#Thor/Female Reader

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Mob Rules - Playtime with Thor

Playtime | Thor x Reader | 2.4k words

When you and Thor make an early exit while waiting for the boss' meeting to be over, he suggests a little playtime.

Warnings: 18+ AU with d/s themes, open relationship/free use. Semi-public sex (in car), use of butt plug, cockwarming, cum marking/creampie, anal, anal play. Little bit of Stucky x Reader at the end. Rated S for smut and F for filth.

Masterlist | Mob Rules | Poly Fics |Bucky | Steve

It was boring, worse than boring, mindless, endless, the food terrible, the conversation none existent. You gave a petulant sigh, tapping your manicured nails against the side of your crystal champagne flute.

You turned to Thor, one of two bodyguards assigned to you by Sir and Sarge, and rolled your eyes. He was your designated escort for this a formal tea party held by one of the gang’s latest business associates and while the garden was very beautiful and the sun lovely and warm, you were still endlessly bored. At least you got to spend more time with Thor though, you hadn’t had a chance to spend much time with him yet, one on one, you were mostly occupied with Sir and Sarge, although they were starting to allow the other gang members to approach you. 

In fact, you’d slept in Andy’s bed last night, a congratulatory prize for the lawyer after getting one of the dealers off a minor charge the day before. Andy was gentle, but firm, and you’d slept well afterwards, waking naturally when the sun came streaming through the windows. Naturally, but alone. There were normally so many people around that you hardly got a moment to yourself so, enjoying the luxury of privacy, you took a long hot shower before heading back to your own room. 

As soon as you opened the door you knew that Sir and Sarge had already been looking for you. Your bed was still neatly made, but your clothes for the day were placed on the end of the comforter. A light blue summer dress, strappy heels and matching lace underwear. They always knew just what to pick to make your day. 

Sir and Sarge had left instructions for you to dress and join them in the garage for 1pm, ready for this ridiculous attempt at a tea party, and had left a discrete black box alongside your dress. Inside was a small silicone butt plug, bright pink and very soft as well as a new tube of lube. Excitedly you’d dressed in all your new gifts and clenched your legs together, waiting for something to happen. You were sure from the bluetooth symbol on the side that they had some wicked plan to toy with you during the day. But nothing happened. 

Thor caught your eye again and you gave your secret signal to leave, standing politely and excusing yourself until you were out of ear shot. 

It felt good having Thor following you through the garden and into the courtyard of the mansion. He was huge, taller even that Sir and Sarge, with dark blonde hair that fell about his shoulders. Despite his muscular stature he had a friendly, welcoming, face that had instantly put you at ease when you were introduced. That, alongside his booming laugh, made you think he must have been some sort of jovial god in another life.

Thor walked half a pace behind you, head swivelling to make sure no one was following, or watching, who shouldn’t be. Half of his hair was in a messy bun, the rest looked stuck to his neck, the day was so hot you were desperate for the cool of the air conditioned car.

“God, that was shit, can we go home now?” You whined as soon as you were out of earshot, and Thor gave a low chuckle in answer. 

“Not yet, Bambi, the bosses still have some work to do.” He laughed but it was indulgent and kind. If you were bored he must have been falling asleep, stood watching without taking part. 

“But I’m bored,” you pouted up at him while he opened your car door, looking around once more before following you into the dim interior of the limousine. 

“Good job I brought something to entertain you then,” he smirked and, suddenly, you remembered the plug. 

His face lit with a smile at the same time your eyes widened, “that was from you, wasn’t it?” 

“Correct,” he pulled his phone from his pocket and flicked through the apps, grin widening and finger dragging up the screen. You squirmed, shocked, as the plug began to vibrate. The feeling shot through you instantly, your body going slack and giving in to the pleasure. 

“Does that feel good, Bambi?” His voice dropped lower, a rich, rolling tone, still a lilt of his Australian accent despite years spent in Brooklyn. 

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip and digging your fingernails into the leather of your seat. 

Thor watched the expression on your face change, the plug was exciting, it had your skin prickling with need, but it wasn’t quite enough. He kept his eyes trained on yours as you began grinding into the seat beneath you, slipping a hand up your thigh -

“No. Don’t touch yet. I’ve had to watch you for so long, I want you to wait too.”

He reached forward and tugged you into him, arranging your legs on either side of his hips until your wet panties were plastered against his growing cock. It felt wonderful between your legs, pressing into your wet folds and aching clit. 

Thor’s hands found your waist and allowed you to circle your hips just once, searching for friction, before he lifted you again. 

“Need some help, Bambi?” He smirked, confident and cocksure, “be a good girl and ask for it.” With one hand he kept a tight hold of your waist, with the other he freed his cock, the head bobbing through the black material of his trousers and leaving a trail of precum. 

Since moving in with Sir and Sarge you had yet to see a dick you didn’t love, even if you had only been allowed to sample a very select few. Every one was different, delicious, filling in their own right, and Thor’s was no exception. You were sure your fingertips wouldn’t touch if you tried to grasp him, the shaft thick and heavy, tapering slightly to the flushed head. You wanted it, now, inside you, stretching you, the perfect match to the insistent buzzing of the plug in your hole. 

“Please, Thor, please can I have your cock?” You wanted to look at him, you really did, you knew the sort of manners expected of you as the gang’s girlfriend, but you couldn’t tear your eyes from the swollen head of his cock. “Plug me up, fill me up, please?”

He let out a deep, rough, laugh and squeezed himself harder, milking a single drop of precum from the tip that slowly pearled and fell down the length of his shaft. You squirmed, letting out an embarrassing mewl. 

The plug stopped and you balled up your fists in frustration at the total lack of stimulation. Throwing caution to the wind, you lifted yourself and rubbed your pussy against him, dipping down enough to tease the head over your covered entrance, pushing against the fabric.

“So needy,” he commented, more to himself than to you, his own gaze was locked on your thighs, straddling his own, the sheen of your arousal making them slick, and his cock, disappearing between them and under your dress. You bunched it up further, holding the skirt with one hand and using the other to grip his shirt for leverage. 

“Please,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes. 

“Fine, you can sit on it.” He conceded, pushing your panties to one side, and allowing you  to slowly lower yourself, inch by inch, his cock getting wider, the stretch a burn that had you begging for more, bouncing slowly until you were fully seated. 

You dropped your dress in favour of dipping your fingers between your legs and feeling the way he’d stretched you, pushing up on your lower stomach. 

“The bosses were right, you do feel like heaven.” He observed, cupping your cheeks, “you sit tight -” he winked, “and I’ll turn your little toy back on for you.” 

Your mouth dropped into a surprised ‘o’ as the vibrations started again, stronger this time. With Thor’s cock buried so deep the plug pressed even harder against your walls, vibrating into your pussy as well. 

You circled your hips, attempting to press your clit to the cold belt of Thor’s trousers, but he held you firm, slightly away from his body. 

With a smirk he slid his hand under your dress and pressed his thumb to your clit, a deep insistent pressure. 

“Please.” You begged, eyes wide. 

“Let’s see how long it takes you to cum like that.” He leant back and spread his arms over the seats. 

“Thor, that’s not fair.” You moaned, the sensations too overwhelming to form any more of an argument, though you could tell that he was struggling too by the way his jaw was clenched. 

Despite his lack of movement you could feel the coil of your pleasure tightening, your walls clamping down on his and your hole squeezing the plug deeper. 

“Thor -” you whined, trying to move again but finding hands on your hips again, holding you down on his cock, impossibly deep and with no escape. You could barely twitch, your hands fisted so tightly in his shirt that it pulled against his muscled chest, the buttons straining. 

“Come on my cock, Bambi, let me feel that little pussy and then I’ll give you my cum.” His eyes met yours focussed and unrelenting, his body remaining still despite your efforts to writhe and rub yourself. 

Your orgasm hit you all the harder, the pulsing of your walls and clit were relentless with no respite from the feel of him, no push or pull just the feeling of being entirely full. Thor continued to smirk, brushing one long lock of blonde hair behind his ear before lifting you and spinning you around, pushing you over until your hands hit the floor. 

Embarrassment flooded you. From this position he had full access to you, he’d be able to see the way your hole still greedily gripped the neck of the plug, pulling it in and out as your orgasm faded. He’d be able to see the drip of your own arousal as it spilled from between your puffy lips, and he wouldn’t be able to see your face,  he didn’t need to after all, you were just a toy now, easily tossed about for him to use. 

“Such a good fucking girl, aren’t you Bambi, so sweet, bet neither of the bosses ever put you in this position did they?” He brought a large hand down to smack the globe of your ass, it stung, but you couldn’t help the flood of arousal either. “I’m gonna use your little holes and then I’m going to plug you back up so you don’t forget that you belong to all of us.” He growled, “you took too long to come to me, Bambi, I won’t want this long again.” 

You felt him move and then the solid weight of his cock against your lips, but he didn’t thrust in. Instead you could feel his hand as he moved it up and down his cock at pace, his knuckles catching on your clit and making you cry out. And then he was tugging at the plug, pulling it from your hole with an obscene pop and replacing it with the head of his cock. With as much energy as you could muster you tried to move backwards, but he didn’t give you anymore, just the wide head keeping you open. For a moment you wondered why he’d stopped, and then he gave a guttural groan and you felt the hot splash of cum painting you from the inside. 

He picked up the plug, the silicone rolling in the cleft of your ass cheeks briefly before he began to tease it in again -

“Well, well, well.” The door to the limousine opened, flooding the dark space with light. You couldn’t see, but you could tell by the polished shoes that slid past you that Sarge and Sir had finished their meeting. “What’s going on here?” Sarge asked. 

“Thor was -” 

“Not you, Bambi. We only want to hear you make those pretty little noises.” Sir snapped. 

“Just having some play time, boss, Bambi was bored, weren’t you sweetheart?” Thor laughed, plunging the plug in and you groaned again, grateful to have the toy back inside even if it wasn’t buzzing. 

Sarge hummed, “sounded fun, mind if we join in?” He didn’t wait for an answer before your world was spinning again, still on the floor you were now at least face up, looking up into Sarge’s twinkling eyes. 

“You good down there, Bambi?” He asked, smoothing his hands across your arse and down past your pussy. His thumbs rubbed your lips teasingly. 

“Yes, thank you, Sarge.” 

He laughed, “you like being full of cum, do you? We’d better give you some more then.” The tent in his trousers was unmistakable, how long had they been listening to you?

Sarge removed the plug, wiping it on the handkerchief from his top pocket before putting it in your mouth, “you keep that warm like the good slut you are, because it’s going right back in when we’re finished with you.” 

Sarge began to stroke himself slowly, rubbing and cupping your pussy with one hand until you were mewling again, your begging muffled around the toy. 

“Should gag her more often,” Sir said, sliding along the bench seat to be closer, his own cock rock hard and dribbling precum. 

Thor, though he’d tucked himself away, was pressing his heel to his crotch again, unsure if he’d be in trouble or not, and that thought alone had you desperate for one of them to fuck you. Being caught had been a lot more exhilarating than you’d thought it would be. 

“Move, gonna cum.” Sir pushed against Sarge and grabbed one of your thighs, pushing it back until you were almost bent in half, your hole gaping slightly without the plug to cling to. Like Thor, Sir pressed his head into your hole and came with a grunt, thrusting a little before pulling back pushing the cum in with his fingers. “Shit,” he panted. “Fill ‘er up, Buck.” 

Sir angled you back towards Sarge just in time for him to push inside, thrusting as he came until he was bent over you, fucking his way through his orgasm. You cried out as his hips rubbed against your clit perfectly, sparking new pleasure through your whole body. 

“Good girl,” he moaned, “good fucking girl.” His eyes were glazed when he pulled back, plucking the plug from your mouth and pushing it back in easily. “Fuck, that was a good idea Thor. Wonder how many she could take before it starts coming out again.” 

Sir and Thor laughed while you gazed up at them. You weren’t sure you could manage everyone without getting to cum at least one more time, but you would certainly try!

[12welveinched]

Me after clicking a p link thinking it was a fic rec.

Jumpscare.

[angelltheninth]

You know how guys have the happy trail? What do you think the MCU men's is like?

Gonna tell you something Anon, I love it when guys have that. It's cute and attractive.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, James “Logan" Howlett, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, body worship, teasing, muscles, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Probably one of the most attractive things on guys. At least to me. Other than strong hands.

Steve keeps himself very neat, not really because of you, not at first, it's just a habit that he still has from his army days. That being said he didn't miss the way you look at him when he does it. He knows you're looking so he takes his time.

Bucky is a bit more clumsy with it since losing his arm. His new one is good but it's cold on his skin when he needs to groom himself and be nice. But... maybe you can give him a hand when he needs it.

Clint doesn't bother with it much because he doesn't have much of a visible happy trail. It is there when you really look or run your hand down his abs. That being said he doesn't quite see why you like it so much, it's just body hair.

Thor never quite cared to keep himself overly well groomed or to cut down on any body hair. When he tried his hair grew back rougher, which you can feel as you touch his stomach. To him it was never something he had to think about, besides you like it.

Loki brags about how good he looks. Every part of him, even the happy trail which he always keeps well maintained. As he gets ready for bed he might take it slower, to give you time to look.

Logan has always been covered in a lot of rough, bushy hair and his happy trail is no different. For him it's like a path that you can follow as you kiss his body. In fact he has referred to it as that numerous time, making you blush at the implications.

Remy often gets asked if his hair is red everywhere, and yes it is. He chuckles when he tells you that you should check for yourself. Despite how he may seem he does keep himself well trimmed, from his belly all the way down.

Kurt does have a bit more hair there and it's quite soft and fluffy. It's one of the rare parts on his body that's not as cold as the rest of him. But it is quite dark, almost black in contrast with his blue skin.

Tony wants you to look at him as he gets changed. He wears his pants a bit lower when he knows he can work from home. Seeing you ready to kiss every inch of him won't make work easier.

Peter has a happy trail but it's a bit sparse. He doesn't have much body hair on his belly and is a bit ticklish when you touch him there. It's one of his weaknesses so he always blushes when you do it.

[societyfolklore]

Until I’m Full, You Stay

Title: Until I’m Full, You Stay

Pairing: Thor x Asgardian!Female Reader

Summary: The golden halls of Asgard echo with drunken songs and overflowing goblets. Their future king reclines at the head of the feasting table- sated with victory, indulgent with wine… and utterly buried inside you.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Cockwarming, Public sex, risk of discovery, power imbalance, Size kink, mention of overstimulation, Thor being a tease, Loki being very aware, Dirty talk, pet names, light humiliation.

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for April Kinky Bingo Square: B3- Cockwarming Card Number: KB003 The golden halls of Asgard roared with celebration.

Gleaming goblets clinked, the scent of roasted meats and sweet wines thick in the air. Music swelled beneath the vaulted ceiling, echoing with the drunken songs of warriors. Odin and Frigga, ever dignified, had long since retired, leaving their sons to reign over the revelry- Thor's clothes rumpled from combat and wine, his tunic askew, and a smirk that promised indulgence.

Thor lounged at the head of the long feasting table, legs spread wide, his tunic open just enough to expose the swell of his chest. His palm rested low on your back, guiding you with gentle insistence. The revelers barely noticed- their future king, their hero, just victorious in battle, seated like any other warrior at the head of the table. No one questioned it when you settled into his lap, cloaked in the haze of wine and celebration.

But only you felt it- his cock, thick and half-hard beneath the ceremonial robes, pressing up against you.

He nudged you forward, guiding you subtly with one hand at your lower back until you sat perched on his knees. Your body shielded his movements. You barely registered the soft shift in fabric until you felt him- hard and proud- being pulled free beneath the table.

Then, he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice like honey poured over hot coals.

"Sit on it, little one. You’ll stay there until I’m finished eating."

"Yes, my lord," you whispered, barely audible, your breath trembling as you obeyed.

Thor's hands gripped your hips, lifting you with effortless strength until the blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Your breath stuttered as he held you there, poised- teasing- before easing you down, slow and merciless.

The stretch was immediate. Obscene.

He split you open inch by inch, your slick walls forced to accommodate his sheer size. Your gown draped elegantly around you, concealing nothing of the way your thighs shook, how your belly tensed. A soft, broken sound caught in your throat as the head pushed past your entrance, and then more- thicker, hotter- until you were nearly seated.

Each breath came shorter, sharper, as your body clenched around him, fluttering helplessly.

By the time he bottomed out, buried to the hilt, your pulse was roaring in your ears. You were so full it felt like he had stolen the air from your lungs.

And still, he held you there- deep and unyielding.

You couldn’t take a full breath. Not without clenching.

Not without whining.

Thor feigned indifference, plucking a fig with lazy precision in one hand, then drawing the stem across your collarbone before setting it down to reach for a goblet of wine. The other hand remained at your waist, anchoring you with quiet authority, his touch steady and grounding. He leaned in slightly, brushing your hair away from your neck, hooking it behind your ear with a tenderness that made your stomach twist. As your back settled against his chest, his lips grazed the shell of your ear again.

"You’re squeezing me like you want everyone to know," he murmured, low and filthy.

"My ah-apologies... I c-can’t help it," you breathed, your voice barely audible, ragged from restraint.

Thor’s lips brushed your temple, deceptively tender as his words curved darker.

"I think it might serve you better to stay silent, my treasure," he said low enough only you could hear, the possessiveness in his tone wrapping around you like iron. "Your voice gives you away- and I quite like keeping you to myself."  He took a long drink, before he plucked another honeyed fig from the silver tray beside him, and smiled.

"Open," he murmured.

You parted your lips, cheeks flushed. He pressed the fruit in, slow, and then offered his fingers- slick and glistening. You sucked them clean, obedient and dazed, your eyes fluttering shut as he rumbled his approval. 

The minutes passed in a blur of overstimulation. Every twitch of his thigh beneath you sent aftershocks of pleasure up your spine. He filled you so completely it felt like he was pressed into your very stomach, stretching you in ways that defied reason. The heaviness of him pulsed inside you, a constant presence you could neither ignore nor endure.

Occasionally, Thor rocked his hips ever so slightly- just enough to feel the ripple it caused through your body. Just enough to make your hand fly to his forearm and squeeze. It earned you a quiet chuckle, his mouth full of roasted meat as though nothing were amiss.

When the musicians struck up a rowdy chorus, he tapped his heel in time beneath the table. The subtle bounce of his leg jostled you, made you sink down that impossible inch deeper with every beat. Each bounce, each movement, sent you careening toward the edge again. It was all so much.

Every shift made you swear it was harder not to whine or moan. 

The court roared with laughter and slurred songs, but you could barely hear it over the thunder of your heartbeat. You sat perfectly still, trembling, your fingers curled into the folds of his robe.

Then-

Boots scuffed against the stone floor as someone returned to the head table. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Loki, tousled and far too smug. His green and gold tunic was half-laced, his hair disheveled in the way it only got when he'd had company.

