2000’s Kid

A large part of him wanted to shake her. He wanted to break down in front of her and make her understand that when she risked her life, she risked his. He would not survive another loss. 

Oblivious to his anger, she headed to their tent, stepping away from him and the charred remains of the enemy. After going nuclear, a dull purple glow still emanated from her skin. The swell of her power continued to stick to the air along with the stench of burnt meat. There was the aftertaste of ripe fruit and soil, the subtle tang of energy like he’d zapped the wind with his own lightning. 

His gut twisted.

You know every time it costs you. Every time could be the time you don’t come back from it.

Thor suddenly realized he was following her, his boots moving before he could even process what he was doing. The words were tumbling out of his mouth.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

She didn’t stop. The Guardians and the remnants of their army were parting around her, mystified. 

“They had you on the ropes,” she shot casually over her shoulder. There was smoke in her hair, along her arms, slowly dissipating with the planet’s warm breeze. He could smell lotus blossoms and the salty stir of the sea that sparkled in the distance. He’d taken her on that blue-sand beach not even a day ago. He’d been inside her as she clutched at him, thighs curled around his waist with his name spilling from her lips. Alive. Heart-beating. Lungs expanding. He stilled as icy realization smothered him, snatching his breath. She could have died today for something ridiculous. She had been alive, and then she could have been snuffed out. Taken as Loki had been with a skittering crack of bone. Frigga. Heimdall. The Warriors Three. 

As Thor watched her saunter to the tent, anger flooded his veins. His previous fear was now thoroughly painted over with indignation. He roared her name, and she stilled, whirling around to gape at him. The mass around them went silent. 

“They didn’t have me on the fucking ropes, darling,” he hissed in a tight voice as he began to advance on her. Mantis jerked out of the way while Nebula rolled her eyes. Rocket, Groot, and Drax hovered closer, curious. 

“Now, Thor,” Quill said, trying to intercept him, but Thor knocked him out of the way. Not hard enough to damage him, but hard enough to make him stumble. He pinned Peter with a warning look, and the man threw his hands up. 

Thor marched forward with purpose. His eyes locked on her face, and to his slight amusement, it appeared uncertain. Good. The thing about Thor was that he would tolerate bad behavior from her up to a point. He would until it actually struck that nerve that he could not ignore. It almost always came down to her being reckless with her life.

“I think you’re overreact-”

“Shut up,” he growled, his hands clamping down on her shoulders. He pressed closer until they were nose to nose. “Don’t you dare fight me on this. How many times do I have to remind you that using your powers like that can make you lose control? Kill you?”

Though he tried to fight it, his voice softened. His thumb brushed firmly into the meat of her arm, and her eyes slanted up to meet his. Her lips twitched, and he knew that she had caught him. She could work with affection. 

“We won, Odinson,” She tipped her chin, lashes fluttering as she stared up at him with tenderness. “I saw you go down. I just reacted.”.

That wasn’t true. He wasn’t down. He’d gotten hit, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. She was trying to gain his sympathy. She had wanted the battle to be done, so she had taken the easy way out. 

“No,” he replied flatly. “You knew I would be fine. You just wanted to finish it.”

“I didn’t die-”

“That’s not the damn point.”

“Thor,” She glanced at the group surrounding them, frowning. “You need to calm down. You’ve certainly pulled some dangerous moves in a fight.” She drew away from him. Her expression was completely nonplussed, which made him more furious.

He pointed his finger at her. “You-” “-are going to take a nap!” She cut him off, turning around, and waving her hand in his direction dismissively. She was deliberately taunting him as he watched her stroll back to their tent. Their friends stared at him from the sidelines - amused. Mantis was muffling a laugh while Nebula shook her head. 

They didn’t get it. No one was taking him seriously. They didn’t understand what could happen if she really lost it…her magic controlled her, not the other way around.

“I could go speak to her,” Quill offered as he stuffed his gun back into its holster. “Give her -“

Thor silenced him with a death glare. No. He was going to deal with this. He wasn’t going to use kindness either. She took advantage of that in order to make him forget. Oh Thor, my love, you’re being ridiculous. I’m fine. I’m safe. I love you. Come here, my king. 

None of that. 

He was going to channel his frustration into her and teach her a lesson - wreck her until she listened and understood.

He growled, roughly scraping a hand over his face before silently storming after his wife.

***

She’d fucked up. She knew it. She knew it the second that she had done it.

It was partially true. She had gotten nervous at Thor getting bested. She’d felt her energy coursing through her veins, and it had just taken over. She’d erupted - devastating the other side and finishing the job. 

He did have a point. It, technically, hadn’t been necessary. She could have waited it out, and they would have inevitably won. 

The look on Thor’s face, though.

She grimaced, massaging her temples as her head began to pulse. She’d used up a lot.

He had been horrified, and she couldn’t bear it. She knew that she was being ridiculous and awful and -

“We need to talk,” Thor announced as he strode into the room. He shoved Stormbreaker’s base into the soil, so it stood straight, his eyes never leaving her. 

She placed her hands on her hips. “Look - I know that was-”

“Be quiet,” he snapped, and she abruptly shut her mouth. Stunned. “You are a petulant brat, and it truly mystifies me. I warn you time and time again about you using your powers, and you never listen.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting nervously under the brutal shadow of his scowl. He really was pissed. 

