to hold onto you for purchase, but you’re not having any of it. with one hand you gather his wrists and pin them behind his back and go even harder.
your hips falter, and you know you’re about cum. thor could feel it too, clenching around you to help you along. you don’t need it though, the image of thor under you struggling to keep himself together was enough send you tumbling over the edge.
you held his ass flush to your hips as you came inside of him. your orgasm triggers his second one, and his sticky white cum joins the previous load as he drains your couch once more.
as the white noise in your ears comes to a halt and you’re slowly picking up your pace of fucking into him again, you hear it. the hard patter of rain against your windows.
“you’re still staining my couch, thor.“ you mutter, bringing your other hand down on the globe of his right ass cheek. thunder booms throughout the sky as you do and as you focus your eyes on the reflection of thor in the glass. his eyes have lighting behind them, even as his head is all foggy.
“dumb whore cant even control himself. look at how hard you’re making it rain outside love, and all because you can’t take my cock..” you taunt him and he keens, thighs quivering. lighting strikes after a particularly intense thrust and he’s babbling nonsense at this point.
“let’s- let’s see if you got one more for me, baby- fuck!” you curse, the downright filthy feeling and sound of you fucking your cum back into thors thoroughly used hole pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm.
thor’s eyes roll back, and with the way his entire body shudders and tenses up, you can feel him cum once more. the rain intensities and both thunder and lighting strike. the sounds last for as long as his orgasm does, dying down the more you fuck him through it.
the general imagery of having a god like this. all torn apart and distraught and so out of control has you feeling lightheaded. you’re muttering expletives and moaning out as you cum once against. lighting strikes again, and you can feel thor cum again; this time dry.
you let his hands go, and they stay behind his back for a little, before falling limp. you pull out slowly, hearing thor whine. you shush his whimpers, snagging the bejeweled plug he’d had in before and pushing your cum back into him and pushing the plug in after.
you help him into a sitting position as you massage his thighs and arms. you pull his hair into a small ponytail so it’s out of your way. the once raging thunderstorm out side had turned into a light sprinkle of rain.
“i’m sorry about your couch,” he apologizes sadly, cheeks dusting with red. “it’s okay love, honestly. it was hot to watch you make a mess for me,” you told him, and he only blushed harder if it was possible.
“you ready to shower?” you ask him, leaning back onto the side of the couch that didn’t have a cum stain. “no, not yet. hold me for little?” he asks, and he makes himself look so small in the moment; you couldn’t decline even if you wanted to. “come on my love,” you beckon him and he falls into your arms with a smile.
cw; dom reader, male reader, sub thor, dumbification, thor it's so cute here, messy sex, a lit bit of degradation
having the mentioned god under your mercy and your orders was the most satisfying thing and it gave you a power that was too exhilarating.
thor was known to be a serious, imposing and not at all easy to handle god. it was ironic how that same man, strong and with beautiful red hair, found himself covering with his hand his shameless whimpering.
with every thrust you gave him as you massaged his big, erect cock, thor melted into convulsions of pleasure and let out the sweetest moans you had ever heard.
"how beautiful, to have you like this, all to myself." you whispered between his lips, you had removed his annoying hand and moved in so that their breaths brushed.
thor glistened before you, from the sweat that all the action was causing him. his reddish strands adorned part of his face and the pillows. he looked so divine.
you moaned a little as your lover's entrance pressed so tightly on your cock. you felt him slowly devouring you and you couldn't hold back.
"you like this, cutie?" you mentioned, pausing your movements and making a slow, slow, smooth back and forth motion so that your entire expanse of flesh penetrated deep inside the god's interior.
he only fluttered his eyes and was now biting hard on his reddish lips, almost drawing blood.
you took his hands and imprisoned them above his head. now you increased the movements, watching how his body moved in the same way before the violent penetrations. you lowered the intensity again. you just wanted Thor to feel and enjoy everything.
even though he didn't say much in sex, his cheeks colored when he looked at you and his eyes became sweet and laughing when it was time to take you. it showed so much.
"are you ok, thor? can't you take me at all well today?" you asked licking his ear lobe. causing his body to vibrate in nervousness.
"mhm…" only a vague affirmation came out of his mouth. more and more lost in the way you were taking him.
"are you sure? it seems to me that you are just so excited that you can't even control yourself. talk to me." you mentioned without stopping penetrating him and rubbing yourself next to him.
thor opened his mouth but it only served to let out the most embarrassing sound of pleasure, his eyes blurred with ecstasy. his mouth curved slowly and a faint smile did not leave his face.
"nnngh!"
aaaa he was so lost. there was no point in talking to him anymore. but you still wanted to tease him.
"mmm i see, so me fucking you like this, makes you lose your mind…" you gave a strong jerk making your balls slam against his ass. completely engulfed, that's how you stayed. "i love it."
thor was now holding on to the sheets as he spread his legs wide open watching you penetrate him, as if that still wasn't enough. he was just breathing and offering you his holes, not doing anything else. he only gasped when it was too much for him, his cock was swinging, spurting pre-siminal fluid and biting his lips to keep from screaming.
"look at you thor, being fucked so dirty, just like a whore." your breathing was ragged and you felt on the verge.
thor shook his head in approval as his hands reached for your buttocks to make you undulate further.
"so, do you really think so, tell me, tell me thor, use that little mouth."
he looked at you at a loss and then went back to watching as your cock buried itself in his hole, he said repeatedly.
"you fuck me like a whore… your whore." he moaned, letting out incongrex words to repeat the same thing again.