He sauntered to his seat with lazy grace, goblet already in hand, and collapsed into his chair with a satisfied sigh.

"I do hope the food hasn't gone cold," he drawled, eyes glittering as he glanced up- right at you.

Thor didn’t flinch.

He leaned back in his seat,  sated by war, wine, and the warm, trembling cunt squeezing around him. You weren’t fast enough this time- your moan slipped out, soft and breathless, before you could catch it. 

"Quiet now," Thor's voice came through a playful warning. "Or I’ll take you properly, right here at the table."

Loki tilted his head, swirling his drink thoughtfully before smirking over the rim of his goblet, his eyes taking in your current state. 

"Careful, brother. Keep this game up and you'll break your little darling right here in front of us all," he drawled though only loud enough to reach Thor's ears- and yours.

You swallowed hard, choking down the soft gasp that threatened to rise. Your teeth sank into your lip, biting the tender flesh hard enough to bruise. Thor let out a low, amused bark of laughter, his chest rumbling against your back.

"But she warms me so sweetly, brother," he replied, his tone indulgent. "Would you fault a king for keeping his throne just so?"

Loki gave a lazy shrug, his gaze never leaving your flushed face. "Not at all. Only wondering how long she can keep from crying out. Her eyes are already starting to roll back," he said with a smirk that bordered on wicked delight. "One more little nudge and I daresay she'll melt in your lap."

You squeezed your eyes shut, trembling, humiliation blooming beneath the heat of it all. Every inch of you ached, stretched taut and throbbing, your own body a betrayer to your dignity. You gave a quiet shudder, wriggling subtly on his lap in a futile attempt to ease the ache your lover was causing in your cunt- only to make things worse. The motion sent him grinding deeper, pressing against that unbearable sweet spot, and your breath hitched hard.

"Still so needy? I thought I told you to behave tonight," he murmured against your ear, the heat of his breath fanning across your cheek. His voice had dropped lower now, dark and smooth, curling down your spine like velvet-wrapped steel. The weight of it made your thighs tense, your heart pound, and your breath stutter in your throat. Still, you whimpered- just a little- in answer, shame and pleasure warring as your fingers squeezed his forearm.

He hummed around a mouthful of food, not even pausing as his grip anchored you.

Your head dropped forward, forehead nearly touching the table, your body spasming quietly around him.

"Now, now."  Thor pulled you back up against his chest. "Told you, keep fluttering like that and I’ll make a show of you, sweetling."

His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your gown. Calloused fingers trailed slowly between your thighs, and then- his thumb found your pulsing clit.

The blonde rubbed slow, lazy circles, as if he had all the time in the world. As if no one was watching. As if you weren’t already breaking apart from just the stretch of him alone. Your thighs trembled, your breath hitching in your throat as Thor  continued to converse with Loki like you weren’t there at all.

"You spoil her," Loki commented dryly, raising his brows. "A whole feast laid before you and still you gorge yourself on her."

"She is my favorite dish," Thor said with a grin, taking another bite of meat.

Then-

He shifted beneath you, his arm coiling tightly around your waist as he rocked his hips up once, slow and deliberate. His cock dragged along that devastatingly sensitive spot high inside you, the one that made your toes curl and stars burst behind your eyelids. The blunt head of him kissed it directly, and the jolt of pleasure it sent through your body.

That was all it took.

You came- silently, pathetically, squirming against his massive frame as he kept you still. Your inner muscles fluttered helplessly, spasming around his cock, your body no longer able to obey your will. Your fingers dug into the meat of his forearm where it wrapped around your waist, the only anchor you had in the torrent crashing through you. One hand slipped to grip the edge of the chair, nails biting into the carved wood as you trembled through the waves of release. Tears prickled in your lashes from the overwhelming sensation, from the ache that never faded.

Your head dropped back to his shoulder, your cheek turning to bury itself in the crook of his neck, where his skin was warm and smelled faintly of spice and smoke. You struggled to catch your breath, your entire body still trembling.

"Couldn’t wait, could you?"

He simply shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement as his fingers lifted to stroke the column of your neck. The gesture was deceptively tender, grounding, as though he hadn’t just undone you in full view of a feasting hall. Then he took another sip of wine, resuming his meal like nothing had happened.

Like he wasn't still buried deep inside you, thick and pulsing, as if he hadn't just pulled you apart without ever thrusting.

Loki huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he raised his goblet.

"And they call me the cruel one," Loki muttered, the curl of his lips turning dark as he took a long sip of wine. His gaze drifted to the visible tremble still rippling through your limbs. 

Thor gave your thigh a possessive squeeze before lifting his goblet again. You sat up, just enough to accept the offering as he guided it to your lips. You drank obediently.

"Drink, sweetling," he murmured, his tone like warm smoke. "Not cruel to you, am I?"

You shook your head, unable to form words, your body still fluttering helplessly around him. You were a mess- wrecked and shaking- but no more than many others scattered across the feast. Still, none of them knew what it meant to be Thor’s. Not like this.

"Said you'd break her, didn’t I?" Loki added with a dry smile, swirling his cup lazily before taking another sip.

Thor hummed in amusement, lips brushing your temple as he smoothed your hair back once more. "You worry for nothing, brother. She’ll last many an hour." That idea alone made your body seize up again, your muscles fluttering helplessly around him. Hours? The word echoed in your skull like a drumbeat- part thrill, part dread. You weren’t sure if you could endure minutes more, let alone hours. And yet, some wicked part of you clenched tighter at the thought, your body aching for what it couldn’t handle. Your eyes fluttered closed, the thought both terrifying and electrifying.

Thor’s hand returned to your hip, firm and steady. He gave one last, deliberate roll of his hips, a subtle warning of what was to come- later, when the hall quieted and no eyes lingered. You bit your lip, barely swallowing the sound that rose in your throat.

He smiled, pleased.

“Now remember- be still,” he murmured, voice thick with promise. “The night’s only just begun.”

[vbecker10]

No Stabbing!

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You ask Loki if he still stabs people when he's bored but the prince of Asgard is more curious about why you want to know.

Warnings: idk... vague mention of a terrible date and overly protective Loki (who doesn't love that? Lol)

A/N: Came up with this idea pretty randomly so hopefully it's good lol enjoy! 💚

"Loki, do you still stab people when you're bored?" you ask as you walk into the common room, interrupting a game of chess the two brothers are playing.

The younger prince stares up at you in confused silence, his attention shifting to his brother when Thor clears his throat.

"I'm sorry Y/N," Thor says politely. "Fury made it abundantly clear to my brother that stabbing people who irritate him is not something that will be tolerated while he is on probation."

"Oh... right," you mumble and look down at your shoes. "We'll never mind then," you turn to leave.

"Why do you ask?" Loki finally speaks when you've taken a few steps away from them.

"No reason," you respond quickly turning to face him.

"Y/N," Loki says in a slightly stern tone.

"My date tonight was awful. He was so handsy," you explain, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Handsy?" Thor repeats the unfamiliar term with a raised eyebrow. Loki looks at you and you can tell he's just as confused as his older brother.

You sigh and make a grabbing motion with both hands towards the princes.

"No stabbing!" Thor shouts at his younger brother as he gets up, knocking over the few remaining chess pieces.

Loki gets up quickly, his favorite dagger appearing in his hand with a green flourish. "You were with the new tech from Stark's team," the God of Mischief states, no hint of a question in his voice. You nod as he walks angrily past you into the hallway.

"I am simply going to talk to him," Loki insists, his pace not slowing.

"With your dagger," Thor rolls his eyes when he catches up.

Loki smirks, "Yes."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[sserpente]

A Haunted Read (Kinktober #1)

You are certain the library you work in his haunted. However, you are not certain ghosts can cast green magic and tease you like that...

A/N: Request by @blackwidownat2814. This request is so old, I’ll go stand in a corner and be ashamed of myself. *clears throat* On another note… Happy Kinktober! It’s my favourite time of the year and I’ve got a bunch of spooky and/or kinky Imagines ready to go this year! Starting off strong with Loki, have fun reading! ;)

Words: 2019 Warnings:  ghost!Loki (sort of), smut

You were certain the library was haunted. You were not imagining things. You could hear it. Every single night. A mischievous chuckle, a dark giggle, right after whatever spirit had made itself comfortable in your workplace wreaked some havoc when you were trying to get through your shift.

The concept of a library that was open twenty-four hours a day wasn’t so unusual but it could have done with some more marketing. You were alone most of the time, sorting through books, listening to music, and handling returns left over by the day shift.

Working at night was refreshing. Regardless of the ghost haunting you, you already had the story of a lifetime to tell to your future children (or well, pets). Your boss didn’t want to believe you when you claimed that Thor, the Thor, and his brother Loki had visited the library two weeks ago, searching for a rare tome for a super-secret Asgardian mission.

A selfie with Thor (and Loki rolling his eyes in the background) was now your new profile picture on all of the social media platforms you were on.

Thor was just as righteous and warm as the media portrayed him. Loki was…something else. Cautious, quiet, snarky and to be frank, condescending. Not to mention he’d been the one to show up first, catching you reading a very steamy romance novel. Damn those gods and their quiet footsteps.

You bit your lower lip and rolled a trolley filled with books to your desk. At the end of the day, strangely enough, Loki had fascinated you even more than Thor had. After everything that happened in New York all those years ago, vigilance around his person was a given. But there was more to him than that, you were certain of that. After all, Thor kept him around for a reason, right?

In all honesty, he reminded you a little of those brooding and morally grey men in the books you liked to read. Cold on the outside but a good heart hidden beneath…right? His blue gaze had lingered on you just a little too long. It was captivating, mesmerising, stunning, breath-taking…it was hard to believe it was Thor who captured all the women’s hearts. Loki was not only handsome but also mysterious. He was your perfect book boyfriend and you had not just once caught yourself imagining him as the male protagonist in your latest erotic adventure.

A chuckle. You rolled your eyes. “Who is there? Show yourself!”

Silence. Of course. You hadn’t expected anything else. Except—

You flinched when the neatly stacked books on your desk scattered to the carpeted floor. You groaned. “Seriously? I just sorted through these!”

Perhaps you should have been worried about a poltergeist keeping you company at this time of day, alone and surrounded only by rows and rows of books, especially this close to Halloween. But then again, you had nothing to fear from the dead. The living were much scarier than anything a poltergeist could come up with.

Another chuckle.

“Really funny… You know if you’ve got something to say, say it. Maybe I can help you move on to the afterlife or something like that…” You bent over to pick up the books when you spotted a green hue flickering across the edges of some of the books, almost as if whatever had moved them still lingered on the covers.

Great. Ghost goo. Time to call the Ghostbusters.

Hopefully, the rest of your shift was going to be peaceful. You sighed, stacking the books yet again. They had to be re-labelled and some of them needed a new protective cover. If you got this done now…and the library remained this empty…you’d have enough time to finish that sexy Halloween novel you’d been reading.

After all, that was the best part of your job. It was heaven to get paid for reading. So you got to work, listening to some music to drown out the repeated chuckles. At least nothing else went flying for now. Although you couldn’t quite shake the constant shivers running up and down your spine. It was as if your body sensed another presence.

You didn’t hate it—but you didn’t like it, either.

Three long hours later, as you rolled your neck to ease some of the tension, you were done. The trolley was empty, the returns list was updated, all the books were re-labelled…and you finally had time for the steamy romance novel waiting for you on the desk.

After making some tea in the staff room, you made yourself comfortable in the surprisingly cosy desk chair and got lost in your story.

Your protagonist was about to be seduced by a handsome demon looking to devour her soul—of course, they’d eventually fall in love in the process. She was dreaming, half-awake, and then…experiencing sleep paralysis. The girl had gone to bed naked, making it even easier for the demon to tease her into oblivion.

Damn, this was hot. You could feel yourself growing wet, arousal rippling through you.

You flinched when something tugged at your hair. You flipped around. There was no one there.

The demon in the book pulled back the covers, revealing the girl’s glistening pussy to its greedy gaze.

Something tugged at your clothes. “What the…” Flailing, your eyes scanned your surroundings. Nothing. This was the first time this ghost was touching you. This…shit. “Stop it! Let go of me!”

Perhaps if you ignored it…you bit your lower lip, lowered your gaze, and kept on reading in an attempt to block the spirit out. No one liked to be ignored, right? Maybe it just wanted attention like a toddler. Or a pet.

The demon stuck out his long tongue and licked over the girl’s cunt, lapping at her juices.

It was just then you noticed that green hue of energy again, disappearing…underneath your skirt. Your eyes widened.

“W-Wait, no, what…what is…” Trying to press your legs together did nothing. The energy remained, forcing itself…you gasped.

“What are you doing? What’s happening, what are you…oh.” It did not wait for you to finish. The energy pressed up directly against your clit. A moan escaped your lips. No…no, this wasn’t supposed to feel good, what was it doing?

I-ignore it…just ignore it…just…ignore it…

The girl in the book whimpered, her legs falling open wider against her will. And then…so did yours. Fuck… You should be scared. Terrified. Instead…instead all you could sense was excitement.

You stopped reading, desperate to catch a glimpse of that green hue again…only for it to disappear. Damn it. Disappointment should be the last thing you’re feeling. And then, as soon as you brought your gaze back to the pages of your book, the pressure returned.

Oh. Oh my. Did…did the spirit want you to keep reading? And only then would it…

No. Oh no. You should not be playing this game. This was bad. Wrong. Maybe it wasn’t even a spirit after all. What if it was an incubus? What if it’d feast on your pleasure and steal your energy, your soul even in the worst-case scenario?

You bit your lower lip when the pressure intensified, sneaking its way past your drenched lips and…inside you as if to distract you from your worrying thoughts. Fuck…you’d never felt so…so full. How was this even possible?

Finally, the girl in the book opened her eyes only to find the handsome demon hovering directly above her the very moment he thrust up into her, claiming every single inch of her. And with every line you read…the invisible force working your own arousal kept stroking and teasing your pussy as if it’d done so a million times before. You couldn’t help it. You pictured Loki to be the demon seducing this girl.

Fuck it. Whatever this experience was, now was not the time for fear. You could be scared later and be horny now.

Growing hotter with every minute, it got harder and harder to focus on the text. You climbed the ladder fast, the mysterious energy pleasuring you better than any of your toys could. If it kept going, you would…you would…oh…

“I’m coming!” you yelled out, grateful that you were alone—save for the naughty ghost having its fun with you. You clenched around the energy force as you hit your climax, bliss unlike any other rippling through you. You dropped your book, your nails digging into the armrests, your head thrown back.

Your little poltergeist took its time. It did not let up until you’d come down from your high, your senses and dreadful realisation at what you had just let a ghostly appearance do to you washing away the last waves of pleasure.

And yet…you had never come this hard. If anything…this had been the most mind-bending orgasm of your life. You wanted to experience that again. You wanted to experience it again.

But, as the force slowly retreated and the green hue evaporated into nothingness, you figured it would be stupid to beg it to come back and give you more.

One thing was for certain, however. You could not, under any circumstances, let anyone ever know what had just happened to you.

The next evening remained uneventful. At first. No ghosts, no flying objects, no invisible hands forcing you to come for them. You were about to continue reading that faithful book from last night when all of a sudden, the main doors of the library opened and two now all too familiar figures walked inside.

Thor and Loki.

“Hey, you two! Any progress on your ancient Asgardian tome?”

You were quite flattered when Thor remembered your name and they both greeted you. Thor with a friendly “Hello”, and Loki with a curt nod. “No luck so far. But we have a new lead. Would you mind if we took another little browse?”

“Not at all, take your time. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Thor smiled and nodded before he walked off, straight toward the history and mythology section. Loki, on the other hand…lingered a little longer in place than he probably should have. God, even how he was standing there, lurking, observing you with those scrutinising blue eyes…he was grace personified.

“C-Can…can I help you?” you asked.

Loki smirked. “I was hoping you might be able to help me find some…lighter literature. To pass the time so to speak.”

“Uh…sure. W-what…” Oh, get it together! “What kind of literature were you thinking about?”

“I have an affinity for romance. Perhaps something along the lines of…what you read last night.”

Your face fell when he flicked his wrist and steamy erotica resting on your desk chair practically flew into his hands—enveloped in green mist.

Oh. My. God.

You didn’t get to respond. Not that you knew what to say anyway. Thor came rushing back to the front desk with an odd-looking compass in one hand and another really old book on settlements in Norway in the other.

“Loki! Loki, I think I found what we’re looking for. That thing Strange gave us is spinning like crazy, look!”

Loki didn’t look. His eyes were locked with yours still, his smirk never letting up. Fuck. Me.

“Are you quite alright, dear? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he mused.

You gnashed your teeth, resisting the urge to growl.

Thor gave you a puzzled look. Shit.

“N-no. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

“Right…” Thor began, “…we’d like to borrow this one.”

“S-sure…” Snapping yourself out of it, you took the book from Thor’s hands and scanned it before handing it back to him.

“Thank you! That will be all. Come on, Loki, stop terrifying the poor girl.” Thor gave you one last friendly smile before he made his way towards the exit.

“It was lovely to see you again, pet. I can’t wait to see what book you are going to read next,” Loki said before he turned on his heel and followed his brother, leaving you behind dumbfounded.

So he had intentions to return. Fuck…you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want him to.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

PART ONE

Dark circles rest beneath your glazed (E/C) eyes that stare blankly ahead in an unfocused daze. Your hair is greasy and unbrushed, having not been touched in quite some time. Your hands are trapped against your sides as the black leather straight jacket you're forced to wear prevents them from moving- To prevent them from tearing the muzzle from your face.

Due to your rather strong and problematic ability, your captors keep a rather tight muzzle on you at all times. It's controlled by a small handheld device that can unlock it from a distance which allows them to give you access to your ability without putting themselves in harms way. Usually they stick you in a secure room with whoever it is they need you to use your ability on before allowing your muzzle to fall off so you can do as instructed. Once the task is complete, they wait until you place the muzzle back on before retrieving you and returning you to your small room.

The muzzle is high tech not only due to the fact it can be removed remotely, but also because it can cause you immense amounts of pain should it be attempted to be removed in any other way. You learned the hard way that trying to pry it off with your hands will lead to strong volts of electricity coursing through your face, the pain damn near killing you. Since then you've been forced to wear the black straight jacket to keep you from trying again. Not that you would.

You're an extremely useful asset to them- probably the strongest that they have. While they don't particularly care about your comfort or most basic needs, they do care about keeping you alive for as long as possible. Anything that could be a risk to your life is always kept far from you almost as if they think you'd be willing to take your own pathetic life. You wouldn't, but they don't really believe that.

It's why you're almost always strapped and muzzled like a wild beast. The only times your arms and mouth are free is when they need you to do your job or when you're eating. They always send in an agent to undo the straps of your jacket to allow you minimal use of your hands- so you can eat and put your muzzle back on on your own. Once the muzzle is secure on your face once again, the same agent will come back to restrain you once again. You've spent most of your life with your arms folded up in the restricting jacket that it almost feels unnatural to move them in any other way.

You've no idea how long it's been like this, either. Since your capture, you haven't seen the outside world except for handful of times- though that was long ago. Since then not even a passing glance through a window. You've been confined to the same small section of the base only moving between two rooms that are separated by a long hallway. There's dozens of other doors along the walls of the hallway yet you've never once been through any of them. You've also never seen them be opened. It makes you wonder if there's even actually anything in those random rooms.

You're pulled back to reality when you hear voices outside of your room. Their voices are quiet and somewhat muffled but if you focus hard enough you can almost make out what it is that they are saying over the sounds of the alarm. You don't recognize the voices, but then again there's hundreds of agents in this horrendous group and you know that you haven't met more than a few.

"Are you stupid?!" One of the voices sounds almost exasperated as they hiss the words at whoever it is they're talking to.

"She can help!" The other person argues, his voice slightly louder than the others.

"Help who? Because as far as I'm concerned she's more likely to help them." You can tell that he's trying his best to convince the other person without raising his voice. He's likely trying to avoid detection since you know he probably isn't supposed to be in your section. "We wouldn't stand a chance if we released her and she decided to help them."

"We don't stand a chance regardless!" He sounds almost desperate as he practically pleads with the other man. "She's our only chance! We're screwed without her!"

There's a slight noise you can't identify before the other man responds. "Do you honestly think that the asset will help us fight after everything that has been done to her?"

"Maybe we should let her free regardless. I mean, she's a human being and yet she's treated like a damn dog. I think we should let her go with them." His voice is soft as he speaks to the point where you can barely make out what he's saying.

"We'd be killed for that. Are you really willing to throw your life away for some girl you've never even met?"

The question is met with silence, leaving you unaware of what's happening outside of your door. All you know is that apparently the base is under attack and that there's a chance that whoever it is will save you. That is unless you decide to fight against them should you be released from your restraints. If you are released, you're almost certain that you'll remain neutral, not helping either side as you hate using your powers.

The next thing you hear is a commotion outside of your room which sounds a lot like people fighting. You're unsure if the two men from before are still out there or not but if they are then they will likely lose the fight against whoever it is they're facing. If they were scared enough to consider releasing you then their opponents must be quite strong.

The fight outside your room lasts for a few minutes, the grunts and yells being the only sounds until everything suddenly goes silent. The sudden silence is disrupted by doors opening and closing as whoever remains searches through the rooms. You're unsure what they're searching for but whatever it is they're looking for must not be in any of them as they quickly move to the next room.

They grow closer and closer to your room, the sounds of the doors growing louder until they stop right outside of your room. You stare at the large metal door blocking you from whoever it is outside of your room, waiting patiently to see if they're going to open it or not. For some reason they seem to be taking longer to open it compared to all of the other doors. Is there a difference between yours and those ones? Perhaps. You've never noticed it if there is.

You can't help but to flinch slightly as the mechanical lock whirs before clicking loudly. You instinctually hold your breath, fearing that it may be one of your caretakers coming to collect you. The handle slowly turns as if taunting you before the door finally swings open allowing you to fully hear the blaring alarms.

A woman you've never seen before steps into the room, her eyes instantly landing on your figure as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at her with dull eyes, sending a shiver down her spine- something that she doesn't normally experience no matter what she's facing. Her brows furrow slightly as she examines you, her mind likely racing.

Her eyes trail from your messy hair to your muzzle, then down to your leather straight jacket and torn baggy pants before landing on your dirty bare feet. Her gaze then flickers quickly around your room, taking in the bare minimum that is inside the concrete cell. All there is in your room is your thin lumpy mattress which sits on a wire frame and a dirty metal toilet in the corner with a sink on the back of it.

"I've found something you might want to see." Her voice is low as she speaks, likely talking into her comms that connect her to the rest of her group. You can't hear whatever the person on the other side says but she nods before informing them of her location.

After that she takes a step further into the room, seeming slightly hesitant to get any closer to you. Despite the fact that you obviously would be unable to effectively fight her, she's still wary since she has no idea what you're capable of. It's quite obvious that you must be at least somewhat powerful if they've gone as far as to both muzzle and restrain you.

"Are you alright?" She questions as she keeps her gaze locked on you. It's a question you haven't heard in a long time- nobody here cares how you're doing. What they care about it whether or not you can do your job. Slowly, you nod, letting her know that you are fine and willing to interact.

She doesn't say anything else to you as somebody else comes down the hall, calling what you assume is her name. She shouts back, letting them know which room she's in. A few seconds later a man comes into the room, his eyes on Natasha before flickering over to you. He seems surprised, his brows raising slightly.

"We weren't informed of there being anyone other than agents and scientists here." The man murmurs as he steps forward to stand next to Natasha. "Any idea who she is?"

Natasha shakes her head as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I haven't found the servers yet to download their files. What should we do, Cap?"

"We take her with us for now. I doubt she'll be able to do anything while wearing all of that." He gestures at you as he looks over your restrictive outfit.

Natasha nods in agreement before moving forward. You try your best to keep from flinching as she gets closer, your eyes warily watching her. She watches your reaction for anything negative as she reaches forward before her small hand wraps around your bicep. You allow her to pull you to your feet, her grip tight to keep you from running. She leads you from the room as the both of you follow after the rather large male as he makes his way down the hall to check the remaining rooms.

You personally have no idea where the server room is so you can't really help them- not like you'd be able to vocally inform them anyways. You're all just blindly wandering from room to room, you watching them both skillfully take out any agents in their way before moving on. Finally, after what felt like hours of walking around, you all stumble into the server room where towers and computers fill the room with a blue glow.

"Let's see what secrets we can find today, shall we?" Natasha smirks as she steps away from your side to plug a drive into one of the towers. You know that the first thing she'll look at will be your file. You can only hope that her and the man she called Cap are better people than the ones you've spent most of your life with.

Part Two

[flaresemily]

If it's okay can I please ask for a yandere Poseidon with a female darling that he kidnaps but she is obedient and quiet because she knows escaping is not an option so she might as well accept it and she tries not to make him angry

If any of you saw this one it means that I'm starting to take request randomly from my inbox so congratulations to the one who requested this you got this first~ probably because I got an idea on what to write~

ℙ𝕠𝕤𝕖𝕚𝕕𝕠𝕟 𝕩 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

It all happened at 'love at first sight'. You were a human. Just a normal human. You like to study about the sea. You love the animals there.

You even have a fish tank at home for some of the aquatic animals. While you were on a vacation near a beach wearing your sundress and a cute hat. You were looking at the ocean like it's where you truly belongs.

"y/n! We're going to swim around you coming?" Ask one of your friend. "Wait for me! I go fetch my sunscreen!" Your friends nodded and quickly run to the water.

As for Poseidon, someone reported to him that they saw some humans trying to have fun at his 'house'. He was furious because he knows they will polluted his dear ocean/sea.

Thus, while you were applying your sunscreen you didn't notice the very big wave that came towards you and your friends. They were so focused on what they were doing until it was too late.

Screaming here and there from your friends as you try to save them but fail. Sadly the wave hits you and you hits your head on a rock. Typical love story.

As you were in and out of your own consciousness. A group of dolphins swim to you and circle you before guiding you to Poseidon.

As they arrive he was mad at the dolphins but not forever.

"why did you bring a mortal here?" He ask them.

They just swim to him happily and swim away. Thus, he took you in while smirking. No one knows what the dolphins said to him.

𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳

You wake up with a headache. Then realize that your head was bandaged and you were wearing some kind of nightgown.

Then when you try to sit a hand quickly pull you back down. You were shocked. You slowly turn around and behold you saw the most beautiful man who has blonde hair with a beautiful face. You were blushing.

Then, the man open his eye and damn!! You are melting! That deep blue eyes. 'I think I just fall in love' you thought.

He caresses your cheeks and smiles yes smiles. 'goddamn it!! It just make me fall harder!!' your heart is beating fast.

"who are you?" You ask him after collecting some courage. "Your husband" he replied.

"eh--"

As quickly as you said that. As quickly as you guys got married. And when you realize you. It's your first night together with him as newlyweds. You are still in dazed. (Who wouldn't)

"a-ah I never got your name?" He carries you towards the bathroom. "Poseidon that's my name" you nodded as you let him carry you to the bathroom. (What you guys did in there is up to u 🤨 sus moment)

𝘈 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳

You notice how some of the male workers has gone missing. Yes you're not stupid to realize that it was Poseidon doing. How you know?

Simple you were talking to the butler the other days and then just now a maid reported to you that the butler had resigned. Coincidence?

Here's another situation. You were talking to the chef about your craving as you were talking and laughing Poseidon walked past both of you and the chef trembled. He quickly excused himself. That's not all the next day you heard the chef got eaten by a shark!! How cruel is that!! Coincidence? I THINK NO!

So thus, you test this theory. You ask a certain 'someone' to pretend as a male worker and talk to you happily. As Poseidon notices your eyes widen. You were getting touchy with that workers.

Then, the butler lean closer to you from his point of view it looks like he's kissing you.

His face darkens and he quickly throws his trident towards the male. What shocked him the most is that the male manages to capture the trident even before it can hit him. "Now now lord Poseidon~" the male chuckle. He recognized that voice.

"Hermes...what are you doing here.." he walk towards him. "Aunty here was wondering about the Olympus"

"absolutely no! She won't go there I forbid her from going!" Hermes just shook his head.

"uncle...if you keep aunty in the dark it only worsen her mental health. I'm speaking from experience." Hermes reply (hint ii 🫣)

"you know nothi--"

"I still regret it uncle... it's because of me she's crazy. All because of obsession." He add and walk away disappearing into the shadows. You just tilt your head. "Poseidon?"

You call to him softly catching his attention.

He lead you away while still glaring at nothing.

You pout and jump to hug his neck. He quickly catches you. "What is it" he ask.

"sorry I promise I won't do it again..." You hug him. "....why don't you run away from me" the sudden question freeze you.

"well you see no matter where I run you always find me right? So what's the point" he was shock.

"is that why you never intended to run away?" You nodded at his answer.

He softly kisses you and smiles genuinely. "Thank you for accepting me....y/n" you smile and hug him again happily.

"you remember my name! Yay"

He just shook his head and carry you to the dining room.

The End

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[mywritesaremylove]

Terms & Conditions

Loki Odinson x Stark's Daughter Smut Warning 18+

The sound of her stilettos was a warning.

A threat wrapped in red soles and patent leather. Every step down the hallway of Avengers Tower was deliberate, measured, and entirely for show. She wasn’t just Tony Stark’s daughter. She was a legal powerhouse in her own right. Stark Industries' corporate counsel. Avengers' in-house attorney. And the only woman in the building who made Loki Odinson feel utterly human when she pinned him in place with a look.

Her office door closed behind her with a soft hiss, locking automatically.

“I told you to wait until after five,” she said, not looking up.

“And I told you I don’t follow rules.” Loki’s voice was dark velvet, already behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. He was leaning against her desk like he owned it, that familiar arrogance in every line of his tall frame. Dark slacks, black button-down rolled to the elbows. The god of mischief made it all look criminally good.

“You’ll get us caught,” she murmured, setting her files down. “Pepper’s two offices down.”

Loki moved like smoke—silent, dangerous. Suddenly he was behind her, warm breath teasing her ear. “Then keep your voice down.”

His hand slid up her thigh, under the hem of her skirt, palm rough against her stockings. She closed her eyes for a beat, exhaled through her nose. He always started slow, teasing, until she was grinding against his palm like she had no pride.

“Loki,” she warned.

“Yes?” That amused tone. That deadly smirk in his voice. “Should I stop?”

She didn’t answer. Just tilted her hips into his hand.

His fingers brushed the thin lace of her thong. “Already wet,” he murmured, pleased.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, Starkling. You love it when I talk.”

He pushed the thin fabric aside and ran his fingers through her slick folds, slow and deliberate. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk. She bit her bottom lip hard.

“If you get slick on my briefs again,” she said through her teeth, “you’re buying me new ones.”

He chuckled. “Gladly. I’ll pick red. Like those perfect little heels you click across the floor like a war drum.”

He dipped one finger inside her, then two, curling them just right. Her legs buckled slightly, and he caught her with an arm around her waist, fingers never stopping. Her soft gasp made him grin against her neck.

“You’re always so professional,” he growled. “All polished and untouchable. But in here…”

He thrust deeper, twisting his wrist, and her knees gave out. He held her up easily, lips grazing her ear.

“In here, you’re mine.”

She turned her head, lips finding his in a kiss that was all teeth and heat and hunger. His free hand gripped her jaw, holding her still as he kissed her like a punishment. She bit his lip and he moaned low in his throat.

Then she shoved him back, turned, and climbed onto the desk.

“Pants off,” she commanded, crossing her legs slowly. “Now.”

Loki arched a brow, eyes devouring her from her tousled hair to the flash of red sole she deliberately showed. “So bossy,” he said, already unbuckling his belt. “Just how I like you.”

She slid her blazer off, revealing the silk camisole beneath. Her nipples were already hard through the fabric. No bra. He groaned when he realized it.

“Desperate today, are we?”

She didn’t answer. Just spread her legs.

He stepped between them, hard and ready, the head of his cock already leaking. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand to her mouth, licking her arousal off his fingers while holding his gaze.

Loki swore in Old Norse.

“Need to be quiet,” she whispered as he lined up. “You make me loud.”

He thrust in with one hard stroke.

Her head fell back, mouth open in a silent cry. Loki’s hands gripped her hips, bruising. She was tight and wet and perfect, and the desk creaked beneath them.

“I’ll make you scream anyway,” he muttered, starting to move.

He fucked her like he didn’t care who was outside that door. Like he owned her office, her body, her moans. She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, heels locked behind his back as he pounded into her again and again.

Papers scattered. A framed photo tipped. Her phone buzzed on the desk and she slapped it away.

“Faster,” she begged, voice hoarse. “Please.”

He growled, hand slipping between them to rub her clit in hard circles.

“Come for me,” he hissed. “Now.”

She shattered.

Her whole body shook, a cry catching in her throat as her climax tore through her. He followed a moment later, hips stuttering, holding her tight as he spilled inside her.

The room went silent but for the sound of their breathing.

After a moment, she pushed him back with a weak hand to the chest.

“Get cleaned up. We have a team meeting in ten.”

Loki smirked, still catching his breath. “You’re adorable when you pretend I didn’t just fuck you stupid.”

She fixed her hair in the reflection of her office window. Found her blazer. Reapplied lipstick.

Loki was pulling his shirt back on, utterly unfazed.

As he walked to the door, she said without turning around: “Lock it behind you.”

He did. Of course he did.

Because they had rules.

And even gods knew not to cross a Stark on her turf.

[blackynsupremacy]

“HI, MS. PARKER!”

pairing: female!reader x female!bff x oldermale!character

inspo: friday (1995)

18+ vibes, so minors dni! contains: age gap, flirting, teasing, mention of a threesome, arousal, implied smut, swearing.

the neighbor: clark kent, steve rogers, thor odinson, logan howlett, derek morgan, dean winchester, erik killmonger, john winchester, bucky barnes or any character the reader has in mind!

taglist: @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @afrowrites @rosiestalez @zombiehe4rt @sabrinasopposite @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu

the sun adores the illuminated skin of you and your best friend. it’s friday, ya’ll ain’t got work nor classes, so you decided it was a beautiful day to take a bike ride through the neighborhood. it’s a blazing temperature of eighty-seven, so of course you’re both scantily clad in black halters and denim cut offs with slides before you hit the block. as you peddle around the corner, you spot him. it was one of your neighbors that had a decade on your twenty-five year old selves, but who gave a damn when he’s this—fine and recently divorced. your eyes gawk at how each of his muscles flexes in that tight-ass white tank top while performing the most mundane tasks such as mowing the lawn or fixing his car. the stains of perspiration leave a glistening mess on areas of his skin such as his arms, chest, and neck. you and your friend give each other a smirk, a glint of mischief within your eyes. you simultaneously wave at the man and greet him in the “friendliest” tone as you have done in prior occasions.

“heeeey!” you both squeal and let a few giggles escape as if you were back in your high school days.

he stops what he’s doing and lifts his head up at the harmony of your voices. he wipes the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand as an amicable grin curves on his lips. he raises a bulging arm in the air, a baritone voice resonating to reciprocate the greeting.

“hey, ladies! how ya doin’?”

“we’re good!”

you turn your heads to secretly converse with each other as the raunchiest of thoughts run circles through your minds. your friend mutters under her breath on your behalves.

“we’d be better if you’d let us fuck.”

he peered at you both with a tantalizing gaze, an arched brow and a piqued smirk that thankfully, both of you couldn’t see. this was a weekly routine of this teasing and he played right along with ya’ll. he hadn’t really got any play since the divorce finalized because he was just trying to focus on himself, but how could he focus with these two pyt’s basically eye fucking him each time they pass by as their bodies bounced on their bikes? the aching sensation of his dick hardens as he couldn’t deny the fact that he was just as intrigued as you and your friend. he often battled with himself as to which one he would take first, but then again—why not both at the same time?

“i’m sorry, what’d you say, honey?” he feignedly inquired.

to say ya’ll were gagged was an understatement because there’s no way that man heard what your friend said. albeit it was true that both of you held a strong attraction to the older male, ya’ll weren’t gonna let him know that too quick.

you stammered to save your asses.

“uh—nothing! have a good one, sir!”

the heat of embarrassment rushed on your faces as you waved again and peddled off a few more blocks before retiring back to your home. after that encounter, you both needed a cold shower to cool off the area that needed it the most.

later that evening as you both were binging your favorite reality show, your phones pinged at the same time. you both picked them up to see you got a new message from an unknown number and they put you in a group chat: you, your friend, and the unknown person.

the message read:

you know i’ve heard you loud and clear earlier.

baffled, you read the message and you took it upon yourself to respond:

i’m sorry. who’s this and how’d you get our numbers?

don’t act so coy. you girls like to tease me every week on those bikes.

•••

it’s driving me fucking crazy.

it dawns on you both that this unknown person was…your neighbor.

“oh…” you started.

“…shit.” your friend finished your thought and she responds in the chat.

we didn’t mean to tease! we just wanted to say hi real quick because you looked so busy.

“and so damn fine.” you mutter, eyes not pulling from the screen awaiting the next response.