Ughrggrrhggrhr Thor i adore that man, may the lord have mercy because I have thought of this man so much that I may as well have rotten my brain,
UGHHHHHH HE IS SO MOMMY
like please let me bite your thighs so hard you bleed, pleaaaaSEEEE let me fuck you so hard your intestines shift inside you, PUT ME IN A HEADLOCK WITH THOSE MAJESTIC ARMS OF YOURS SIR
oh thor 😫😫😫 he was the one i had my eyes on before heracles appeared
he's so— ywhwkflwveuskwbrn
he would look so pretty crying („• ֊ •„) and i'm pretty sure he would be into u biting him until he bleeds, honestly. after all, he looks so pretty in red ♡
i don't have much to say about him though because i haven't watched the show in a while 😔 still we can talk about ror (•؎ •)
Loki didn't respond, too focused on trying to push up the front of Thor's shirt, fingers blindly brushing over his skin. He knew that Thor was right; huddled in the back of a weapons room hardly made a secure hiding place. At any moment, a training warrior could walk in to switch out his weapon or polish his blade, only to catch the two brothers in a damning position.
But Loki didn't care. He knew what he wanted; and he wanted it now. He didn't want to be kept waiting, and it wasn't as though Thor had put up much of a fight when he dragged him back here.
At last, the fabric was bundled up, and beneath, Thor's ample chest, now even more impressive after what Loki had done to him. His nipples, already perky and red, were starting to leak in response to his touch.
Loki squeezed and groped, unable to fight the grin that started to form on his face, and Thor yelped, grabbing at his hands, forcing him to slow down.
Thor enjoyed it, too, Loki knew, even if he acted like he didn't. He had already made him come multiple times without even the slightest touch to his cock.
"We'll be quick." Loki assured him, moving in to steal a lazy kiss from Thor, which he returned, furthering Loki's certainty that he wanted this.
Thor just nodded, looking at him with eyes clouded over with want, even moving in to hold his shirt up for Loki. And Loki grinned, shooting him a wink before he pressed his lips just beside one of Thor's nipples.
"Just get it over with." Thor shut his eyes, his face heating up. Loki's hand wandered down to Thor's crotch, and was pleased to find him already straining and hard in his trousers.
He would have traded him for longer, but since they were rather pressed for time, Loki relented; his lips closed around one of Thor's nipples, tongue flicking over the tender nub. He was rewarded with a low, barely-restrained moan from Thor; a sound Loki could never get tired of. He sucked gently, and was rewarded with a mouthful of milk. It was slightly sweet, pleasantly warm and comforting. Despite being in such a risky position, Loki instantly felt relaxed, letting his eyelids shut halfway as he suckled lazily at Thor's breast, the taste of his milk and the sounds of his pretty moaning were the only things that seemed to matter.
He was so out of it that he didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and the only thing that snapped him out of his milk-induced haze was Thor gasping and forcibly trying to yank him off as the door open.
It was too late, though. Loki broke off and glanced over his shoulder, body going tense and rigid, before his eyes settled on their intruder.
"Fandral." Loki breathed out, and there was relief in his tone. Relief that it hadn't been a guard or another warrior. Someone who was less of a degenerate than the man who looked upon the scene in surprise, and then quickly closed the door behind him.
"What—get out!" Thor snapped, pushing Loki further away when it became clear that Fandral wasn't leaving. Loki looked at him curiously.
"And miss out on whatever it is that's happening in here? I'm afraid not, my friend." Fandral said cheekily, pushing a box in front of the door before moving closer to the pair. He was a bit of a mess; clearly having just gotten off the arena, but still no less as charming as always.
Loki smirked over at him, relaxing once again. "You're in for a treat, then."
Thor looked between the two of them in shock. Betrayal clearly stung in his voice when he addressed Loki; "No. No, I knew this was a bad idea, brother." He started to push his shirt back down as Fandral looked upon his body lecherously.
"Oh come now, don't be greedy. Fandral is our friend, is he not?" Loki asked, gripping the hem of Thor's shirt to prevent him from pushing it down.
"I'm not in the habit of performing sex acts with friends." Thor said.
"Interesting. But you'll do them with your brother?" Fandral asked.
"Shut up, Fandral." Loki said. "And it's hardly a sex act, however much you get off on it. It's intimate, but nothing more, really."
A lie. They both could get off on it. And there wasn't a doubt in Loki's mind that Fandral would as well.
Thor started to protest some more, but Loki reached over, squeezing one of his nipples hard enough to make Thor yelp. A thin stream of milk sprayed out, landing on the floor, wasted.
Fandral watched, a mix of intrigue and confusion on his face. "Is... Is that...?" He stammered, pointing over to the droplets on the floor.
"Yes." Loki drawled, his fingers still clasping Thor's nipple between them, though he didn't squeeze again.
Fandral moved closer, glancing curiously at Thor's chest. He reached over, grazing his fingers over the firm, swollen flesh, looking back up at his friend to make sure he wasn't opposed. And Thor, though he was trying to put on the act that he didn't want it, practically melted at being touched by the both of them, shivering as his eyes fell shut.
"Go on and have a taste, my friend." Loki said, giving Fandral a playful shove.
Fandral smiled, flicking his thumb teasingly over Thor's nipple, causing the crown prince to moan loudly, pressing up against the wall.
"As generous of an offer that is, my dear, I'll have to pass." He said, though he did not tear his eyes away from Thor's chest.
Loki looked at him in surprise. It was not like Fandral to turn down such an offer. "Why?"
Fandral laughed softly, seeming to know his reason was a bit ridiculous. "I don't care much for milk, I'm afraid."
"Oh, but you haven't tried Thor's. It's not like any other kind." Loki insisted.