•••

let’s cut to the chase. it’s obvious you want to—have your way with me. i feel the same way, so if you stunning young ladies wanna know how a real man does it, swing by my place in the next 10 minutes. ;)

•••

you said you want to fuck, so let’s fuck.

you both stare at your phones then at each other not knowing that as you were reading each word your thighs instinctively clenched together to hold in the arousal that was erupting between your legs. as if you were speaking telepathically, you both deserved to relieve some tension with one of the finest men on your street. you kept your end of the bargain because within ten minutes you’re both standing in anticipation at his front door. you were getting a taste of your own medicine as his sculpted figure leaned against the frame. one of his forearms supporting his body while his other hand “tries” to grasp onto the cotton towel that was lowering at his navel. he skips the formalities by using his large, two fingers to beckon you both into the house and you both simply follow his command.

a ménage a toi—who knew that this was a way to spend a friday evening?

[jadekillian]

Part 3/5

Part 1 here, part 2 here

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝗔 𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗶��𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗹 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗧𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗢𝗱𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗼𝗻—𝗚𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝗔𝘀𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗱—𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗯𝗲𝗱𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘆, 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘀 𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝗻. 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 (𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘂𝗻𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆), 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝗟𝗼𝗸𝗶 𝘅 𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘅𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗹𝗼𝘁

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝟭𝟴+ 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆, 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪, 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗗𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸, 𝗧𝗵𝗼𝗿 (𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟭) 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗟𝗼𝗸𝗶’𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝗰𝗸, 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝘁𝗵, 𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝘁𝗵

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝟭𝟴+ 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆, 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪, 𝗧𝗵𝗼𝗿 (𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟭) 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀, 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗰 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁, 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝟯+(?) 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝗻𝗮𝗱𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗰𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘂𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸 (𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗶𝗹𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗮 𝗰𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘆), 𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗵 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗵

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝗟𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝟵𝗸 (𝘆𝗼𝘂’𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝘂𝘁𝘀)

Guilt. It is an intense thing—something that slithers its long, crooked fingers around your throat and squeezes until accepting death would be more comforting than struggling to fill your lungs with oxygen.

Hooves dully thump against a dirt path, accompanied by the faint squeak of worn leather and the jangle of a bridle. Your arms tighten ever so slightly around Thor’s waist, your chin resting against his shoulder as he guides the angelic white stallion onward.

The morning sun is warm against your cheek, but shame is like a blanket of ice around your heart. It doesn't help that the very air smells of the younger prince, his scent present in every breath you take. You wonder, not for the first time today, if Thor can smell the traces of your floral perfume clinging to his little brother's skin too.

“We will reach the village within a few hours. Are you faring well back there, my lady?” The God of Thunder breaks the silence with a rumbling, deep voice.

You swallow thickly and nod against him, only to remember a moment later that he can't see you. You clear your throat and say, with as much confidence as you can muster, “I'm quite alright, thank you."

"That's good," he murmurs in a way that doesn't sound particularly convinced. He remains silent for another few seconds before adding on, “And you, brother? You have been uncharacteristically quiet. I am beginning to think that your tongue has been cut out."

Loki snorts derisively from several feet behind you. "Oh, please. There isn't a knife sharp enough to cut my tongue out. If there were, I would have it stuck through your eye before anyone else had a chance to wield it.”

You feel the rumble of laughter beneath your hands, as if Thor is merely amused by the idea. He never did take Loki seriously, always brushing off his brother's threats like they were nothing more than a pesky fly.

"I'd like to see you try, brother."

"Do not test me."

You sigh, your head falling back as the two argue like a pair of children. Their words begin to blur together, nothing but meaningless background noise in the grand scheme of things.

Your mind wanders back to the previous night, remembering how it felt to have Loki's soft lips moving against yours. How his fingertips burned like brands against your skin. You'd been so eager, so willing, but the memory of his touch only serves to make you want to bury your head in the sand and never come out.

What a fool you are.

What a terrible, horrible fool.

You are a lady of the court. A soon-to-be Asgardian, an elven princess. To sully yourself in such a way with the youngest prince of all people was just...it was utterly unacceptable. But it had felt so good. So wrongfully right. That was, you're certain, the part that bothers you the most. Because wanting to be taught a lesson is one thing, but actually enjoying it is entirely different.

“—You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

You blink rapidly, your thoughts scattering to the wind as Loki's voice breaks through. You sit up straighter, pulling away from Thor so you can crane your neck around and glance at the god. His dark horse now trots easily beside you, the stallion's long, midnight-black mane catching the sunlight.

"I’m sorry?” You choke, your heart suddenly fluttering like a trapped bird against your ribcage.

Loki’s brows lift, his eyes catching yours and holding them prisoner. He seems to take note of your discomfort, for his lips curl upward into a devilish smirk. It is the first time today he has looked anything other than bored.

“Dueling, of course. As soon as we return to the palace, I would very much like to settle the score. If only to prove to Thor here that his overconfidence is, indeed, misplaced."

Oh.

He hadn't even been speaking to you.

Your face burns from the tips of your ears to the delicate curve of your neck. Of course that is what he is talking about—how would he possibly have known about any of the other thoughts that have been running amok through your mind? And yet, the amused glint in his eyes claim something entirely different.

You tear your gaze away, focusing instead on the rocky path. Thor merely huffs in response to Loki's remark.

“Using magic is no way to determine skill in dueling, brother," he states matter-of-factly. “Without your childish party tricks, I would best you every time. But, as it is, you are quite fond of cheating."

"I didn't hear you complaining about my 'childish party tricks' when I saved your royal, egotistical arse from those cold monsters," Loki retorts, spitting the word 'monster' out like it's a piece of rotten fruit. “A true fight is never fair. Never honest. To claim otherwise is foolhardy and delusional."

Thor doesn’t miss a beat. “I had the situation under control.”

“If by ‘under control’ you mean that you were about to be skewered through the heart like a piece of meat, then yes. You had everything well in hand."

“If neither of you shuts up right now, you won't have to worry about settling the score, for I will be the one to kill you both." You interrupt before Thor can retort, knowing that this could go on for hours if you don’t intervene. "You are both big and strong and powerful, and I am sure all the nine tremble before your very presence. Please, just give me some peace and quiet. I beg of you both."

“Oh, look at that—the princess needs a nap," Loki deadpans, lazily flipping his hand in your general direction. You're pretty sure he actually rolls his eyes, but you can't see well enough to tell. “By all means, use Thor's shoulder. You wouldn’t be the first maiden to drool on his armor.”

Your stomach clenches and your body grows rigid. There is the Loki you remember. Brash and rude, cold-hearted and callous. The very epitome of cruelty, wrapped in a pretty package. Still, you suppose you should have expected him to use your insecurities as ammunition. After all, his chamber doors were no longer closed. He had promised normalcy outside of his lessons, and he had delivered that promise tenfold.

You expect Thor to speak up on your behalf—to reprimand his brother as any true gentleman would. But instead, he shifts uneasily, adjusting the collar of his tunic.

An awful, cold feeling settles in your bones.

“Speaking of, brother,” Loki smoothly says, ignoring the tensing set of your shoulders—and there it was again. The distaste in his tone when addressing Thor as his kin—a reoccurrence since their latest trip to Jotunheim only a couple of weeks ago.

You're not entirely sure what happened, but something did. It seemed as though something changed within the youngest prince—a darkness began to stir behind those eyes. It wasn't visible to everyone, of course. It was more of a feeling than anything. A subtle shift in his demeanor that only a handful of people noticed.

You noticed.

Thor had been banished to Earth for a week as punishment for leading the group into Jotunheim, leaving you alone with Loki. In your time with him, you noticed his mood souring. He spent more time in his chambers than usual, and you often found him staring at nothing with a distant look on his face.

He continues, “You and Lady Sif spent a great deal of time together this morning, did you not?”

Thor clears his throat. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his hands tighten around the reins. "She and I train together often. What of it?"

There is a deadly silence between them before Loki chimes back in with a nonchalant, "Oh, nothing at all. I was simply curious. It sounded like a rather serious discussion for something as frivolous as sword-fighting techniques."

Your eyes narrow as they drift from the pathway to the golden hair in front of you—the thick neck and brawny shoulders, sculpted from millennia of battles and bravado. You suddenly feel ill, like someone has stabbed a hot poker into your gut.

“Loki.” His name is a warning, a low rumbling growl in the pits of Thor's throat. Whether it is an admonishment to cease his instigating or a plea to not press any further, you can't be certain.

You aren’t even sure you have the right to feel what you're feeling right now—but a strange cocktail of dread and jealousy washes over you all the same.

“What conversation?” You try to sound careless, but even you can hear the catch in your voice. The doubt, the uncertainty.

You don’t like how suddenly quiet it becomes, save for the clopping of hooves and the wind whipping through the trees.

Before you can demand that one of them actually speak up, a horn blares throughout the sky above you. You have arrived at the village market, you realize numbly. How wonderfully convenient timing.

Women, men, and children alike kneel on the roadside as your trio passes, their gazes reverent and heads tilted downward, only rising from their position once your horses come to a stop and the three of you dismount.

There is music coming from somewhere just up ahead, as well as the scents of freshly cooked meats and baked pastries. Already, vendors have begun singing the praises of their wares, each advertising themselves louder than the other. Colorful tents are set up in the main circle, drawing your gaze to where beautiful fabrics are held on display and expensive jewels glitter beneath the sun. Other vendors, you notice, sport potions, weapons, and the occasional book or scroll.

The village looks like many others on Asgard—proud stone buildings and proud citizens. Usually, Asgard's beauty would never fail to take your breath away, but today...today you are finding it a challenge to enjoy the scenery.

“Well,” Thor clears his throat, holding his arm out towards you, “shall we?"

You smile shakily, an ugly mix of emotions clawing at the inside of your chest. Still, you feign politeness and wrap your fingers around his muscular forearm. "Of course.”

Loki—eyes flashing towards the two of you—tenses visibly. He is a shadow beside you, hovering like a storm cloud. What he is thinking, you don't know, but you are certain whatever thoughts lie within his mind are far from friendly. But, rather than cause any trouble (for once), he walks ahead through the crowd, slipping effortlessly from person to person like a snake amongst the underbrush.

Unable to stop the churning of your stomach, you allow yourself to be dragged away to a tent whose banners depict that of an open eye with no color to fill the iris.

***

Several hours later finds you standing in a dimly lit bar, a half-finished, heavily watered-down drink clasped in your hands. The tavern is loud and brash, full of drunkard laughter and off-tune lute playing. There is a small bard in one corner that does an exceptional job entertaining the crowd. His voice, when heard over the clamor, is soft and melodic and wraps around your aching mind like a balm.

You try to focus on it.

You try to focus on anything other than the cryptic reading you'd received from the blind seer that sat cross-legged on the rickety floor of her tent. When you'd entered the dreary little den with Thor by your side, she had tsk'ed as you stood before her. Her wrinkled hands had slowly roamed your face, fingertips cold as death. She'd called you royalty, a woman of two worlds—half in the sun, the other half shrouded in shadow.

"A destiny riddled with sin and secrets," she murmured, almost sympathetically, "your fate shall be forged in the embers of two raging hearts. But whether your ashes shine gold or black will rest solely on your decision."

She'd then taken your hands in hers, clasping them so tight you feared your bones would grind against one another. "It is already muddied, this line of decision," she hissed. "Be certain you've made the correct choice when the time comes."

You had an aching suspicion as to what those words were meant to imply, but you quashed it down immediately. The only choice you had to make was to accept the inevitable, to join Thor and fulfill your duty as a princess. The point of this whole trip, after all, was to assure Odin and Frigga that you were worthy. Worthy to inherit the crown. Worthy to someday become queen. Worthy to continue the royal line.

A bit too late, it seemed. You knew not why this order came so suddenly, but you had a vague suspicion it had everything to do with the look Queen Frigga had given you last night at breakfast. A look of suspicion—questioning. As if she were silently probing into your deepest thoughts, rummaging through the contents, and silently evaluating you. You feared she knew somehow about your betrayal, and that's the reason why she had arranged for a meeting between you and the seer.

Or, maybe you were just paranoid.

You were a traitor. Not only to Thor, but to yourself as well. You were, like the seer said, a woman living two lives. In the light, you were a princess. Dutiful and docile. But in the dark, behind closed doors, you craved something you shouldn't. Something—someone—not meant for you.

You had prepared yourself, or at least tried to, for today to be the end of a road. The milky-eyed woman would deem you unworthy and incapable, and Odin would deny the union. You could return to Alfheim and try to forget any of this ever happened. Go back to your family and your duties, and spend a thousand lifetimes trying to feel satisfied.

But she hadn't rejected you—and you'd never been more confused.

"You will someday make a wise and brave queen." Her breathless whisper was her final prediction, voice cracking from age and abuse, "Though only in one of these worlds will that hold true, my lady. Choose wisely, for once you choose, you will commit."

Her words echoed within your head like the banging of a gong. Made you doubt. Made you question. It seemed simple enough what she was saying—Thor or Loki. Sunshine or shadow. It almost seemed ridiculous, because of course your choice was Thor. It had always been Thor, hadn't it? You loved him. You were grateful for him. Yet you found your traitorous eyes straying, glimpsing the dark prince sitting across the room at a secluded corner, and, gods help you, every part of your being yearned for his touch again.

You sigh into your drink, closing your eyes as the bard's song came to an end. When you peek open your lids, you find Loki watching you. He's angled in the shadows, barely illuminated by the low-burning candles perched atop the wooden tables. He doesn't smirk or leer. He just holds your gaze—like a predator—until you break away first.

"It is rather late." Thor takes your attention briefly. He finishes the rest of his mead and pushes his empty flagon forward. "Perhaps it is best we leave. If we wish to get back to the palace before the celebration feast, then we mustn't dawdle any longer."

"Right… the feast," you murmur, unable to keep the disappointment out of your voice. You down the rest of your mead, the unpleasant taste barely noticeable at this point. You hate those formal celebrations. Hate the noise, the overly extravagant dresses you were forced to wear, and mostly you hated the amount of etiquette that was required.

Thor's face flashes with understanding. He understands you more than you could ever give him credit for. The two of you did grow up together, after all.

"Then again," he drawls, the corner of his mouth lifting into a faint smile, "I have had much to drink. So much so that, I'm sure, one can't blame me if I happen to, ah... pass out before we even have the chance to reach the stables. Maybe we should rest for the night? Until my senses return, of course."

A soft sound leaves your throat, a sound that falls somewhere between a huff and a chuckle. "Now that would be awfully irresponsible, wouldn't it?"

He grins at you. "Only just a little…"

Your fingers toy with the edge of your sleeve, your teeth anxiously gnawing at your lower lip. You contemplate it for all of three seconds before finally offering a small nod of agreement.

"I would like that."

"It's settled then," Thor concludes, standing from his chair and, not without the dramatics of course, promptly stumbles as if on cue. He chuckles, bracing a hand against the table for support.

"By the gods," you say, rolling your eyes but smiling. "You're an awful actor."

"I do believe I should request to use the bed. Can't have me sleeping in the dirt, now can we?" He waggles his brows playfully before reaching towards his pocket and laying a couple of gold coins on the tabletop. "Three rooms."

The burly, dark-haired man that had only a moment earlier been conversing with Thor while pouring another round of drinks, gives a nervous grin. His shoulders drop ever so slightly.

"O-oh, of course, Your Highness. But, if I may, the rooms...we only have two available for the night." His voice trembles just as much as his hands do. "I must apologize; if I'd known you'd be stopping by, I would have made arrangements—"

"Two rooms will be sufficient," Thor says, cutting the other man off before he has a chance to launch into a guilt-ridden ramble.

You interject, as if proper decorum suddenly mattered. "Thor, we can not lay our heads in the same place before our nuptials. It simply isn't acceptable."

"Ah," he waves his hand, unconcerned, "there's no need to worry. I am sure that Loki will have no objections to sharing a room with me"

You notice, in the way you can't quite help it, Loki's gaze lift up. His eyebrows draw together, his expression completely and utterly dubious. He had been listening the entire time—not that this revelation came as any shock to you.

Thor strides across the tavern floor and towards his brother. He slaps Loki good-naturedly on the shoulder as he sits.

"And what, pray tell," Loki muses, his tone laced with nothing but boredom as he casually spins the dagger in his hand, the silver blade dancing between each of his long, pale fingers, "would lead you to think that I have any desire to be kept up all night with your incessant snoring?"

"It isn't any different from having to put up with your quiet sulking."

The blade stills in his hand. You find yourself unconsciously leaning forward to better hear their hushed bickering.

"I do not 'sulk,'" Loki mutters. "I simply prefer silence. Something I won't get if I have to share a room with you."

"Well," Thor grunts, arms folded tightly across his broad chest. "My intended and I are staying the night here, and as per per tradition we can not share the same room. Your choice is to either take your horse and ride back to the palace or bunker down here with me for the time being."

It was in that moment you saw the idea formulate behind Loki's narrowed eyes, so perfectly visible his mind's machinations. The sly tilt of his head, the curious set of his brows. It was as if every star within the galaxy had aligned at that single moment of clarity. And the next words to spill from the youngest prince's mouth make your entire stomach sink.

“So I will share a room with her." He nods his chin towards where you sit frozen. "If you don't mind, of course. But she will be family soon enough, and I grow tired of our bickering. It would do good to move past our childish hatred and work towards an actual civil relationship. What better way than to spend a quiet night in each other's company?"

Oh, he was clever. So very, very clever.

And Thor, the poor drunk fool, fell into his brother's carefully spun trap. Hook, line, and sinker. The look of worry on Thor’s face, however, isn't lost on you. For a moment you believe it is due to the obvious—the prospect of you and the Trickster alone, in a dark room, while Thor is unbearably sloshed—but then you overhear his low muttered words.

“What you heard today—"

"-Does not concern me," Loki cuts him off curtly. "That was your conversation, not mine. Let us leave it at that, and we will talk no more of this."

'It sounded like a rather serious discussion for something as frivolous as sword-fighting techniques.'

You gulp back the nerves building in the back of your throat. Tonight was going to be a long, sleepless night.

***

The room is smaller than you anticipated. Much smaller.

In the center sits a singular queen-sized bed, layered thick with pillows and furs and blankets. There isn't much to it apart from that. Only a simple fireplace and a tall wooden armoire stacked in one corner with a dresser settled beside it. The walls are a rusted red color with the paint chipping off the craggy surface. It was the type of room only fit for weary travelers, dirty from weeks of travel and seeking cheap rest.

"Well, it's quaint." Loki shrugs his jacket off and neatly drapes it over the back of a wooden stool as he locks the door shut with a flick of his wrist. "At the very least, it will serve its purpose for tonight."

You can not find it in you to agree.

"Quaint would be the politest definition I'd use," you mutter as you cross the small room and gently swipe your fingers across the bedspread. It was rough and coarse, a contrast to the velvety sheets of your personal chambers.

"Spoiled little elf," he murmurs, humorlessly chuckling at your disapproving frown.

"You speak as if we both did not grow up as royalty," you retort.

"That may be, but I know how to carry on when that comfort is lost. You," he pauses, lips pursing into a thin line, "not so much."

You bristle, straightening your back. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

He sighs, as if he's growing tired of this conversation already. As if he weren't the one to invite himself into your space.

You helplessly wonder if he is talking about physical luxuries or if he is speaking of something else entirely. Something more personal. Either way, you don't care for the insinuation nor his condescending tone.

A deep breath fills your lungs. In and out, slowly. Calmly. "What are you doing here?"

“To teach you.”

It is said with such simplicity, such finality, that you can't help but stare. He stares right back, face devoid of anything you could pinpoint. Emotionless.

“No,” you shake your head, confusion marring your brow. "I mean, why did you come with us today? Only Thor was needed to witness my reading. You had no purpose here."

A pause. Then, "Would you rather I hadn't?"

Yes. No. You didn't know.

The question hung heavily in the air, waiting for an answer. An answer you did not have. Your stomach rolls like a ship in a storm, and you feel as if you could very well be sick.

“I asked you a question first," you insist.

He takes a step forward. You take a step back.

“I wanted to spend time with my brother and his future bride. Is that so difficult to believe?"

Another step towards you. Another step away from him.

“Yes,” you bite, your back colliding with the wall. The coolness seeps through your dress like ice water, and you shiver, though you do not know if it is due to the temperature or the way he was looking at you. Like a starved man eyeing a feast.

You didn't understand it. How could he be so indifferent one moment, then the next look at you like he wanted nothing more than to consume you whole?

“Tell me what you overheard this morning,” you whisper, changing tactics.

His head tilts just the slightest. It's a gesture you've come to learn means he is contemplating something. You can see the gears turning inside his head. Weighing the pros and cons of giving in to your request.

“Do you purposely live life with your eyes closed, princess?" He asks instead. His hand, so suddenly, is touching your cheek. Gently, his fingertips trace the sharp curve of your cheekbone. His touch is freezing, as cold as a winter wind. "Or do you simply choose to ignore what is directly in front of you?"

“Stop with the riddles," you breathe, though there is no conviction behind it. "Just...tell me."

For the first time since you’ve met him, he appears uncertain. It is a look that doesn't suit him. He stands before you, lips pursed tightly together and his brow creased with lines of worry. For once, he actually looks as if he were searching for the correct words.

You hold your breath, waiting.

“He has not betrayed you if that is what you are concerned about," he finally answers, his tone careful. Treading on thin ice. "But he does have secrets. As do you, need I remind you?"

Your pulse races beneath your skin, thudding so loudly you're positive he can hear it too. You want to ask him what he means, want to ask him how he knows, but your tongue is thick in your mouth and you are suddenly too afraid of the answer.

The pads of his fingers trail down your jaw. You tremble beneath the light touch, eyes closing briefly.

"But I am not here to speak of my brother,” he continues, voice soft as silk. His touch leaves your face, only to glide along the side of your neck, and you find yourself leaning into the coolness of his caress. "Closed doors, remember?”

You nod, dumbly, because it is all you can do.

“I want you to look at me."

You obey, much to your own surprise.

He's closer somehow. The heat radiating off his body is tangible, warming you to your very core. It feels nice in contrast to the chill of his skin.

“Tell me, what was our previous lesson?” His thumb sweeps across your lower lip, pressing into the plump flesh. "Be a good girl and remind me."

Oh.

You swallow the lump that is steadily forming in your throat. “Pleasure.”

“Pleasure,” he repeats, a small, approving smile curling at his mouth. "And did you enjoy it?"

It feels like a trick.

A trap, waiting for you to fall right into the jaws of it.

You can't trust him.

You shouldn't trust him.

Yet still the word slips from your lips.

"Yes."

There is no hiding the flash of desire that flits across his face. His pupils widen, nearly taking up the entirety of his iris.

“And?” He coaxes.

It takes you a moment to realize what he's waiting for.

“Letting go of shame,” you whisper.

“Then why are you holding onto it now?" He murmurs. "Why are you hesitating?"

“I-"

"It is simple. Do not overthink it." He leans down, his breath fanning across the shell of your ear. His teeth graze the pointed tip, and your heart jumps inside your chest. "All you were required to do last night was take, but now...now you will learn to give.”

The pressure of his hand presses down onto your shoulder, gentle but demanding. One moment you were standing on shaky knees, and the next you were kneeling.

It is belittling. Humiliating. But the way in which he looks at you, his mouth set and his jaw tense, is almost empowering. Almost.

“Lesson number two,” he bends down until the two of you are at eye level, “is service."

He watches you, no doubt scrutinizing every expression that passes across your face. You dare not look away, despite the anxious churning in the pit of your stomach.

He presses the tip of his middle finger against your mouth, sliding it past your parted lips and onto the slick surface of your tongue.

"Suck." He orders.

You nearly choke at the sheer vulgarity of it. Surely that could not feel pleasurable, could it? All the times you'd overheard the crude stories from drunk men in the taverns, how in-detailed they'd often been with their lewd descriptions of their sexual conquests, you'd never heard anything like this.

Usually it was a...well...mouth on a person's—on their...

The thought alone makes your face burn hotter than fire. Loki seems to catch on to where your mind had wandered, for he is barely containing the smug grin stretching his lips.

“Do not tell me you know not how to press your lips together and suction.” His tone is every bit condescending and patronizing. A quiet rumble of laughter reverberates throughout his chest as his eyes narrow the slightest bit. “If that is is truly the case, then I have much more work ahead of me than I'd originally intended.”

If only looks could kill, Loki would be dying a most horrible death.

You latch onto his digit, hollow cheeks forming around the thin width. You think, just for a brief moment, of biting down and tearing it right from the knuckle. That would wipe that nauseating smirk right off his face. It would put him in his place. It would—

Without warning, he pushes his index finger into your mouth as well, the digits bumping against your teeth. Deeper and deeper they go, until the pads touch the velvety flesh of your throat.

Your lashes flutter wildly, and against your volition they build wet and thick with the threat of tears. What you can see through your blurred vision of Loki is his slack expression, his brow knitted and his eyes rounded with something akin to fascination. Or maybe even wonder.

“No gag reflex," he murmurs, seemingly to himself. "Now, isn't that a pleasant surprise?"

He speaks as if you are some foreign thing to be studied. Locked away within a glass encasement like a curated artifact. A prized possession.

Innocent as you may be, you were certainly no ignorant little girl. You knew exactly what that reaction meant to him. Exactly what he had insinuated in his low, sultry tone. But suddenly your knowledge seems severely lacking. Childish, compared to his experience.

Shame. It was the first logical emotion you felt, and the only one that was apparently forbidden. He didn't want you to have shame, just as he did not want you to overthink. So for now, you had nothing else left but to accept, to let go. Even if you were not so sure of the rules of this little game he was playing.

If growing up in Asgard as an elven outcast had taught you anything, it was to fake confidence, even when you lacked it. To have pride, regardless.

So you do exactly that.

You roll your tongue against the intruding fingers, holding them captive within your warm, wet mouth.

Were you expected to actually suckle? Or did the visual alone satiate him? Perhaps the sight of you, face flushed and on your knees, was satisfactory enough.

Before you could dwell any further, he abruptly slid his wet, glistening fingers from the cage of your mouth. Saliva coats the appendages and links a thin line to your lips until the tension snaps and sloppily drops down your chin.

You quickly wipe the back of your hand over your mouth, glancing up at him under heavy lids. He's watching you with an intensity that makes you clench your thighs together and rub them subtly, your mind taking you back to the way he had touched you the night before.

Slow, gentle, precise.

"Tell me," you breathe, the tip of your tongue darting out to trace the plumpness of your bottom lip. You barely acknowledge the way his gaze follows the motion. "What would you have me do next?"

His expression twists just the slightest, nostrils flaring and jaw taut. As if whatever it was that had formed in his mind, whatever he had wanted to say next, had died before even having the chance to be spoken aloud.

It seems, in the briefest of seconds, an entire debate brews behind his eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards before he decides upon, simply, "I will have you will pay me the same courtesy I did for you."

By that, of course, he was speaking of last night.

The incessant beating of your heart thrums throughout your entire body like a thousand small drums. Could you? Could you actually open your mouth and taste him like he had done with you?

To feel him jerk and twitch and come apart on your tongue and lips. What would the consistency be like, the taste of it?

You were about to learn.

He takes your hand and places it over his crotch, curving your palm over the hardening ridge straining against the thick material of his leathers. You gulp, your fingers curling involuntarily over the shape.

He's watching so intently, and a shiver goes up the expanse of your spine.

You look at him for what feels like an eternity. Into those green eyes, murky with desire and flecked with shards of gold. It is easy to lose yourself in those hues. It is easy to forget why you shouldn't want to seek him out.

Thor is in the next room. Unaware and trustingly asleep, blissfully ignorant of the treacherous deed his fiancée and brother were currently committing against him.

'You will not look at me as Thor’s brother, nor yourself as his betrothed. When those doors close, those titles have no significance or power. Only pleasure.'

Loki’s past words echo like a prayer inside the corridors of your mind. And god help you, the guilt that threatened to swallow you whole slowly dissipated.

You were doing this for Thor, after all. It meant nothing. It was merely practice—an exchange of teachings.

That was it.

It didn't matter.

It… it just didn't.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks, interrupting the buzz inside your head. There is nothing mocking or cocky in the question—the inquiry is genuine.

Maybe, if your fingers hadn't been on his rapidly hardening length, if his knuckles hadn't been sweeping your neck ever-so-tenderly, you would've said no. But those circumstances weren't currently present, so you take a steadying breath and reply,

"Yes."

His lips quirk a little.

"Yes, what?" He teases, sliding his thumb along the hollow of your throat.

"I—yes," you repeat, pausing. "I am...okay with this. More than okay. I-"

I want this, you're about to say. Because in truth, you do. A little too much. But the admission burns itself before it has a chance to seep free from your lungs. Instead, you change it into "I want you to teach me."

There is a tick to his jaw as he registers your response, like it took him all of his willpower to not growl the filthiest obscenities right into your face.

He tilts his head, almost thoughtfully. "Such a brave little thing," he drawls. "Are you nervous?"

"Not of you," you say quickly. "It's...it's just new. Unfamiliar."

He brushes away the strands of hair sticking to your cheek, the ghost of his finger lingering on your cheekbone. "Trust your instincts." He hums, "Your body will know what to do."

You experimentally squeeze and are awarded a sharp inhale for your efforts. Encouraged, you continue with a slow and steady friction, delighting in the way the bulge grows larger and stiffer underneath your curious hand. Up and down, up and down, rubbing the hardening length through his ridiculously tight-fitting pants.

Your eyes and mind battle for dominance over where to stare. On the shape of him, straining so deliciously against your caress, or at his reactions.

A soft squeeze, then a firmer press of the palm. You watch his face the entire time, hoping to read something—anything—to indicate your actions are indeed pleasing him.

What feels nice? What doesn’t?

You were playing, and he was letting you explore freely. No rush to your exploration, no expectations.

Within minutes, you have come to learn that his breathing grows the fastest when you follow the natural curve of his length and softly drag your thumb at the very tip. He is the most sensitive there, you determine.

The first time it twitches, you glance at him to make sure you hadn’t accidentally hurt him. The second time it happens, his mouth parts on a skillfully contained sound. You realize, by the third instance, that it is because he likes it.

You feel strangely proud of that.

Feeling brave, you lean in to press a small kiss onto the mound, tentatively flicking your eyes upwards to look for the prince's approval. He gives it to you in the form of an encouraging nod, the veins in his neck tight.

You don’t miss the small sigh that follows as soon as your mouth reconnects with his fabric-clad member.

His fingertips slide into your hair, knotting themselves through the strands. Not controlling or forceful, merely there—anchoring and guiding.

“Norns help me," you hear him mutter under his breath, hissing sharply through clenched teeth. It was so quiet, barely audible and rasped. You think, perhaps, you weren’t meant to hear it.

“Take off the belt," he orders softly, regaining himself. There is no tremor or break in his voice—just control. Like he isn't unraveling bit by bit, a loose string ready to fall apart. “Slowly.”

He draws his hips away enough to accommodate the pull of his belt, the thick piece of leather clanking obnoxiously as you poorly attempt to work it free.

What should have been a two-second task, no longer than five, you struggle with for the duration of an excruciating eternity.

He could have helped you with the buckle, easily disassembled it with a snap of his fingers—but no, it is apparent Loki enjoys watching your awkward squirming as your nails scrape against the bronze piece.

“Do you need a hint?" He remarks dryly, no longer attempting to hold his amusement in. "The buckle goes through—"

“Don’t be condescending," you hiss.

He merely chuckles.

Finally—thank the gods, finally—he places his hands atop yours, stilling your failed attempts.

“Luckily for you, and perhaps all of Asgard, ceremonial gowns are required to be worn before the official union," he quips, effortlessly tugging the stubborn strap through. "Else I fear the entire realm and its guests would be subjected to a rather painfully boring and long night come tomorrow."

“So if undoing a belt isn’t a skill necessary for me to learn, then pray tell, why did you have me attempt it?" You snap, more venomously than needed.

Your comment doesn't earn any of his ire. Quite the opposite, as it merely serves to widen his grin.

Then he is leaning down, nose to nose. His face so dangerously close to yours. For a moment all you can do is hold your breath as his mouth, a hair's width away, ghosts over the plush swell of your lips. You wonder if he's going to actually kiss you. For a single, mad second, you want him to.

He does not.

“Because seeing you get ruffled is quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes," he whispers.

You feel something cool and heavy slide around your neck. Smooth. Solid. Tight but not suffocating. It only takes a second for you to realize he was fastening the length of his belt around your throat, like a noose ready for hanging.

He slips a finger under the leather and gives a small tug, testing the makeshift restraint before straightening his back once more. All while holding the remaining portion of the belt tightly bound between his closed fist.

“And," he continues, a sharp jerk of his hand causing you to fall forward on your hands and knees, “I did warn you at the very beginning of our little arrangement, didn't I?”

He slowly begins to walk backwards, each step pulling you in tow until eventually he reaches the edge of the bed and sits with legs splayed wide and comfortable.

“I will teach you all you need to know, but the plan had always been to ruin you. To burn myself so intensely into your mind that no one—no matter the touch or the effort put towards pleasure—could possibly ever compare to that which you will receive from me."

You find yourself kneeling in front of the apex of his thighs, face level to his groin. You could only guess you had a ridiculous expression of bewilderment plastered to your visage, mouth parted on silent words.

He had warned you.

What a fool you were for ever doubting his promises.

“What then? Do you intend to—to turn me into a proper whore?" you manage to utter. "To crave you? Crave this?"

You had intended for it to seem more bitter than it sounded, more indignation and not desperate curiosity.

But he sees straight past the walls. Past your intentions and into your soul. The same soul that that seer had proclaimed to be torn in half—half dark and half light—which, right now, was rapidly bleeding into the shadows.

Dark and dank and ravenous.

“Well… it would be a shame to only accomplish one out of two goals,” he grins lazily, completely shameless.

You have nothing more to offer to that remark.

The belt wrapped around your throat is only pulled tighter as he gently ushers you closer to his crotch. So close that the intoxicating smell of musk, leather, and the slight remnants of winter cling to your nostrils like perfume.

With a wave of his hand, he magically vanishes the fabrics and the trappings that clung to his skin, exposing himself entirely to your wide-eyed gaze.

And exposed he is, in his entirety.

Your previous view of him in the baths had been darkened and foggy—too consumed with other things to properly appraise his nakedness. Yet now, oh, how much better everything looks with clarity.

It is so terribly, painfully obscene.

He is lean muscle, all compacted tightly within alabaster skin. Soft, silken flesh covering nothing but firm and well-crafted contours. Scars speckle the surface in different lengths and varying depths, giving testament to the long and often hard years he'd spent training for combat.

Before you can even realize what you're doing, you reach a hand forward and gently trace the faint white marks.

And him?

He lets you. He lets you run the flat of your fingers across every groove and indentation. Lower and lower until eventually his needy cock bumps against the heel of your palm.

Now you had known, due to your many studies of anatomy and the way the human body was formed, what a man's manhood generally looked like. But theory and practice were vastly different experiences, and never have you truly believed that anyone could actually be so well gifted.

Now that you are really paying attention, you take notice of the length of it. Elegantly long and subtly curved, flushed rosy pink at the tip. And the thickness, easily as wide as three of your fingers joined together, was definitely enough to make your mouth feel achingly full just by looking at it.

He really was made for sin.

“It would benefit you well to breathe," he prompts with a twist of his lips.

Only then do you remember to blink, to suck in much-needed oxygen.

He wraps one large hand around the base, lazily tugging up and down its length. You couldn't believe the way your insides clenched at the sight. Couldn't believe the way he was casually—so brazenly—pleasuring himself right before your eyes.

No shame. That's what you see when you glance up at his face. No shame and no guilt whatsoever.

You feel a soft tug at the belt, the sudden force lurching you forward until your hands are braced upon each of his knees to balance yourself and your face is once more leveled to his lap.

“Focus,” he commands, the pad of his thumb smearing the slippery essence that has leaked from the tiny slit. “Not on my face, not on your thoughts. Look nowhere but at my cock. At what I am doing to it."

And like the pathetic, starved thing that you are, you obey.

You stare in unbroken fascination at the way he tugs his length with controlled, measured strokes. Slow and torturously patient. Like this was nothing to him. Just another day of fulfilling his mundane duties and not a secretive rendezvous that could be overheard at any moment if anyone cared to listen hard enough.

Then, his eyes hood, the rhythmic stroking stops, and he looks down at you through a curtain of dark lashes.

“Do as I've shown.” His cold palm engulfs your smaller one, forcing your fingers around his velvety heat and into his preferred rhythm.

Using your hand as his own personal sex toy.

It is a filthy image. Watching the head of his member disappear inside your fist, then slip out again when the stroke ends. Faster. Harder. All done in perfect sync to the dictation of Loki's hand.

“That's it, so good," he murmurs low, the slightest hitch to his voice.

You weren’t sure when you began doing it yourself, but your hand steadily continues on even after Loki removes himself altogether. Your movements were nowhere near as skillful or controlled as his had been, but they had his nostrils flared and jaw clenching so tightly you were sure the bone could shatter at any moment.

“Do not be afraid to be a little more firm," he grunts, “I will not break, I promise you. You will not hurt me."

So you squeeze, tightening your grip around him. You are rewarded with a low hiss and the jerk of his hips.

The motion is repeated again and again, and each time it elicits the same response. It is addicting. The sound, the feeling. Knowing you could make the arrogant prince writhe and twitch and curse.

You wonder what would happen if you were to lick him. To wrap your mouth around him and suck. What would his reaction be?

He said to trust your body. To trust its instincts.

Without further thought, your head dips low and the tip of your tongue flicks out, barely ghosting over the leaking head.

Loki jolts, hissing loudly through his teeth.

You quickly flinch backwards, worried that perhaps you'd actually hurt him somehow. But his hand is suddenly there, cupping the back of your skull, urging you back.

"Norns, no," he growls, the muscles in his neck bulging. "Do not stop."