"I've tried many kinds. I've liked none of them." Fandral said adamantly, beginning to sound a bit like a child who refused to eat their dinner. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Thor's neck while he still idly played with his nipple.
Thor tilted his head, exposing more of his neck to Fandral, shivering with pleasure as Fandral nipped at it. His eyes fell on Loki, who smiled, clearly enjoying what he saw.
"But don't let me stop you both." Fandral said softly, though he still kept close to Thor.
"Go on. If you don't mind me watching, of course."
They didn't.
Loki dipped his head, once again latching onto one of Thor's nipples, this time sucking hard, his teeth brushing over the tender flesh. Thor started to cry out, but Fandral moved in, catching his lips in a kiss, silencing him, save for a few muffled sounds that managed to slip out.
"Nine, Lo really turned you into his bitch, didn't he?" Fandral said lightly. "This is why you're always training with your shirt on, isn't it?"
Thor groaned, reaching over to grab onto one of Fandral's arms so he wouldn't pull away, his earlier hesitation seemingly having vanished.
"Can you come like this?" Fandral asked, pressing just a little harder down on Thor's nipple, so that milk beaded out of the tip, slowly starting to dribble down onto his fingers.
Thor gasped sharply, nodding, only to let out a "fuck." as Loki bit down further on his nipple.Loki pulled off, leaving Thor mewling in frustration, and, with a mouthful of milk, kissed Fandral.
And perhaps if the milk had come from anywhere else, this would have ended quite badly. However, the milk slipped on to Fandral's tongue as Loki swapped it to him, and when he had swallowed it down, it was clear that he wanted more, as though put under a spell.
Loki smiled knowingly, before turning back to Thor's tit, kneading the tender flesh.
"Loki..." Thor murmured, shifting to try and grind his arousal up against him, but Loki evaded him, latching on to his nipple once more, eyes falling shut as he drank down his milk.
Fandral moved closer, and Thor saw him, suddenly becoming desperate. He reached down, grabbing a fistful of his tit, a few droplets of milk forming at his nipple as he did so. "Please..." He begged.
Fandral didn't need any more convincing. He bent down, his lips closing over Thor's nipple, milk already flooding out before he had started to suck. His eyes widened briefly in surprise, having to pause to swallow down the warm, heavenly liquid. It was like nothing he had ever tasted. And it certainly didn't hold a candle to other milk he had drank in the past.
He suckled far more gently at Thor’s tit, clearly cautious about overstepping a boundary. Loki, on the other hand, just took what he already knew to be his, biting down hard enough to leave marks around Thor’s nipple, intent on draining him of all he was worth.
The contrast itself was enough to drive Thor mad, never mind the pleasure that the release of the milk gave him. His eyes rolled up, and he again started to jut his hips forward, desperate for a little more stimulation.
Loki would have been content to take his fill and leave Thor needy afterwards, but thankfully for Thor, Fandral was more generous. He shifted a thigh between Thor’s legs, letting him grind up against it as he lapped up the never-ending stream of milk.
Thor's moans grew louder, possibly loud enough to alert anyone near enough of what was happening inside, but the three of them couldn't bring themselves to care. He ground up against Fandral’s thigh faster, harder.
“I-I’m close.” He whispered, every suckle from the two men drinking from him pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Loki broke off of his tit, moving up close to Thor.
“Come for us, brother.” He whispered into his ear, kissing him roughly on the lips.
Thor could taste his own milk when Loki kissed him, and Fandral chose that moment to bite down harder on his nipple.
There was no hope for him to resist any longer, with a muffled cry, he came, his body seizing and then shaking as his orgasm crashed over him, his spend shooting into his trousers, a wet patch forming, though he couldn’t bring himself to care.
His knees felt weak, and if not for Fandral still supporting him, he would have collapsed down to his knees.
Fandral looked up, detaching from Thor’s tit, his nipple red and swollen and still dripping. He smiled, coming up to kiss Thor as well, and Thor submitted to it, his eyes falling shut.
“It’s our turn, brother.” Loki murmured, already starting to unbuckle Thor’s trousers. It always ended up like this. Loki drank his milk and then fucked him. This time would be no different, except that Fandral was there.
And Thor didn’t object, already having anticipated it. He would come again, and that was what mattered now. He didn’t care if anyone heard, or the looks they might get when they left.
Thor was bent over some storage crates, wincing as his sore tits were pressed against the flat surface, some milk leaking out onto it.
Loki got behind him, grinding his hardness up against his ass. Fandral came in front of him, his own tented erection just at eye level with him.
Thor blushed as Loki pulled his trousers down, smacking his ass harshly enough that the sound reverberated in the small room. He blushed even further as Fandral pulled out his cock, mouth already watering—something that Loki had already conditioned him to do upon seeing any cock.
He moaned as Loki pushed inside him, and Fandral took advantage of his open mouth, sliding his cock in past his lips. Thor’s eyes widened a touch. He had never taken two at once, and this quickly became overwhelming in the best way.
“I think you might have gotten me hooked, darling.” Fandral grunted as he started to fuck Thor’s mouth.
"Oh? I thought you didn’t like milk?” Loki asked innocently.
Fandral smiled, and leaned over closer. Thor moaned as more of his cock was shoved down his throat, though he clearly liked this, judging by how he was already hard again.
Loki met Fandral half-way, sheathing his length fully inside his brother as he kissed.
Steve could state his hunger by biting down on Thor's neck. Carving beautiful patterns into Thor's skin and licking up the blood that spills from his art is far more satisfying for them both.