There is an animalistic quality to his voice, a raw and primal edge that sets your body ablaze.

He guides you forward until the smooth flesh of his cock is sliding past your lips, bumping against your teeth and touching the roof of your mouth.

He tastes...

You have no words for the taste.

You were not prepared for it to be so hot, so smooth, and so soft. You were not prepared for the way your core clenches and your stomach churns at the weight of him on your tongue.

You certainly were not prepared for the toe of his boot to slither up your dress and press itself firmly against the wetness that has pooled in your underwear.

You yelp around him, the sound muffled by the sheer girth stretching your jaw.

The prince groans, the hand buried in your hair clenching tightly and holding you captive to his lap.

You squirm, grinding the wet ache of your cunt down onto his shoe. Pure instinct. You were moving entirely on autopilot. There was no rational thought.

“Such a pretty thing." The heel of his boot rotates, grinding harder against the pulsating bundle of nerves. "My pretty little whore."

My.

The word bounces around inside the confines of your skull.

My whore.

His.

His whore.

The sound you make is a pathetic one. Something between a whimper and a moan—something that was never meant to be heard by Loki, because in the end you were not his.

In the end you were to marry his brother.

His brother, who had secrets of his own, who was not above hiding things.

Who was currently asleep, ignorant to the treachery occurring behind the closed door of the bedroom he'd booked.

“Tell me," he hisses, "do you enjoy this? Enjoy having my cock in your mouth?"

A whimper slips free as his hips give a short thrust, burying himself deeper into the welcoming home of your mouth.

You can't breathe. You can't speak. Yet still you attempt a nod.

He grunts, pulling back out to allow you a gulp of air before sliding back in. This time he nestles himself so far down your spasming throat that his balls graze the underside of your chin.

You are so full.

A trickle of saliva slides past the corner of your lips as you cough and sputter.

“Relax," he murmurs, soothingly massaging the base of your skull. "Relax your throat. Breathe through your nose… yes. Yes, just like that."

And then he is guiding your head up and down, slow and deep.

Wet, squelching sounds fill the air, and you are thankful that the tavern was still at its loudest and noisiest hours.

“I wish you could see how delicious you look right now." He pulls out for a brief second, giving your mouth a moment to collect the dribbling spit that had built up, before slipping back in. “Asgard’s little elven sweetheart with a cock stuffed between her pretty pink lips. Oh, what a sight you make."

You respond by grinding harder onto the boot pressed to your clothed core.

The pleasure is building.

Your body feels like it is on fire. You were burning alive.

Was it even possible to… to finish… like this?

The way your body was reacting—it was a possibility.

“So- so divine," Loki pants, his words beginning to slur. "To have you at my feet yet reduce me to the one worshipping. My, the gods must have a twisted sense of humor."

His breath catches.

He was close, you could tell. You could feel it in the way his muscles tense and the vein in his neck throbs. The way he was losing control, his movements growing choppy and desperate.

"You have no idea the amount of restraint it takes to not simply fuck your pretty little mouth so devastatingly that you can't speak for a week. The thought alone… oh, it would be the most pleasurable form of punishment I could ever think of giving you."

Another whimper. Another grind of the heel.

You were right on the edge.

“If only you knew how often I've thought of this. Dreamt of it," he confesses with a mirthless chuckle, his voice strained. "Every time you've managed to outsmart me with your sharp little tongue. Every time you've challenged me in front of Thor or those spineless, witless buffoons he calls friends. How many times have I had to hold myself back from dragging you to my bedchamber and fucking every single drop of defiance right out of your system?”

The information washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

All the times he had stared at you like he was imagining just how he would break you down. Like he was already forming a plan on how to destroy you. You’d always assumed it was merely distaste that made him glare so heatedly.

Had it all been this?

Desire? Lust?

Had your mouth not been full, you would've told him how you'd thought the same. How you had imagined it more times than you would ever care to admit.

But that would make you just as guilty as him. Just as bad.

This was supposed to be as simple as a teaching lesson. Nothing more. It did not require dirty words or lustful admittances.

And yet, despite your internal protests, you continue to grind yourself shamelessly onto the leather of his boot and grow wetter with every sinful word.

“Yet at the same time,” he groans, his tone taking on an almost somber note. "At the same time, that fire is what draws me to you. I fear if I were to ever put it out, I'd have nothing left but ash in my hands. And what a shame that would be, since you're such a marvel to observe when you're burning."

That was it.

That was what threw you over the edge. What sent you spiraling over the cliff and into pure oblivion. Your orgasm burned white hot and spilled through your veins like a fever, robbing you of the very air within your lungs.

Even the prince shudders, every muscle in his lean physique taut and trembling as he suddenly attempts to wrench himself free.

But you don't allow him the time to do so.

Before your very mind could even wrap around the idea of what you were doing, you were suddenly pressing down on his thighs, rooting him to the spot. All it takes is a single look up at him through your lashes and a purposeful hum. Just a simple vibration of your throat. And it is over.

The groan that leaves him is entirely strained and guttural. His neck cranes backward, exposing the full column of his adam's apple. Just once he gives a strong buck of his hips, and something bitter and warm and salty hits your taste buds.

Saliva, seed, and a mixture of the two dribble down your throat, clinging to your parched tongue in thick droplets. Even as your own vision blurs and your thoughts haze, you work your mouth around the head of his cock, swallowing every hot gush of his release.

Drinking it in until he's wrung completely dry, sated and satiated.

It was… good. Addicting. Instinctively, you find yourself licking the tip clean, like a greedy animal seeking a scrap of food. The action pulls a hiss from his lips, and his whole body jerks as if you've electrocuted him with some kind of invisible force.

How interesting.

You do it again. Again and again, simply because you can.

“Okay,” he rasps, tugging sharply at the belt. This time you did not resist, releasing him from the cage of your lips. "Okay. En- Enough. That is quite enough, temptress."

Slowly, the fog evaporates from your senses, and with it the restraint around your throat. You both sit there for a long while after. Fractured breaths filling the air.

The heat that had once seared your skin had all but burned away, and an icy chill danced along your spine. It is a dangerous chill that sinks in so deep it almost chokes the life right out of you.

So unbearably quiet.

So unnervingly still.

With a single snap of his fingers, Loki returns his proper attire. However, he does not look quite like a presentable prince. Not with the disheveled mess of his hair and the paleness of his sweaty face.

Carefully, he reaches forward, tilting your chin up so you're forced to look him directly in the eyes.

You aren't sure what exactly it was that he saw in your expression. Whether he was trying to decipher whatever was going through your head or simply admire how wrecked you most likely looked. Whatever he was searching for, he didn't seem to find it.

Loki lifts his thumb to your lips, slowly swiping away the spittle that clings to the corner of your mouth.

So tender, so... gentle.

Dangerous. That's what this feeling was. Too dangerous and too tempting.

And gods, why did everything he do have to be so confusing?

Stop looking at me, you scream silently. Stop making me feel so insanely lost.

Stop not being Thor.

Loki leans forward, bridging the gap between the two of you. But not on your mouth. On your forehead, where his lips lingered briefly. When he speaks, his words are barely audible. As if they were meant only for the walls and not your ears.

"What a tangled web we have weaved."

Then, just as quickly as it happened, he was on his feet and swiftly making for the door without ever turning to glance back.

You want to call out to him. Part your lips and beg him to look at you. But he doesn't.

All he leaves you with is the aftermath.

All he leaves is silence and even more confusion.

[super-marvel-dc]

Bucky, holding a rock: Y/N just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock."

Thor: If you don't marry them, I will.

[societyfolklore]

Just a Little More

Title: Just a Little More

Pairing: Thor x Virgin!Female Reader

Summary:  Your wedding night with Thor was meant to be a simple, just enough to fulfill tradition. Plans change.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Smut, Unprotected sex, Slight Dub Con, virginity lost, size difference, painful first time..  

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,

“There you are, there's my queen.”

[vbecker10]

The Brother Tax

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You find out Loki has an interesting way of getting cash.

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a little while and one of my friends from work finally convinced me to write it. (Love you!) This is silly and I know the first bit doesn't have Loki but just wait for it. I hope you all enjoy it! 💚

Bucky opens the door to the bank and holds it open for Steve and Thor. "Just admit you lost the money," Bucky rolls his eyes.

"I didn't lose it," Thor says defensively. "I swear I had a hundred dollars this morning." He walks over to the ATM and opens his empty wallet.

"Sure," Steve laughs as he stands next to Bucky across from the ATM. "It just vanished into thin air."

Thor sighs and puts his card in the machine, "I don't know where it went but I didn't lose it. Why would I lie about that?"

"So you don't have to pay me for losing the bet," Steve suggests.

Thor shakes his head as five crisp 20 dollar bills pop out of the ATM. He reaches for them but the second his fingers touch the bills, they vanish instantly. "What the-?" he asks, furrowing his brow in confusion.

"What?" Bucky stands up straight from the wall he was leaning on.

"It's gone," Thor looks over at his friends. "The money just... disappeared."

"Seriously?" Steve folds his arms across his chest in disbelief. "Look, if you don't have the money, it's fine. We'll find a different way for you to work off the bet."

"I have money," Thor says, his annoyance growing. "This is ridiculous," Thor mumbles as he shakes his head, turning back to the ATM. The God of Thunder presses a few more buttons slowly and another stack of 20 dollar bills comes out. With a deep breath, he touches the money lightly but again the cash vanishes instantly as Steve and Bucky lean closer to watch. Thor swears loudly in Asgardian, causing the two super soldiers to take a step back in surprise.

Bucky laughs, "Well that's a problem."

Thor angrily presses the buttons on the ATM again and takes a step away when the money comes out. "Steve can you...?" he asks, trying to contain his frustration.

"Yeah, I've got it," Steve steps up to the machine and easily takes the bills. Counting out the sixty Thor owes him, he hands the reaming money over.

Thor holds out his hand and as soon as the bills are placed in his palm, they vanish.

"Loki!" he yells as he slams the door to the bank opens and storms out followed closely by Bucky who can barely contain his laughter and Steve as he puts his winnings into his wallet.

As you lay on the couch with your head on Loki's lap a small green glow catches your attention. You look away from the TV, your focus moving towards the end table where Loki keeps his wallet and keys. A few moments later you see the green glow again and sit up, staring at his wallet curiously.

"What's wrong darling?" he asks.

"Your wallet is... glowing," you tell him.

He chuckles as it glows a third time. "Oh, that's the brother tax," he says with a smile that you know means trouble.

"The what?" you raise an eyebrow.

"Thor was being rather annoying yesterday so I decided to try out a new spell," he explains. "Any time he comes in contact with cash, it will appear in my wallet."

You giggle, "Loki, that's mean!"

He smirks, "You didn't seem to mind when I bought you those flowers and that little green bear."

"You bought those with Thor's money?" you look over at the cute, stuffed bear sitting on the armchair in the corner then back up at Loki.

"It's my money now," he corrects you gently.

"Mmhmm," you hum in response. "You tell Thor that when he figures out what's happening."

"It'll take that oaf a week to figure it out," Loki insists.

You lay back down on his lap and Loki leans down to kiss your lips lightly. He sits back again and runs his fingers through your hair as you both continue to watch the movie.

(Twenty minutes later)

"Loki!" Thor shouts from the hallway as he knocks heavily on the door.

"A week huh?" you ask, sitting up.

"It seems I might have underestimated him a little bit," Loki admits with a shrug.

"So... what's the plan now?" you wonder as Thor knocks again.

Loki chuckles, "I honestly hadn't thought this far ahead but I suggest we don't open the door for the time being."

You laugh and turn the TV up a bit louder as you lay back down. "What am I going to do with you, Mischief?"

He kisses your forehead, "Love me?"

"I guess I can do that," you smile up at him then focus on the movie once again as Thor's knocks become fainter.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

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[biblicallyaccuratemeat]

Lilacs

MDNI!!!

A/N: Trying out a new image/header thing! Just some super self-indulgent Thor smut because I felt like waxing poetic about him and writing all silly and formal. As always, betaread by my lovely bestie @teaflavoredwitch! Thor Odinson x female reader, wedding night, fluff & smut, first time, loss of virginity, body worship, bath sex, p in v sex, fingering, praise kink, breeding kink, loss of innocence, unprotected sex, loving & gentle, Thor speaking like Shakespeare (...doth mother know you weareth her drapes?) Also, learned a new word for coochie, quim! Googled medieval words for puss and that came up soooo... the more you know!

Word Count: 9.9k

Thor sat beside you at the head table, resplendent in his ceremonial armor polished to a brilliant shine. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, quite literally, in your magnificent gown. The gown was a vision of ethereal beauty, the gossamer fabric shimmering like a waterfall of stardust and moonlight. The long off-the-shoulder sleeves draped elegantly over your slender arms, the delicate lilacs braided into your hair only added to your enchanted appearance. You had never felt more beautiful in your life, though all you cared about was Thor’s stormy gaze fixed on you. 

He reached for your hand beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze as he leaned in close, “You look breathtaking,” he murmured, his voice filled with reverent awe. “A goddess among mortals.” He raised your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. Your wedding band, quite simple in comparison to the grand festivities, glimmers in the light. A band of gold boasting a dazzling sapphire in the center, the color of which reminds you of Thor’s eyes. The sapphire of your ring matches the diadem resting in your hair, you have to remind yourself, you’re a princess now. The diadem decorating your head is already an impossible to ignore weight, both physically and mentally.

As the festivities continued around you, the head table laden with the finest delicacies Asgard had to offer, your lavender cake a sweet treasure among them, Thor couldn’t help but steal glances at you, admiring the way your diadem atop your head gleamed, a crown fit for the new queen of his heart. He raised his goblet of mead in a toast, a broad grin spreading across his handsome face. “To the loveliest bride in all the realms,” he declared, his voice booming with joyous abandon. “May our union be blessed with love, laughter, and a household of healthy, strong children.” His grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief and longing. “A daughter with your spirit, perhaps? Or a son with my strength and your charm?”

Images flood your mind, unbidden. A fair haired little boy , trying to lift Mjölnir before bursting into a fit of giggles. A baby girl with stormy eyes, bundled up in your arms as you see Thor off into battle. Motherhood was something you’d always anticipated, though you’d never pictured Thor as the father. Until now…

Thor downed the last of his mead and set the goblet down on the table with a resounding thud. Rising to his feet, he held out his hand to you with a gallant bow, “My lady, this celebration demands a dance with my most cherished bride. I couldn’t imagine letting this moment pass without holding you close, celebrating our union and the promised future together.” His voice was filled with tender anticipation as he gazed into your eyes.

You accept his hand, as always enamored with his wordsmith. Though many viewed Thor as boorish, simplistic, barbaric… You knew differently. He was eloquent and gentle hearted. He longed to recite prose just as much as he longed for the heat of battle. It was his intense nature, you think. Every part of Thor exuded electricity, passion.

He led you onto the dance floor, one hand clasping yours, the other gently settling on the small of your back as he began to sway to the lilting melody played by the Asgardian bardic troop. The guests parted to give the newlyweds a wide berth, smiling and cheering their joining.

Thor held you close, your body molding against his muscular frame as he guided you expertly through the dance. He whispered against your ear, “I must confess, I’ve anticipated this moment more than any other. The chance to hold you, to feel you in my arms, to start our lives together for all to see.” His hand pressed tenderly against your gown-covered hip as he spun you slowly, your skirts flaring dramatically around your legs. “You’ve captured my heart in a way no other ever could. I am yours, in this life and the next.”

In true Asgardian fashion, the reception carries late into the night, long into the early hours of the morning. Finally, belatedly, Thor whisks you away to a small castle on the border of Alfheim. It was a place you could be alone, away from prying eyes and well-meaning but relentless attentions of your friends and family. The carriage ride was a blur of nervousness and stolen kisses, of whispered words and tender caresses. The wait was over, and the realization of your new reality hit you both squarely in the chest as you were finally able to be alone, husband and wife.

Thor lifted you easily, carrying you over the threshold of the castle into the grand bedchamber. He kicked the door shut behind him and carried you to the middle of the room, where a magnificent four-poster bed awaited, draped in rich velvet and piled high with silken pillows and furs. The fireplace blazed, casting a warm, inviting glow over the intimate scene. He set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your hips, his stormy eyes roaming over your wedding gown with undisguised hunger. “You know,” he murmured, leaning down to brush a teasing kiss against your neck, “I’ve dreamt of this moment…of having you all to myself, of being able to love you without any constraints.” His fingers find the ties of your gown, slowly beginning to undo them.

“Thor,” You whisper softly, hesitation decorating your delicate features. Instinctively, your hand shoots out to grasp his wrist, halting his fingers in their quest to divest you of your dress.

Thor paused, his fingers stilling on the fourth fastening as your dainty hand clasped his wrist. He looked down at you, his blue eyes filled with concern and a hint of confusion at your sudden hesitation. He could see the conflict on your face, the way your brows furrowed slightly, and he wanted nothing more than to smooth out the lines with the pad of his thumb. “My love,” he murmured softly, his voice low and soothing, “What troubles you, my heart? You need only say the word, and I shall cease my advances at once.” He cupped your cheek gently, his calloused thumb brushing over the soft skin, a gesture meant to comfort and reassure. “I would never force myself upon you, my dear. Our first joining must be a mutual act of love and desire, one that brings us both pleasure and fulfillment.”

Gnawing on your bottom lip nervously, fingers still wrapped around his wrist, “It is just that…” You sigh, shaking your head as you cast your gaze downwards in embarrassment, “My mother spoke with me before the ceremony,” A soft blush settles on your cheeks, you find yourself becoming increasingly flustered by the direction of the conversation, “She told me what…duties… are expected of a wife on her wedding night. She told me it would hurt terribly. Is that true? Will this be painful?” Your wide, guileless eyes stare up at Thor imploringly, silently begging for reassurance.

Thor’s heart ached in his chest as he listened to your words, a wave of protectiveness and tenderness washing over him. He gentled his touch, his hand cupping your cheek more softly as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed away the nervous moisture on your lash line, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “My dearest girl,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, “It’s true that for a maiden, the first time can be uncomfortable and even painful. But I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to make this a night of pleasure and bonding, not of suffering.” His hand slid around to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your silken hair as he held you close.

“I am not a savage, my heart. I will be infinitely gentle and patient with you, taking the utmost care to bring you to peak after peak before I allow my own release.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “And should you ever feel any pain, you need only tell me to stop, and I will do so without hesitation. Your pleasure and well-being are my utmost priority.”

“Release?” You echo, brow knitting in confusion. Your mother hadn’t told you of any release, though she did inform you that this was how a woman came to be with child. You cock your head to the side, the very picture of innocence and naivety, “What release?”

Thor felt a rush of affection and a touch of amusement at your innocent query. He realized then the extent of your naivety, the fact that your mother had only prepared you for the pain and not the overwhelming, transporting pleasure that could be found in a lover’s arms. He knew it would be his privilege and responsibility to show you these secrets, to guide you through the hidden paths of sensual bliss.

He smiled softly, his hand sliding down to the base of your throat, feeling the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips. “Release,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, “is the momentous, shattering pinnacle of pleasure that a woman achieves when she surrenders completely to the sensations her lover inflicts upon her. It is the ultimate act of letting go, of losing oneself in pure, unadulterated rapture.” His fingers tightened slightly on your throat, a gesture of possession and protection. “And I will be the one to guide you to that peak, to make you scream my name in ecstasy as I claim you fully as my wife in every way imaginable. Will you let me do that, my innocent bride? Will you allow me to show you the depths of physical love?”

“A lady does not scream, Thor,” You scoff good-naturedly, smoothing down the skirts of your gown, “Especially not a princess, that is entirely inappropriate behavior.” You state primly, ever the picture of elegance and grace.

Thor let out a low, amused chuckle at your prim admonishment. He couldn’t help it- the juxtaposition of your delicate elegance and innate innocence with such a demure scolding was utterly charming to him. It was a testament to your character, a blend of pure and innocent, yet possessed of a quiet strength. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “Ah, my sweet girl, always the picture of refinement, even when faced with the most base of passions. But I assure you, when lost in the throes of lovemaking, propriety often flies out the window. Surrendering to desire, to the heat and flames of lust will have you crying out with wanton abandon. It is then that a lady becomes a goddess, her very essence laid bare and awash with rapture.” His hand slid down your back, emphasizing his point, “And I fully intend to bring you to that precipice of pleasure, to make you scream your joyous release to the heavens above. Allow me to take you there, my love.”

You consider his words, dark lashes sweeping across the apples of your cheeks. So with a soft hum, “Very well, so long as you promise it will not be too painful.” After a moment of fiddling with the lilacs braided into your hair, you speak up once more, feeling braver, “What shall I do? How are we to proceed?”

Thor felt a surge of tenderness and anticipation at your soft, trusting words. He knew that you were placing your innocence, your very self, into his keeping. And he vowed then and there to cherish that gift, to nurture and guide your sensual awakening with loving care. He brushed a tender kiss against your cheek before leaning back, his hands coming to rest on your waist, his thumbs gently kneading the fabric of your gown. “Fear not, dearest,” he murmured comfortingly, “I will be your guide and protector at every step of our journey together.” 

He rose and walked over to the fireplace, adding a log before turning back to you with a smile warmer than the fire. “First, allow me to help you out of your gown. Then, I will run you a bath in the adjoining chamber- the hot water and scented oils will serve to relax you. And while you’re bathing, I have a surprise gift for you- a bottle of Nectar of the Gods from my own private stores. A sip will leave you feeling boneless and receptive, ready to embrace all the new sensations and pleasures I have in store.”

Still smiling warmly, his eyes twinkling with promise and anticipation, Thor held out his hand, “Come, my love- let your new life begin. Give yourself over to me fully and without hesitation, and I swear you’ll find only bliss and ecstasy in my arms.”

“Very well, draw the bath, but forgo the wine please. I’d like to remember tonight,” You agree easily, pushing up to stand, smoothing your skirts down once more. You all but float over to the vanity, fussing over your hair, “Shall I leave the flowers in my hair or take them out?” You hum, mostly speaking to yourself than your new husband.

Thor smiled softly as he watched you fuss over your appearance, a picture of nervous yet excited anticipation. Your innocence and attention to detail in such a simple task touched a deep chord within him, stirring his protective instincts. He knew he would always cherish and nurture your sweet nature, even as he looked forward to showing you the heights of passion and pleasure you could reach together. He came up behind you, his large frame dwarfing your smaller one as he gazed at your reflection in the vanity mirror. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your neck beneath the curtain of your hair, his scruff lightly grazing your skin and sending delicious tingles along your spine.

“Leave them in,” he murmured against your nape, “The lilacs are as lovely as the blossoms of a goddess, and they suit you perfectly. They’ll be a sweet reminder of our wedding day and this momentous occasion.” His hands slid around your waist, pulling you back against the hard length of his body as he captured your gaze in the mirror. “And once I’ve unlaced your gown and slipped it from your shoulders, I’ll scatter a few more blossoms across your skin… and kiss each one in turn.”

You return Thor’s warm gaze, holding it in the mirror as you hum, “What oils did you put in the bath?”

The scent of something floral and earthy filled the air, a soothing and sensual blend that promised relaxation and arousal in equal measure. Thor had selected the oils himself, a special combination he had prepared just for your first night together. Leaning down, he brushed a soft kiss against your ear as his hands began to slowly unfasten the ties of your gown, “A special blend, my lady. Asgardian night blooming jasmine to stimulate the senses and ignite your passions. Aspen extract to alleviate any nervous tension and leave your skin silky and smooth, and a touch of honeydew nectar to enhance your natural beauty and scent.” His fingers deftly undid the last of the ties, and he eased the gown from your shoulders.

As the rich fabric slipped down your body and pooled at your feet, Thor’s breath caught at the sight of you clad in only your undergarments and the delicate lace of your corset. He drank in the sight of your skin, flushed and glowing in the warm light of the fireplace. “You are a vision of loveliness, my dear,” he breathed, “A goddess descending to earth.”

You preen under your husband’s praise and adoration, with a shy smile and rosy blush, “Thank you.” You breathe out, fiddling nervously with the lacy hem of your chemise.

Thor felt a surge of tenderness seeing your nervous ministrations. He could sense the delicate dance of your emotions- shy anticipation mixed with innocent trepidation. Reaching out, he gently captured your small hands in his larger, stronger ones, stilling their anxious movements. “Shh, sweetling…” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble, “There is no need for bashfulness betwixt us now. We are husband and wife, bound together in love and marriage.” He brought your hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle before turning your wrists to trail his lips along the sensitive inner skin, his tongue flicking out to taste your fleeting pulse.

“Tonight, I want you to experience only pleasure, my heart. Allow me to worship your body as the temple of love it is. Surrender to my touch, my caress…and know only bliss.” He slid his calloused thumb along your bottom lip, a teasing, intimate gesture. “Now let me help you off with this delightful little chemise and corset…”

Instinctively, you tense up, gaze flickering between Thor’s eager hands and kind face, “I…” you begin to speak, pausing as your blush darkening impossibly so, spreading down to your chest, “No one has ever seen me in such a state of undress before.”

Thor felt a rush of understanding and tenderness at your nervous hesitation. He knew that for a maiden, baring one’s body completely to another was a profound act of vulnerability and trust. And despite your innocent upbringing, he understood intrinsically the significance of the gift you were about to bestow upon him. He cupped your face tenderly in his large, gentle hands, his thumbs brushing over the delicate apple of your cheeks as he gazed deeply into your eyes. “Sweetheart, I comprehend your nervousness and I honor the trust you place in me,” he murmured softly, “For a lady as pure as you, unveiling herself to her new husband’s eyes and touch is a testament to the depths of love and commitment you hold for him.”

His gaze remained locked with yours, his voice low and resonant with sincerity, “I swear on my honor as an Asgardian prince and your devoted husband, I will cherish this gift of intimacy you grant me. I will worship and adore every inch of your skin with loving, reverent touches… and I will never do anything to hurt or frighten you.” He brushed a particularly tender kiss across your trembling lips, “Will you allow me the privilege of undressing you fully, sweet wife? So I may marvel at the beauty of you, and our love may fully bloom in the heat of our joining?”

With a soft hum, you nod once, granting him your consent.

Your trust and willingness to bare yourself to him humbled and touched Thor deeply. He knew it was a sacred act of love and submission, and he vowed to honor it always. With a gentle hand and reverent heart, he slowly peeled away the stiff boning of your corset and the delicate linen of your chemise, easing it down your slender shoulders before letting it slip from your body to pool at your feet. And as the last of your garments fell away, Thor drew in a shuddering breath, awestruck by your naked beauty. He drank in the sight of your skin, silken and lush in the golden light of the fireplace. His gaze traced the elegant lines of your body, from the graceful column of your throat, over the delicate curves of your breasts, down to the soft, womanly swell of your hips and thighs. He marveled at the way the flickering flames seemed to dance across your skin, painting you in a warm, intimate glow.

“Magnificent…” he whispered, his voice thick with admiration and coveting. Leaning in, he pressed a trail of reverent kisses across your collarbone before murmuring against your skin, “A goddess in human form, yours is a beauty of which song and legend will forever sing.”

Thor’s praise earns a shy smile from you, your nervousness fading away in the sunshine of his open adoration. Feeling emboldened, you reach out to trace the intricate patterns adorning Thor’s ceremonial armor, “Will you be joining me in the bath?’ You ask coyly, tilting your head to the side.

Thor silently admired the width of your hips, a part of you that promised to bear his children, to keep his legacy alive. He imagined the radiant glow of your skin, rounded and full with the life of his seed growing within you. The thought sent a bolt of lust straight to his loins, his manhood already hard and aching within his breeches. He captured your wandering hand, bringing it to his lips to press a fervent kiss to your palm. His tongue teased over your lifeline, tracing the path he imagined his own pleasure would take as he claimed you fully. “Indeed, my love. I could not resist the chance to join you, to bathe you, to worship your glorious body as you immerse us both in the warm, scented waters.” His voice was a low, intimate rumble, thick with promise and anticipation.

In a fluid motion, he shrugged off his own robes and began to divest himself of his armor, each piece falling away to reveal the honed, muscular form beneath. The firelight played across his skin, accentuating the defined planes and curves of a warrior’s physique. He watched your face intently as he unbuckled his sword belt and let it clatter to the floor, noting the widening of your eyes and the delicate flush coloring your cheeks at the sight of his near-nudity. Once he stood bare before you, save for his breeches, he pulled you into his arms, crushing you against the hard length of his body. He could feel the heat of your skin, the way your breasts pressed against his chest, the softness of your belly and the gentle swell of your hips. Capturing your mouth in a searing kiss, he swept you up into his arms and carried you towards the bath, ready to begin your sensual journey together.

You gasp into the kiss, surprised by the sudden intensity of Thor’s attention. The kisses Thor bestowed upon you during your ceremony and reception were chaste, what was deemed appropriate in the audience of hundreds of Asgardians. Your eyes flutter shut in bliss, melting into the overwhelming heat of the kiss.Thor could sense your innocence, your inexperience with such passionate, unbridled affection. And yet, he could also feel the way your soft curves melted against him, your ample breasts pillowing against his muscular chest, your shapely hips fitting so perfectly against his own. It fueled his desire, stoked the flames of his lust to new heights.

Cradling you closer, one large hand splayed across the small of your back, savoring the delicate curve, as the other tangled in the silken fall of your hair. He deepened the kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to claim the warm cavern of your mouth, to dance and duel with the sweet recesses of your own tongue. He drank in the taste of you, sweet and heady, a flavor more intoxicating than the finest Asgardian mead. Each slide and glide of his lips against yours, each teasing flick of his tongue, sent bolts of electricity zinging down your spine to settle in your loins.

By the time he carried you into the bathing chamber, your breath was coming in soft, panting gasps. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and aspen, the steam from the bath curling sensuously around your naked bodies. Thor set you down on your feet, his large hands squeezing your waist before sliding around to cup the globes of your ass, lifting you subtly as he claimed your mouth once more in a fierce, hungry kiss. He could feel his cock throbbing urgently against your belly, hard and ready and aching for you, as his hands kneaded the pliant flesh of your rear.

When he finally broke the kiss, his voice was a low, rough growl against your ear, “I want to feel your soft, naked body slide against mine as we immerse ourselves in the hot, scented water. I want to bathe every inch of your nubile form, to caress and massage you until you’re boneless with pleasure. And then, sweet girl, I want to lay you out on our marriage bed and worship you with my hands and mouth and cock until you’re irrevocably mine.” He nipped at your bottom lip, his eyes shining with the force of his desire. “Will you allow me this pleasure, my goddess? Will you let me bathe you, pleasure you, as your devoted husband?”

Your response comes easily, quickly becoming second nature, “Of course,” you all but breathe out, smiling adoringly up at your new husband.Thor assisted you into the steaming bath, his hands caressing your skin reverently as he helped you settle into the warm, fragrant water. The heat seeped into your muscles, easing any lingering tension as the heady scent of jasmine and honeydew enveloped you. He climbed in after, the water sloshing gently around your bodies as he settled himself behind you, his strong legs straddling either side of the large, circular tub.

He pulled you back against his chest, your head coming to rest just beneath his chin, your hair fanning out across the water. His arms came around you, one hand splaying across your lower belly possessively while the other cupped the soft weight of your breast, kneading the pliant flesh. He could feel your heart beating against his palms, a steady, tempting rhythm that matched the pounding of his own. His lips trailed along your shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your damp skin as his hands began to explore your body with sensual intent. He massaged the globes of your breasts, rolling and plucking at your nipples until they peaked into hard little buds against his palms. His fingers slipped lower, skimming across your ribcage and dipping into your navel before settling on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, brushing maddeningly close to your most private place.

Pleasure sparked through your nerve endings with each touch, each caress, until you were squirming against him, breathless and aching with a need you couldn’t quite define. His hard, hot body pressed against your back, the thick length of his cock nestled in the cleft of your ass, letting you feel exactly what you did to him. One hand drifted higher, his fingers sliding through the slick, bare folds of your sex with a teasing, playfully light touch, not quite penetrating you, but stroking and petting until you were panting and arching into his touch with shameless abandon. “Tell me what you need, sweet wife,” he purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble against your ear, “Guide me in pleasuring you as no other man ever has. I want to make this a night of sensual delights you’ll never forget.”

A soft, unbidden whine rips from your throat, melting even further back against his chest, “Thor,” you breathe out sweet and slow, your thighs parting wider in invitation. A heavy, burning blush settles on your cheeks, biting your lower lip against new pleasures you’ve yet to experience.

Thor groaned softly, your sweet breathless whimper music to his ears. He could feel the way your body responded to his touch, your thighs parting instinctively to grant him greater access to your most intimate places. The evidence of your arousal only inflamed his own, his cock throbbing and pulsing against the soft curve of your ass. He rolled his hips, grinding his thick length against you in a slow, sensual rhythm that mirrored the ancient dance of passion as old as time itself.

“Aye, sweetness… let yourself feel the pleasure, let it consume you,” he murmured, his voice a deep, seductive purr against your ear. His hand drifted even higher, his fingers slipping between the slick folds of your sex to tease along the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He circled and flicked and stroked, his touch light yet purposeful as he drank in each tremor and shiver he drew from your lush body. “That’s it, my goddess… I can feel how much you need this, how desperately your body craves my touch. I will give you the pleasure you’ve yearned for, the ecstasy you never knew you could feel.”

His finger delved deeper, a long, thick finger pressing slowly into the clutching heat of your cunt. He groaned at the feel of your silken walls fluttering around the invading digit, your untried body welcoming him with eager, grasping intensity. His thumb continued to circle your clit, stroking and teasing in time with the slow, sensual undulations of his hips. “Tell me, my dearest… have you pleasured yourself in the night, your slender fingers delving into this sweet cunt, seeking to ease the ache of your desire?” His voice was a dark, intimate rumble in your ear as he pumped his finger slowly in and out of your dripping sex. “Or have you been utterly untouched, this your first true experience of intimate caress? I can feel the way your little quim clings so tightly, as if it feared I will slip away before sating this fire we’ve kindled.”

The prim, delicate nature of your upbringing shies away at the vulgarity of Thor’s question, your blush darkening impossibly so. Mustering up your courage, you shake your head once in denial, “No,” you murmur slowly, “I’ve never…touched myself before. It’s not proper for a lady to do so.” 

A dark chuckle rumbled through Thor's chest as he felt your maidenly blush and bashfulness at his salacious question. He could sense the prim, innocent nature of your upbringing, and the way it made you shy away from such explicit discussions and acts. And yet, he could also feel the way your body responded with a will of its own, your untouched sex clenching and fluttering around his invading finger as if begging for more.

Thor smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his beard rasping lightly against your sensitive skin. "Ah, sweet wife, propriety has no place betwixt a husband and wife on their wedding night," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "In the halls of love and marriage, there is no act too intimate, no word too bold. I will teach you the secrets of bodily bliss, the erotic delights your innocent heart has never dreamt of."

To punctuate his words, he slipped a second finger into your tight, dripping channel, pumping them slowly as he rubbed the heel of his palm against your sensitive clit. His other hand slid up to cup the weight of your breast, kneading the soft globe and plucking at the pebbled peak until it strained against his fingers. "You are mine now, my goddess, my wife... and I intend to claim every inch of you in the most carnal and intimate ways imaginable." He nipped at your throat before soothing the sting with a long, open-mouthed kiss. His fingers slid from your sex to grip your hip, pulling you more firmly against the thick ridge of his erection as it throbbed against the cleft of your ass.

"Tonight, I will introduce you to the sweet sin of lust, my love. I will make you scream in rapture and beg for my cock as I fill you again and again until your belly swells with the evidence of our coupling." His voice dropped to a husky murmur as he ground his hips more insistently against yours. "Now, spread your thighs wider for me, sweetness... let me feel the heat of your untouched sex as I prepare you to receive my manhood."

You tense up, confusion flooding your system once more, “Your manhood?” you echo, brow furrowing, though you still follow your husband’s instructions. You spread your legs as wide as the tub will allow, a pleasant ache in your muscles beginning to add to the dozens of new sensations flooding your senses.

He could sense your naivety, your lack of experience with the intimate details of coupling. It both endeared and aroused him, knowing that he would be your first and only lover. His hand drifted down to your inner thigh, gripping it gently as he guided your leg to drape over his, spreading your legs wider to expose your most private place to his hungry gaze and exploratory touch.

"Your quim is my manhood's haven, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl as he drank in the sight of your glistening, swollen folds. "A man's manhood, or cock, is the virile member that brings a woman pleasure and fills her with his seed to quicken a child within her womb." To illustrate his words, he took your small hand in his large one, guiding it to the thick, rigid length of his erection as it jutted from his body. He could feel it throb and pulse against your fingers, the skin hot and silky and hard as steel beneath your touch.

His other hand never ceased its sensual assault on your sex, his fingers pumping slowly in and out of your dripping channel as his thumb circled and teased your sensitive pearl. He could feel your innocence beginning to give way to instinct, your hips starting to undulate almost imperceptibly against his touch as he stoked the fires of your pleasure.

"In a moment, I will lay you upon our marriage bed and spread your thighs wide with my strong hands. Then, I will nestle between your legs, my cock mere inches from your sweet sex. And there, I make love to you, fill your belly with my seed... and you will scream my name like a prayer to the gods." His voice was a dark, lust-drunk rasp against your ear, his words painting a vivid picture of the erotic delights to come.