For the:
✦ @thundershieldbingo 2024 Mini Bingo - Knife Play [Card #4 "Kink"]
Word count: N/a - Moodboard
Title: Drawn Red
Rating: Explicit
Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Pairings: Steve Rogers/Thor
Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor
Warnings: Sexual Content, Partial Nudity, Blood, Blood Drinking, Knives, BDSM, Bondage
Major Tags: Vampire AU, Established Relationship, Knife Play, Roses, Vampire Steve Rogers, Artist Steve Rogers, Dom Steve Rogers, Sub Thor
~
Summery: Steve could state his hunger by biting down on Thor's neck. Carving beautiful patterns into Thor's skin and licking up the blood that spills from his art is far more satisfying for them both.
summary: "[C]ommunion doesn’t need to be holy. Or even decent." - THOMAS C. FOSTER
After one of Tony’s men injures one of yours, he must present a peace offering in order to keep his black market distributor business afloat.
Good news: you accept the gift.
Bad news: the gift is Thor.
pairing: Thor Odinson x Reader
words: 5,863
trigger warnings: dubcon ig, humiliation, heavy d/s dynamics, mentions of canon-level violence, use of gags, collars, basically kidnapping, dehumanization (sexual and nonsexual)
notes/other: this fic is entirely self-indulgent and i am anticipating sequels bc i .... love it. enjoy!
sk box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi
The obnoxiously long, dark oak table lays mostly bare, the only places set are the ones at each end of the exquisitely made piece of furniture.
The pink, sheer robe you’re wearing does nothing to hide the matching baby pink lace lingerie, just as the equally feminine heels donned with a strip of pink puff across the base of the toes would do nothing to protect your perfectly manicured feet from the harm of the eerie storm raging outside. Still, the garments and accessories are not meant to be something that cover you up, keep you warm, help you run from danger; they’re tools, tools you’ll hopefully use to get your way as the final meal of the evening approaches.
The entire event is set up just the way you want, with your makeup setting just as expected; the pig roasted to perfection, the pasta firm to the touch, the carrots and broccoli steamed until palatable, the champagne chilled. Most important, though, was the arrival of your guest. At exactly 6:05, your head butler comes in to notify you of the car pulling in front of your expansive home. With the wave of your hand she’s instructed to let the man come in, allow your rival to step into the palace you’d constructed for yourself when you’d risen to the top of your organization.
Well, maybe “rival” is the wrong word. “Rival” implies an active dislike or struggle, when in reality you two operate in separate spheres of influence.
“Companion,” though, seems too friendly.
As the distinct sounds of footsteps filter through the grand hall and into your study, the man you’ve decided to call “fellow leader” steps into sight. His fine pressed suit, dry as the Sahara desert, smiles as you come into his view.
“Ah, my favorite mob woman.” His eyes seems more sinister than you expected. You attribute it more to the dark tones of the evening rather than actual malice.
“Stark,” you say with a curt nod. You go up to exchange a kiss on each cheek, heart racing with the anticipation of what’s to come, excitement increasing with each step. “Come, we have a wonderful meal prepared for you.”
Anthony doesn’t protest, simply accepts a glass of Scotch a maid hands to him and follows you into the dining room. He chuckles a bit at the display you’ve put on, but doesn’t say anything outright. You two have enough respect for the other not deny their counterpart the joy of a dramatic display. He simply sits, the pig placed in the middle of the table large enough to be an obvious sign of wealth but not too big as to deny the two of you eye contact.
Small talk is exchanged as the meal is served, biscuits placed, and pork cut into thick slabs. Vegetables placed delicately on plates and napkins placed on laps. You ask how Pepper is doing, he asks if the dress you had handmade from some extravagant designer turned out how you wanted. Half your plates are clear before either of you truly start to converse.
You’re the first to break the silence as Anthony begins on his mashed potatoes. “I appreciate your understanding of the deal. I’m not a fan of bloodshed, and the demonstration at the club that night are something I wish to forgive and forget as soon as possible.”
Anthony nods, speaking around a bite of the creamy starch. “I agree. Odinson’s actions were inappropriate, wildly and unpredictably so. In truth, I’ve thought he was a liability since he joined, but I never thought he’d lash out like that.”
As you slice through a particularly thick cut of meat, your fork slips and scraps against the china. Both of your winkles your noses at the grating sound.
“Yes,” You pause to chew. “cutting off Barnes’ arm during a bar fight does seem a little…” The bite of biscuit you had gotten was just perfect, the equal amount of butter and brown sugary, apple flavor from the pork together. God, you really do love a good meal. “Rash.”
Your guest hums in agreement. He then clears his throat, preparing to talk. “To symbolize my apologies, I have brought you the gift we spoke of earlier,” he pauses, raising his left hand just above his elbow and bending his first two fingers forward. You sit up, intrigued.
As the large French doors behind him open, from the dark depths of your hallway comes the man who scarred your oldest friend for life, cost you hundreds of thousands of dollars in medical bills, and has put your best hitman out of commission. He’s tall, fills the doorway like a key in a lock. His scruff thick and dark, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.
Something deep in you stirs, and squeezing your thighs together does nothing to stop it.
Thor Odinson is clad in a suit, as most of Stark’s enforcers are. Though, the handcuffs keeping his hands behind his back are new.
“Interesting addition,” you note, staring at his straining arms in the expensive fabric.
Anthony doesn’t give any indication that he hears, let alone cares, about your sarcastic comment. “I’m assuming this” he gestures to the man. “Will put me back in good spirits with you and the rest of your crew?”
Odinson walks to your side, head hung in shame and hair tied in a tight bun as his former employer speaks. He knows what he’s in for now, has been told in so many words he is now something less of a person – and it’s obvious this has put him to shame.
You consider it – think about letting all that happened go with a simple olive branch. Before you can do that, though, you must make sure that the merchandise lives up to the promises on the box.
“Down,” you command. Immediately, he drops to his knees. You smirk, dragging your baby pink nails down his stubbled jaw.
“Oh, yes. This will do just fine, Stark. Just…fine.” The last two words are long, almost forgetting to finish them as your mind travels to all the things you could do with him.
Anthony smirks. “Perfect. I’m assuming business with resume as usual?”
Your fingers stroke at the sides of Thor’s face and trace around the shell of his ear. “Of course. I’ll call the appropriate people later. Everything should be up and running by midnight.”
Suddenly Anthony tenses, his fingers moving to fidget with his tie. “If I may-”
“You may,” you tell him, not meeting his eyes.
Anthony audibly gulps, fidgeting in his seat and with his tie. “That’s quite late, that’s hundreds of millions of dollars that we’ll miss out on if we-”
You hold up your hand flat while your gaze remains locked on your new toy. “That’s the earliest I can assure you. Whether or not it happens before that is,” you stop to try and feed Thor a small bite of carrot from your hand. He hesitates but accepts after a few moments, plucking the orange vegetable with beautiful teeth and a gentle bite. He doesn’t make eye contact like you originally wanted, but this is a good start. “Not guaranteed.”
Anthony knows that you’re stubborn, much too stubborn to be moved away from your current stance. He’s done all that he can do to sway you, and now whatever income he hopes to make between now and the end of the day depends on Thor.
In short, Anthony Stark Junior (and his bank account) are royally, utterly fucked.
As he leaves your home he can hear you call to your head servant to tell Customs and Border Patrol to let his packages in (an assured start to him not losing a fortune), but he still wrings his hands as he slides into the backseat of his solid black Escalade. As the partition opens to reveal the man at the wheel, the thought of angry text messages from smugglers trying to get their goods into the States flash in front of Stark’s bloodshot eyes.
His driver, Happy, notices the fellow man’s anxiety as he looks at his boss through the rearview mirror.
“You think Odinson is gonna be okay, boss?” He asks, sort-of worried but mostly focused on filling the deafening silence in the expensive car. Money can buy a lot of things, but it can’t fill the awkward spaces in conversation that always come post-transaction.
Tony just laughs, typing something into his watch. “Of course not. That woman is going to chew him up and spit him out by the end of the fiscal year.”
Happy chews at his bottom lip. That’s two weeks from now. “You really think it’s gonna be that quick?”
“Probably,” Tony shrugs. “She’s never been known for mercy.”
The other man nods, quiet as he makes his way to the Stark residence. The quiet, cold night air strikes the mobster as he steps out of the car; the sharp grass smells fills his sense and bloodstream, calming him as he steps into his home. Pepper’s at the counter, stirring something in a pot. She doesn’t turn around when she hears his footsteps, but knows he’s somber nonetheless.
“Hard day at the office?” She asks, giving him a small taste of the homemade alfredo sauce.
Tony snorts, moving to lick at the wooden spoon. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around her waist. She’s in one of his t-shirts and sleep shorts, the soft material comforting him. “You could say that.”
You only make good decisions when you’re in a good mood, and right now said mood depends on Thor Odinson - a man so insecure he once got himself tortured just because his captors told him he couldn’t take it. The man is a stubborn, uncontrollable mess with an anger issue to rival that of Lyssa, or a lighting on a field of dried grass.
He was feared within the Nest and by the lower Excidium members, but he didn’t make palms sweat and hands shake and hearts beat faster quite like you do.
No one fucks with you because you’ve very appropriately placed yourself on a pedestal based on madness, control, and desire for power. Thor’s just feared because he’s a dumbass with a short fuse. It’s the difference between a forest fire and a crazy, drunken uncle holding a lighter; one you can try and prevent, coax it into submission and run away if necessary. The other? More unstable than Francium.
(At least you know that thing’s only going to last twenty-two minutes, though. At least it’s predictable in its instability.)
Back inside, you’re more than ecstatic to have a new plaything. You were fully prepared to let the kid’s behavior slide, especially since the Nest brings in a hefty amount of revenue. But if Tony wants to give up a weak link, you’ll gratefully treasure the broken piece of steel you picked up from the gravel.
Thor stays like that, on his knees and eating out of your hand, for so long his legs fall asleep. You spend the rest of the night chatting at nobody, talk to him like he’s an old, deaf cat who just remains in your favor because he’s soft to pet and is cute. You sign some deals, check the language of some proposed treaties, write your to-do list for the next day all at the dinner table. Thor only dares to look at you when you’re too busy conversing with maids or chastising someone who works under you or any time your head is turned enough that he can make out the scar that runs from behind your left ear to the back of your neck.
Your form, the way you speak, he’s obsessed with his chance finally take it all in.
He hasn’t seen you in person before, just heard rumors and conspiracy theories and whatever else people spend their time making up about you. Thor always passed it off as fiction, simply inflating the higher-ups to pass the time. Everything about you, though, seems exceptionally true. Maybe even underestimations. It’s true you walk around your house in matching lingerie sets, possibly a robe if it’s breezy. The East Coast heat can be unexpectedly warm, but as the sun sets on the July day he can see goosebumps rise across your soft skin and the shivers that sometimes shake your spine. Your house fits all the descriptions he’s heard, too. The decor seems almost welcoming, faded oranges and pastel pinks and dull whites and baby blues and mustard yellows. Plush, velvet furniture the same deep magenta, mirrors trimmed in what Thor can assume is real gold.
It’s like a scene from Mean Chicks or whatever those 2000s teen movies are. If one of those movies took place in the home of an incredibly powerful mobster, it’d look like this.