Bath water sloshes in the tub, you gasp as Thor places your hand on his thick cock. Your hand can’t even wrap fully around it, “Thor,” you say hesitantly, “Where is that supposed to go? It’s so…big.” You blink up at him, flushed skin glistening from the bath and slick, “It’s not going where your fingers are, is it? It won’t fit!”

Thor's only response to your hesitation was to trail his fingers up from your dripping sex to firmly grip the underside of your knee, urging your leg to drape itself fully over his hip. The new position left you open to him completely, your glistening pink folds naked to his heated gaze as he gazed down at where you were joined. "Oh, sweet innocence," he groaned, his thumb rubbing firm circles over your sensitive pearl as two fingers pumped slowly into your slick canal. "A man's cock is made to fit inside a woman's sex, to fill her utterly until there is no space left unclaimed. It is a tight, perfect union... the ultimate act of oneness between two lovers."

He guided your hand to stroke down the thick column of his shaft, groaning as you explored the shape and heft of him. His cock was flushed a deep, angry red, the bulbous head an almost purple hue as it wept with need. "Don't fret, my goddess," he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble despite the searing, desperate lust in his eyes. "I know your untouched sex seems too small, too tight to contain me. But trust in my experience and your body's ability to stretch and accommodate me."

Thor's voice deepened, thickened with raw hunger. "As I slide into you, you will feel a stretch, a pressure unlike any you've known. There may be a moment of pain as your hymen yields to the conquering force of my manhood. But that pain will fade swiftly as your lush body adapts to be filled utterly for the very first time."

He captured your chin in his calloused hand, tilting your head back to meet his burning gaze as he ground his rigid length against your dripping sex in a slow, sensual rut. "You will feel every thick, pulsing inch of me as I claim your virgin depths. And as I begin to move within you, your inner muscles will flutter and clench around my plundering cock as if to hold me deep inside you... begging me to flood your womb with my hot, virile seed."

A heady mixture of fear and arousal flood your mind at Thor’s assurances and explanation. “I already feel so full, Thor,” you whine, pussy slick and tight around his two fingers, the warm bath water aiding his cause, “There is no way I can take anymore than this…inside me.”

Thor gentled his touch, his fingers slowing their thrusts to a languid, sensual glide as he felt your slick inner muscles clench and flutter around the intrusion. He could feel your trepidation, sense your concern that his thick, pulsing manhood would never fit within your tight, untried sex. Gently, he stroked your cheek with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he gazed at you with a mix of tenderness and barely restrained lust.

"Hush, sweetness... trust in me and in the way your divine body was made to receive mine." His voice was a low, soothing rumble, his breath hot against your cheek. "Your sex may feel taut and stretched around my fingers, but it will yield and open further to welcome the slick glide of my manhood. The warmth of my flesh will meld with the intimate heat of your core as I fill you utterly."

Thor's fingers curled inside you, pressing against a special spot that made you gasp and shudder against him. "There, feel that... your body knows its purpose, even if your mind does not. This sensitive patch of flesh, when caressed just so, will send jolts of pleasure through your veins with each thrust of my hips, each deep stroke of my cock as it claims you."

He leaned in closer, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours as his fingers slid from your dripping sex. Still gripping your knee, he notched the thick head of his erection against your slick folds, bumping against your entrance without penetrating you. The textured surface of his cock pulsed and jerked against your sensitive flesh, leaving no doubt as to the size and shape of the manhood that awaited you.

"Breathe, my goddess... breathe and relax, and feel me begin to enter you." Thor murmured the words against your lips before capturing them in a searing, ravenous kiss. At the same time, he rolled his hips forward, the broad tip of his manhood beginning to push past your entrance as he slowly, inexorably breached your untouched sex.

The pressure is agonizing, your body tensing in protest, almost as if it's trying to barricade Thor from entering you any further. You inhale sharply, not daring to breathe, screwing your eyes shut at the sudden intense fullness of his cock breaching your virgin pussy. A tiny, pitiful whine rips from your throat, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

Thor gentled his grip on you, one large hand stroking down your flank soothingly as he felt your body tensing in a mix of fear and anticipation. "Shhh... breathe, my love," he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling purr against your ear. He could feel you trembling against him, could sense the way your untouched sex clenched and fluttered nervously around the thick head of his cock as it began to breach you.

He rolled his hips slowly, determinedly, gradually sinking more of his throbbing length into the tight, clutching heat of your virgin passage. He groaned at the exquisite sensation, his eyes fluttering shut in bliss as your untried walls squeezed and rippled around him. "You feel exquisite, sweetness... so impossibly tight and hot and perfect around my aching manhood," he rasped, his breath coming harsher as he struggled to maintain control.

Thor's hand drifted down to your hip, gripping it firmly as he rolled into you with a steady, inexorable pressure. He could feel your hymen stretched taut around the girth of his cock, your untouched sex protesting the sudden intrusion even as it yielded to the inevitable force of his possession. With a sharp, stinging pinch, your virginity surrendered to the relentless thrust of his hips, a trickle of blood rolling down the length of his cock. Pausing for a moment, he murmured soothing words into your ear as he gave you a brief respite to adjust to the feel of him filling you so utterly. "The pain will pass swiftly, my goddess... and in its place will bloom pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Trust in your body's ability to accept your husband, to welcome the deep penetration of a lover's cock as it claims you utterly."

Thor's voice deepened, roughened with lust and desire as he rolled his hips slowly, burying another thick inch of his shaft into your tight, grasping sex. "You are barely halfway taken, my love... but already you feel like heaven wrapped around me, your untouched walls squeezing me so sweetly as if begging for more. I will give you more, will fill you again and again until my seed takes root within your fertile womb..."

You gasp for air, eyes flying open wide as Thor ruptures your hymen. Hands fly to grip the edge of the bathtub, knuckles white. A soft whimper falls from your lips as you try desperately to will your body to relax around his invading manhood, “Barely half way?” you gasp out, “You’re going to kill me, Thor.”

Thor chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling through his broad chest as he felt you tense and gasp beneath him. He could sense your disbelief, your shock at the sheer size and thickness of his manhood as it stretched your untouched sex beyond what you thought possible. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a searing, dominating kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim your mouth as thoroughly as his cock was claiming your virgin passage.

He rolled his hips again, pushing another thick inch of his shaft into your grasping sex, the lewd squelch of your juices and the creak of the tub the only sounds in the steamy room. "Fear not, sweetness... you are far too delectable a morsel to die now," he murmured against your lips, his voice a sinful caress. "I will not let you perish, no... I will make certain that you live through the most exquisite pleasure a woman can know. I will bring you to the heights of ecstasy again and again until you are drunk on the feel of my cock splitting you open on every plunge."

Punctuating his dark promise, Thor rolled his hips faster, sinking more of his thick length into your dripping sex with each sensual undulation. He could feel your inner muscles fluttering and clinging to his invading shaft, as if desperate to hold him deep within your core.

"You take me so well, my goddess... your divine sex stretches around my cock as if it was made to be claimed by me and me alone," he groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his climax. He was so close to the edge, the sensation of your untouched body gripping him like a silken vise threatening to undo him before he could bring you to your first peak.

His hand drifted between your thighs, his fingers seeking out the sensitive bud of your clit. He rubbed the swollen nub in tight, quick circles, teasing out your arousal as he rolled his hips steady and sure. "Come undone for me, sweetness... let me feel your maidenly sex spasm around my cock as I bring you to your very first release. Drench my shaft in your slick as I make you mine for all eternity..."

Finally, the discomfort and the stretch melts away into the most full, intense pleasure you’ve ever known. A low, breathy moan falls from your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, head lolling back as your cheeks flush, breasts heaving with each breath. You spread your legs impossibly wider, offering more of your slippery cunt to Thor.

Thor groaned deeply as he felt your molten inner walls begin to yield, the exquisite pleasure of your silken heat enveloping his plundering cock. He could sense the shift in your body's reaction, the tension giving way to a desperate, aching need. The knowledge that he was the cause of such rapture, that he was the one to bring you to the precipice of your very first climax, sent a dark surge of pride and hunger crashing through him.

The tremors of impending release rippling through your lush curves spurred Thor into a frenzy of lust. He needed to make you his, to claim each inch of your nubile flesh, to mark you indelibly as his woman. The tight confines of the tub no longer satisfied him - he required a grander arena to cement your union, a bed that would bear witness to his conquering and your surrender.

"That maidenly blush blossoming on such fair cheeks will haunt my mind for all eternity," he muttered, draping you over his muscular arm and rising from the tub in a spray of water and steam. Your lithe body leeched against his sodden skin as he strode swiftly but tenderly towards your marriage bed, his every step jostling his cock and drawing gasps and whimpers from your lips. Thor's hands mapped the sweet curves and valleys of your body with ravenous touch - the ripe, peach-perfect globes of your ass, the slender line of your back, the ripe fullness of your breasts.

"Sweet, succulent girl," he breathed, his voice a rumble of dark promise and hungering need as he deposited you on the center of the expansive bed. "Spread your legs for me, my goddess... open them wide and offer yourself to me, my wife."

He crawled over you, his weight settled between your thighs as he nudged them even wider apart with his knees. The thick length of his shaft, slick with your juices, emerged from his groin and slapped lewdly against your dripping sex. "I will take you to new heights, sweetness... plunge you into rapturous ecstasy as I fill the deepest recesses of your womanhood with my throbbing, virile flesh."

Your legs fall open easily, pussy gaping open in the absence of Thor’s cock. He drank in the erotic sight of your glistening sex, the swollen, flushed folds blossoming open to receive him. Your body's betraying readiness fueled the inferno of lust that consumed him, the hunger to claim you, to possess you utterly as was his right and duty as your husband. Gripping your hips firmly, he notched the broad, dripping crown of his cock against your entrance, the flared head kissing your cunt and making you writhe with need.

He gazed down at you, his sky-blue eyes blazing with a mix of tenderness and wild hunger. He saw the ripe, succulent woman beneath him, offered up to him as he had long dreamed of. In that moment, he knew he would never want another, would never crave a body or touch save yours. "You are a rare beauty, wife," he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "A perfect feast laid out for your hungry, loving husband to devour."

Thor rolled his hips with a powerful flex of thick muscle, his shaft sinking into you with a deep, imperious thrust. He groaned at the exquisite sensation, pleasure exploding like starlight behind his eyelids as your scorching silk enveloped him, squeezing him like a glove. Thrust after relentless thrust carried him deeper into your body, stretching you in a dance of erotic bliss around his plundering cock. Thor could feel the stirring flutter of your climax building in the clutching heat of your sex, your untouched walls beginning to ripple around his invading length. He saw your head thrash against the pillow beneath you, heard your breathy mewls and gasps, the stuttering pulse of your blood beneath his stroking fingers.

"Yes, my goddess," he rumbled, his breath hot against your throat. "Let it come, my love... I can feel your pleasure building, your sex tightening around me like a heavenly vise. You are exquisite, sweetness... and all mine."

Thor pistoned his hips faster now, drunk on the feel of your hot, slick flesh gripping him so urgently, so needful. One hand drifted up to palm your breast, tweaking the rosy, distended peak as he rolled over you. "Come for me, my divine wife," he commanded, his voice a husky rasp of lust. "Scream my name and surrender yourself to the pleasure only I can give you."

You moan in response, bringing a shaky hand to rest over your lower belly, “I can feel you, so deeply inside me,” you sigh out, tilting your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, slick drooling out of your stretched hole and around his dick. “I don’t know where you start and I end. Perhaps this is how it was always meant to be. No me, no you, we are one.:

Thor groaned in bliss as he felt your molten sheath grip him like a velvet vise, clinging to his pistoning shaft with desperate, mewling cries. The slick gush of your arousal painting his cock and balls spurred him to greater fervor, his hips gently rocking against yours with the force of a thunderous tide. He could feel your womb, ripe and ready, nestled snug against the tip of his manhood as he plunged ever deeper into your sweet depths.

"Yes, feel me, my goddess," Thor hissed through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into the giving flesh of your hip as he guided you lovingly against him. "Feel the thick, throbbing heat of your husband's cock as it claims your untouched core. Surrender to the pleasure of being filled and stretched and taken for the first time."

He dipped his head to capture your lips in a sweet, sloppy kiss as he rolled his hips in deep, sensual circles. His tongue delved into your mouth, mimicking the thrust of his member, laying claim to your every secret, hidden place. He swallowed your cries of rapture with his own groans of lust, the sounds of your coupling echoing obscenely in the grand chamber. The pressure building in your core wound tighter and tighter as Thor undulated sensually into your sex. He could feel your pleasure cresting, threatening to wash over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Sensing the impending cataclysm, he redoubled his efforts, plunging into your grasping sheath with a power that shook the very bed beneath you.

"That's it, sweet girl," Thor panted harshly against your skin, his sweat-slicked body slithering deliciously against yours. "I can feel your quim fluttering around me, your virginal body trembling on the precipice of rapture. Give in to it, my love... Surrender yourself to the bliss only I can give you."

He crushed his mouth to yours once more in a searing kiss as he hilted his hips forward one last, ultimate time. With a roar of triumph and ecstasy, Thor felt your sex spasm around his plunging member, your walls rippling wildly as your climax exploded through you. The rhythmic clench and shudder of your sex milked his shaft as he erupted deep inside your core, flooding your fertile womb with the boiling surge of his seed.

You gasp into Thor’s mouth, a needy, whiny moan following it as you experience the mind-numbing bliss of your first orgasm. Your eyes roll back, spine arching clean off the bed. A gush of slick floods Thor’s dick, your body trembling mindlessly beneath his.

The intense clenching and release of your climax was milking his cock with a rhythm that stole his breath. He could feel the pulse of your orgasm in your flesh, the shuddering of your limbs under his body. He swallowed your moan with his own as he relished the sensation of his seed pouring into your womb within waves, his manhood spilling rope after rope of thick creamy cum inside of your womanhood.

He could feel your heart pounding against his chest, and every shudder of your body, he savored it. He pulled his mouth away from yours as his hips continued to grind against you. His breathing was heavy and ragged, his voice a rumble of dark satisfaction as he slid his hands under the small of your back, arching you into him. "My wife, so tender and so sweet, your first climax is mine to take," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, watching your every expression. Thor's hips continued to roll and move his cock inside of your, still hard. He ground his pelvis against your clit, drawing out your orgasm with a skill that was honed by the many centuries of his existence. He could sense another climax building, deeper and more intense than the last. He could feel your sex fluttering around him, milking him with desperate, hungry pulses.

Thor let his hand rove over your body, caressing your nipples as his body forced more pleasure from you. He leaned down to kiss your neck, feeling your pulse against his lips, feeling it fluttering and racing. He slipped his fingers between your thighs, feeling the way his cock was nestled within your sex, finding a rhythm with his thrusts and his circling fingers. Thor did not ask your permission to continue, rather he simply decided that he wanted to continue.

"Two for two my love," he murmured softly, his voice a husky growl against your skin. "Feel it, darling girl... feel my cock feeding you my thick, hot seed as I make you cum again and again for me."

Now, his hips finally began to move in earnest. Every thrust powerful, precise, and devastating. His gaze did not leave yours as he consumed your body. Thor reveled in the sensation of your sex, slick and throbbing as his hips rolled forward into you, his cock driving in deep then pulling out only to thrust in deeper still. His thrusts came faster and harder, relentlessly driving your pleasure higher and higher as you have never known. Your body trembled beneath him, your eyes wide with shock and pleasure as another orgasm crashed over you. Thor growled in satisfaction as he felt your sex clamp down on his cock, milking him with desperate, hungry pulses. This one even more powerful than the last.

Thor felt his own climax building, the pressure in his loins intense. With a low groan he buried his cock to the hilt inside your body as he exploded once more, flooding your womb with another thick, sticky stream of seed. His hips moved in short, sharp thrusts as he ground his pelvis against your clit and forced through the climax until the end. He lay there panting for a moment, his body slick with sweat as his heart pounded against his chest. Thor had never felt so completely sated, so utterly fulfilled.

You take a moment to catch your breath, finding your bearings in the wake of two intense orgasms. Your eyes, glazed over and fucked-out flick over to Thor’s form. You brush aside a few damp locks of hair that are plastered to your forehead, “That is how one makes babies?” You ask in a breathless, wrecked voice. Your vocal cords feel rubbed raw, you’re sure you’ve given the servants a show to discuss later.

Thor was still nestled snugly inside your warm body, his softening cock resting within your well-used sex. As the waves of release ebbed away, he assisted you in brushing the damp hair from your forehead, tucking them gently behind your ear. His thumb trailed over your flushed cheek, relishing the tender afterglow reflected in your glazed eyes.

"Aye, sweetness," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing rumble. "That is how a man and woman unite to create a new life. And you were exquisite in your first coupling."

Thor leaned in closer, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss filled with adoration and contentment. His hand drifted down to rest on your belly, splayed over the spot where he had spilled his seed deep inside you. A spark of possessiveness stirred within him at the thought of his essence quickening inside your fertile womb. "And that is only the beginning, my goddess," he breathed against your lips. "I intend to spend the rest of our lives showing you the myriad pleasure that exists between a husband and wife."

As he spoke, he rolled you onto your side, spooning you from behind. His hand drifted over the ripe curve of your hip and ass, pausing to squeeze the flesh and fat that had brought him such rapture. His softening cock slipped free of your body with a lewd sound, a trickle of your combined juices leaking out to stain the bed sheets below you

With a breathless giggle, you declare “We are going to have dozens of children then.”

Thor laughed, a low, contented sound that rumbled through his chest and vibrated against your back. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply your scent, a heady mix of something floral and the musk of your lovemaking. His arms tightened around you, one hand splayed possessively over your belly, the other cupping your breast, his fingers toying gently with your sensitive nipple.

"Dozens, my love?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble of amusement. "I should hope so. I intend to ensure that our line is strong and numerous, a testament to our love and passion."

He paused, his hand drifting lower, tracing the curve of your hip and the swell of your ass. His fingers dipped between your thighs, gathering the slick mixture of your arousal and his seed that leaked from your well-used sex. He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a low groan of satisfaction.

"Mmm, the taste of our union," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I could feast on you for eternity and never grow tired of your sweetness."

Thor's hand returned to your sex, his fingers tracing the swollen, sensitive folds with a gentle, teasing touch. He could feel the heat of your body, the way your sex clenched and fluttered at his touch, and he knew that you were far from sated.

"Besides," he continued, his voice a low growl in your ear. "I have a great deal of time to make up for. All those years I spent pining for you, dreaming of the day I could finally make you mine."

His fingers dipped inside you, coating them in the thick mixture of your arousal and his seed. He brought them to your clit, circling the sensitive nub with a slow, deliberate touch. He could feel your body responding to him, your breath hitching in your throat as a soft moan escaped your lips.

"Now that I have you, my goddess," he murmured, his voice a low rumble of possessiveness. "I intend to spend every waking moment ensuring that you are well and truly mine.”