“What do you think, pet?”
Oh shit. Thor was supposed to be listening, wasn’t he? When he looks up, Bucky Barnes (the man who called him a pussy and “Stark’s whore,” prompting him to grab one of the decorative - but still fully functional - swords from the wall of the bar they were in and just...slice away at his tormentor), Steve Rogers (who looks like the human version of a sugar cookie while specializing in torture) , and Sam Wilson (a sarcastic little shit who knows exactly how to get anything past the feds) are all staring down at him. Barnes’ left arm (stub? It’s mostly just stub now) is still bandaged, but he’s at least walking now. Thor was told he might die from blood loss, but no. Thor Odinson would never be that lucky.
“They never listen, do they?” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you shift to face them. None of the men sit, knowing they won’t be there long. Plus, they get a much better angle of Thor’s tortuous position while standing.
“You don’t think that deserves punishment?” Steve asks, a smile curling at the sides of his mouth that speaks volumes.
You shrug, not looking at him. “Later. Now I want you to donate fifty thousand to the Vermont special elections. I need that entry point into Canada or else there’s no way we can get out shipments into that garbage country in a timely manner. Also,” you turn to Sam, whose eyes are caught staring between Thor’s left upper ribs. “Call CBP. Stark held up his end of the deal, I have to hold up mine.”
All three of them huff, both at the large sum of cash you’re about to give to a twenty-something know-nothing frat guy who knows nothing about politics but everything about being open to bribes and about them not being able to watch the man they hate become the most embarrassed version of himself in front of the man he tried to kill and his two best friends.
Whatever. The trio’s time for revenge will come, you promised them that - promised Bucky when he was in the ICU that you would find the man that did this and would make them pay.
Bucky has never known you to break a promise.
When the three leave you and Thor, you raise your left arm high flick your wrist towards the large doors. Understanding the cue, your maids wordlessly close them to seclude you from whatever responsibilities you were intending on dealing with tonight. Whatever it is, was, can wait until tomorrow, can wait until you’ve begun Thor’s assimilation into your home.
There’s a moment of quiet, of stillness in the house before Thor hears the sounds of several pairs of footsteps – maybe four, he counts – that enter the large dining room with haste. He’s quickly escorted down a long hallway and up a winding set of stairs. Thor can’t see much as he’s rushed away, and the little he can make out is a baby blue wallpaper with gold patterns etched into it, and fine paintings that appear sporadically on the walls. Some are black and white with abstract patterns, others depictions of angels, a few featuring intricate designs that resemble the sky and sea.
It feels like a forever before Thor is slammed down onto the floor of your bedroom, his knees hitting the wood with a painful smack. Despite the earsplitting sound, he doesn’t wince, doesn’t even flinch as his hair is pulled back by one of the maids so he’s forced to look at you. As you gaze upon him he bares his teeth; you can see fire behind his eyes. What a cutie, you muse to yourself.
“Wrists,” you instruct. Another maid moves behind him with dusty pink rope, securing his wrists together behind his back. “Legs,” you tell them next. Thor is easily flipped onto his back, arched at an uncomfortable angle because of his arms. Just as quickly as before, his legs are tied so that his calves and the backs of his thighs meet. When he’s flipped back up, all he can see is you smiling devilishly. “I’ll do the rest myself ladies. Go ahead and take the night off, I want him all to myself.”
“Yes ma’am” they respond in unison, Thor unable to see their hurried steps but understanding that when he hears the door closing behind them, he’s completely and utterly alone.
For a moment you two just stare at each in silence, his nostrils flaring and chest rising from anger and adrenaline. He heaves as you calmly gaze upon him, pissing off your captive even more. All Thor can do is react while you stand there, stationary and speechless.
Within a few moments, he’s lashing out to break the painful quiet. “This fucking sucks,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “That Barnes fucking deserved that shit, you know? He’s a whiny bitch that gets into shit he doesn’t belong in. I bet he’s fucking compensating for something, ya know? He’s not even a big enough man to come at me himself, needs his master to do his bidding ‘n shit. Why the fuck am I ever here anyway, do you go through boytoys so fucking often you just steal them so that you don’t have to pa-“
You roll your eyes, shoving three fingers into his mouth. Thor looks more confused than anything else, but he does immediately stop talking. Good, exactly what you wanted.
You two stay like that, your jaw tightened with one eyebrow raised – daring him to defy you - and him looking up at you like a puppy who’s just pissed on the carpet in defiance. “Listen, you little brat. I used to babysit for twenty dollars an hour. I put myself through grad school twice on money from too-rich white-ass parents who couldn’t control their kids so they pawned them off to underpaid college kids. I got here because I worked for it, dealing with men much more powerful than you acting like children. If you think for a fucking second that I will tolerate this behavior in my house, under my roof, then you are wrong. Very wrong. Do you understand me?”
Thor’s eyes narrow, and though he doesn’t bite, he does press his teeth into the skin of your first knuckle. It’s enough to keep your attention entirely on him, eyes locked on his as you throw your phone onto the bed next to you. You know this game, and you know breaking first would mean he has some sort of holding over you. Unblinking, you stay silent as he swallows around your fingers.
The tension in the air is thick; it’s nothing you can’t handle, nothing you aren’t used to. Thor is the first one to surrender, looking down at your baby pink stilettos. “Good boy,” you huff, moving to open a drawer that conveniently sits just within arm’s reach. You withdraw you hand from his mouth but don’t move to wipe his spit from your fingers. Thor can’t see anything you’re doing, but does hear a smaller (and less used, judging by the squeaking noise it makes as you open it) drawer open, the sound of a little bell, and then the loud scraping of both drawers closing on top of each other and hitting the back of the structure that holds it.
“Head up,” you command. “Look at me.” Thor’s hesitant but ultimately obeys. His eyes widen as he sees the items in your hand. The first is a simple, black ball gag and the other a frilly, pink collar with a small bow and equally tiny bell at the front center. In the back, an adjustable metal clip.
The gag is slipped on first, the uncomfortably large sphere blocking any searing remarks from leaving his lips. As spit pools below his tongue and from the corners of his mouth, all he can do is growl low in his throat.
Despite your long, pointed nails you open the clasp of the collar with ease, flashing it close to your captive’s face like an owner showing a dog his new restraint. Thor may be your pet, and you may be his rightful owner, but the move isn’t one that builds trust. It’s one that makes his insides curl, because it’s a demonstration of how much power you have over him. Look at this thing, the gesture conveys. Do you understand now? You’re mine. Everyone will know that. Everyone will know what you did. This is your retribution.
“Are you gonna shut up now?” Thor doesn’t move, but he also doesn’t make any disgruntled noises. “Good. Now, let me make myself clear, since it appears you do not know the terms of Stark’s and my agreement; Stark settled to give me the man who permanently injured one of my best men in exchange for my forgiveness of the entire event. That means two things. First, Stark gets the money he needs from my business in order to remain powerful. Second, I get to do whatever I want to you. Understand?”
Thor’s eyebrows furrow. What do you want to do to him?
“For now, though, I am going to untie you and go to bed, because I am tired, and it has been an exhausting day. Got it?”
Thor nods.
“Good.”
He flinches as you kneel down to his level and begin to untie him from the complicated binds. Your fingers move with purpose, your nails occasionally scraping across his electrified skin. With his body uninhibited, he flexes his fingers as to examine the indents in his flesh.
“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “Those will go away by morning.”
Somehow, he doesn’t believe you.
He spends the night on the cold wooden floor, occasionally making a desperate attempt to fit himself on the tiny plush pink carpet that the dresser rests on. Thor doesn’t get much shut-eye, time either spent shivering or trying to plan for survival. He can’t escape, it’s been made very clear that both Excidium and the Nest will both be hunting him down if he so much as pisses where he’s not supposed to. It seems keeping his mouth shut, following orders, and taking whatever it is you want to put him through with whatever tiny amount of dignity he has left.
(As the night progresses, he realizes the last part will be the hardest).
When the world comes alive again, Thor remains mostly ignored. As the sun comes up and you awaken with your alarm, he barely gets so much as a brush of fabric as you pull off your white nightgown and slip into a pale-yellow sundress with a long, white cardigan. It’s much different than what you were wearing last night, but as you readjust the strap of your lacey white bra from its improper place on your shoulder, he guesses that was more show(wo)manship and a reiteration of hierarchies than an honest exchange between business partners.
As the first full day under your whim progresses, he’s left behind as you move to your office. You feel some time apart may be good for his insolence, even if his fierceness amuses you so.
You like a challenge, especially one you know you can win; a little tussle didn’t hurt anybody, has it?
You instruct one of the new recruits to buy you a dog bed – the largest one they can find – and you have it placed on the floor next to your bed so you can keep an easy eye on him throughout the day. Thor’s kept on a leash attached to the collar on his neck; the piece of leather is flimsy at best, but the man still refuses to break out of it for fear of punishment.
There, on a large, baby pink pet meant for some Doberman or Pitbull or other bigass dog, he waits, ears perking up whenever someone, anyone steps into the room. But, while he craves human contact, the hushed voices of the maids that clean up the dirty clothes and make your bed make the hairs on the back of Thor’s neck stand in fear.
Natasha, lover, retribution.
Bucky, money, revenge.
Loki, trip, return.
He can’t tell which name fills him more with dread. Barnes is barely healed and full of rage at his injury, desperate for vengeance against the man that hurt him so. Natasha Romanoff is a woman that Thor has never truly met, only seen when Stark and you have business that requires some back up. Even so, the stories of her apathy and brutality need no introduction; once, she cut a dude’s dick off, made a wallet from the foreskin, and sent it to him while he was recovering in the hospital. She carries a switchblade in the inside of her bra. She only has red hair because the blood crusted onto it permanently stains the follicles.
And Loki…
Well, Loki and him have been estranged since they were both late teens. They’ve both had daddy issues since birth, and Loki’s so happened to manifest in a weird mix of picking up mercenary work, becoming a serial sugar baby, and wearing a lot of black. The last thing Thor would expect is for Loki to settle down for someone like you, a woman who requires loyalty of heart, mind, soul.
His thumping heart and terrifying internal monologue are interrupted by a maid, one he hadn’t yet seen, whose face scrunches up when she notices your absence from the room. She then sighs, and beckons two other maids – one pushing a cart filled with a small buffet of food, one carrying a cart with cutlery and dinnerware – through the threshold. The three of them stop at a bone-white desk, fretting about as they set up what Thor can only assume is a late lunch.
As you step into the bedroom – pushed through the doorway by the maid from before – Thor can tell you are less than happy.
You’re annoyed, to say the least. Can’t even tell why, really, can’t find an even barely comprehendible reason for you to be tearing through financial documents as if they were important family heirlooms that were on fire. No reason for you to snap at a recent recruit for misspelling the code name of a spy you had placed in the Nevada Supreme Court three courts back. Some madness bites at your skin as you nibble on small sandwiches and drink a large glass of cold sun tea, and Thor can tell it’s tearing you apart.
Thor can’t see much from the floor, but he can feel the electricity in the air as you scribble in a notebook that he guesses is where you plan all of your mob’s heinous activities. He wonders what your handwriting looks like, how you keep all the people you’re blackmailing straight, what kind of code you use. Stark keeps everything on paper as well, in a locked room inside of a secret room inside of his basement (well, maybe. Thor’s never been there, he’d never gotten high enough in the Nest to warrant being given access to such a space, but he’s heard the rumors).
It's about an hour later when the head butler from before, the one who led him, his (former) boss, and his (former) bosses men through your maze of a home, steps just into view of your tired eyes.
“Miss, you need a break,” she says simply.
You sigh, rubbing at the bridge of your nose and then your temples. Resting your head in one hand, you use the other to grant her permission to grab your paperwork. It’s only when she’s gather your things and left the room that you speak.
“She’s right,” you let out a small chuckle before sauntering over to the white dresser in the far corner of the room. “I do need a stress reliever.”
The man on your floor can’t see what you’re doing, his eyes only widening when you place the thickest, blackest dildo he’s ever seen into his view.
“Wh-“he starts to speak, trying but failing to push himself away from you. “What are you doing to do with that?”
You shrug, eyeing it up and down. “I don’t know. Could fuck myself with it…could fuck you with it…”
Thor’s stubbled face is beet red from embarrassment, even more so than when you made him kneel in the dining room or gagged him with your fingers.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little slut,” you hiss. When he doesn’t look up at you, you grab his chin and force his head back. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it wouldn’t be fun if he just gave in the second you put the tiniest bit of pressure on his overly-tough facade. “Tell me you love sucking my cock.”
But all Thor does is open his mouth wide as it can go and pushes his flattened tongue as far out of his mouth as it’ll go. He’s got this glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips that tells you Thor knows what he’s doing, he knows he’s pushing every button he can think to push.
You’ve danced this routine before, though this time Thor’s much more confident, willing to push further, push harder.
“You want to be a brat?” You ask, begging him to give you a smartass response. “Then take it like one.”
With swift movements of your right leg he’s pushed flat on the ground, his back hitting the hardwood with a low thud. “Flip over,” you tell him. With an unfortunate lack of protest, he does, toned stomach settling onto the floor barely warmed by his back.
You climb over him, leg on each side and core pressed into him as you gather his hair in your first. “You’re such a fucking tease,” you hiss through grit teeth. Thor makes a similar – but more pained noise – as you wretch his head back. “Such a little tease, begging me to put him in his fucking place. If you wanted me to fuck you like you deserve, you should fucking ask for it next time.”
Smack, the deep sound of your callous hand hitting the soft flesh of his ass almost makes him flinch more than the pain. Smacksmack, two more, quicker this time.
“I’ve met little fucking brats before, but never like you,” you pull the rest of his clothes off with minimal protest. “Gotta get you cock drunk before you’ll figure out how arrangement of ours works, don’t I?”
Thor, with his eyes scrunched shut and mouth lax, says nothing in return.
Your hand reaches under him, hips lifting to provide a small space between him and the floor. He’s already hard, aching, leaking, and he moans brokenly when you wrap your hand around him.
It’s rough, hurts more than it pleasures, but it still feels so, so good all the same. Thor almost wants to say so, too, but can’t make himself push the words from his throat.
“So easy to get you all fucked out isn’t it?” You whisper low in his ear. “So easy to break brats like you, makes me wanna make you cum and then leave you here for the rest of the night…”
The subsequent whine from Thor makes you laugh and push him harder into the floor. “But I won’t do that, can’t leave little things like you all alone, would be like leaving a baby bunny to a bunch of wolves.”
Thor doesn’t disagree, doesn’t try to build his demolished ego back up.
“Doesn’t that feel good, sweetheart?” you purr, hand keeping a slow, torturous pace. “Doesn’t it feel good to be good?”
All Thor can do is squeak and push his face into the floor, trying to hide the deep redness in his cheeks.
For once, you don’t punish him. You want to, want to stop and make him beg for forgiveness for his nonanswer. Maybe tie him up and fuck him with your fingers until he’s ready for your biggest strap, pounding into him.
Oh, Babyboy, you’re being so good taking this whole cock inside of you, aren’t you? So good for your owner. I bet nobody’s ever fucked you this good.
Maybe you’ll tie him up, edge him until he’s sobbing. Wait until he’s just about to cum and pull a vibrator or your hand away – make him whine and tease him as his whole body twitches.
Are you not enjoying yourself, baby? Because it looks to me like you are. Look at those glassy eyes, do I need to slap you to make you pay attention?
Thor screams as he cums all over your floor, whole body tense then completely lax within the span of seconds. His breathing is loud enough to be heard across nations, each exhale laced with a small moan.
He cries, deep and low, when you climb off of him, tries to arch his spine into the nothingness that once held you.
“Shh,” you tell him. “Mommy’ll be back in a second.”
Thor seems to calm with that, heart still racing but head and body slumped.
When you come back, you hold a bit of salmon - small grains of buttery jasmine rice and cranberry sauce stuck to the pink meat. You’ve grasped it with three fingers – thumb, middle, point – and have it nearly pressed to Thor’s plush, pink lips. It’s still warm, dinner having been served by the maids despite your absence from the dining room.
“C’mon baby,” you tell him. “You gotta eat sometime.”
Thor glares at you but knows you’re right – his already flat stomach howling in pain from lack of sustenance. Reluctantly, meekly, he pulls your fingers between his lips and swallows the soft food.
“Good boy,” you tell him. “See? Following directions isn’t that bad.”
Thor, for the first time in days, says nothing to the contrary.