Thor’s face shuttered to something lethal. He slowly cocked his head, his eyes darkening to the blue-black depth of the sea. She cleared her throat.

“I’m done,” he stated as he took a step toward her. She remained rooted to the spot. “I’m done with your fucking inability to listen to me.” He was on her, his chest plate at her nose. “I should bend you over my knee,”

She jerked - core tensing at the thought. Reflexively, her thighs rubbed together, and her breath caught. Bastard. Thor’s nostrils flared, and then he cracked a smug grin.

It made him blindingly handsome. It made him difficult to stare at.

“You know I can smell you, woman,” he declared in a low voice. His fingers skated across the hem of her leather skirts. She blinked up at him like she didn’t know what he was talking about when both of them knew that she absolutely did. He knew her like he knew the details of his own hand. It was strange to be seen by him, essentially laid out by this man she loved more than life itself. He had her between his fingers - pulling her in separate directions. Let me see where it hurts. Let me fix you. 

“Are you wet for your king?” he murmured, and her eyes widened. “Do you like it when I yell at you?”

Yes.

No.

Yes.

She swallowed, her hands curling into fists. Her heart was thumping in her throat, climbing up up up until it settled at the center of his head. Her vision was going red and toppling down because all she could see was Thor. His broad shoulders and the fur clinging to his cape. The carmine fabric of the tent was shuddering in the wind. The world outside was howling. 

“You’re a terrible subject,” he sighed, and his breath brushed her forehead. He was inches from her, but he didn’t touch her. Not yet. “Volatile. Stubborn.” His eyes narrowed. “A fucking child.” She bit the inside of her cheek, her stupid inner voice refusing to apologize. “Beautiful and dreadful at once.” He lowered his face so that his lips dragged against her ear before he nipped it. She lurched, catching at the furs in his collar to hold onto something. “A fucking thorn in my side,” he whispered as his arm crept around her waist. “But still mine, nonetheless.”

“Thor - I-”

“I’m going to fuck you,” he snarled as he hauled her to him, tilting her chin up so that she was forced under the full heft of his gaze. The air burned. It tasted like she’d pressed her tongue to an electrical current. “I’m going to make sure you feel my cock for days. I’m going to open you up on it until you remember how to be a good little queen.”

***

Not five minutes later, he was inside her. Her armor had been tossed somewhere, and his leather trousers were bunched around his knees as he buried his cock into her again and again.

“I can’t believe you - fuck - you yelled at me in front of everyone,” she spat, her nails clawing at the dirt floor. He was blanketing her with his enormous body, his hips slapping against her ass in such a punishing manner that she could barely get a breath in. He used his knees to spread her legs even further; she was worried she’d break. Her teeth clicked, and she bristled when his beard scraped across the nape of her neck before he bit the flesh. It hurt. “Asshole.” 

“Think you’re so fucking smart,” he rumbled as he found her hands and pinned her wrists in front of her. “I’ve been nothing but soft on you, and you disobey me every fucking time.”

“Not always.”

“You’re being deliberately obtuse.”

She gasped when he got a particularly sharp stroke in. He slid his fingers into her hair and fisted it, causing pricks of pain to spring up along her skull. “Petulant. Fucking. Brat.” Each word he delivered was emphasized with a perfunctory thrust.

He smacked her ass so hard that it made her lurch forward, and she, to her embarrassment, whimpered as she ground back into his hips. He was relentless. He kept his grip on her hair, and his other hand clamped down on her waist. His calloused fingers were still tipped with blood and dirt as he streaked them across her skin. She was going to come. She could feel the burgeoning flood of her pleasure start to swirl in the pit of her lower belly. Her vision tilted. Noises were coming out of her that rose and rose, and Thor was getting off on it as he plowed her into the ground - his cock stretching her to the point that she thought he was stabbing her womb. 

It was good. It was so good, and as her climax brushed the tip of the hill, hovering mid-air, it was brutally yanked backward. Thor left her cunt, his slick cock jamming against her thigh. 

“Wha-”

“You’re not allowed to come yet,” he commanded flatly before flipping her onto her back. Her head cracked against the packed earth, and she barely noticed. Everything else was secondary compared to what he was doing between her legs. 

He gripped her throat, knuckles nudging under her jaw. It was just enough force for her to struggle, her chest hitching with frantic breath as he stroked her puffy, abused pussy. She could feel herself gaping for him as he teased her, tracing her folds as he admired how well he’d left his mark. He grinned, his teeth white and overwhelming against his dark beard. 

He pressed his thumb urgently against her clit, and she yelped. It was too much. The roughness of his callouses, the way he slid two fingers into her and then pumped them in rapid, short bursts. 

“Happy?” he growled as he tightened his hold on her throat. “Look how wet you are.” He momentarily withdrew his fingers, lifting his hand to show her, and she was all over him. He stuck them in his mouth, sucking indulgently before pushing them back into pussy without a single ounce of gentleness. He screwed them deep, her walls clenching around him as her nails bit into his wrists. He had her pinned. 

This was…new. They had enjoyed rough sex before, but he was always slightly hesitant, his gestures framed by careful concentration and reading her tells. He was using her here - cracking her open and drinking the contents. It made her soaked. It made her powers swirl along the paths of her veins, lighting her up from the inside. 

“Thor,” she gasped between gritted teeth, and his eyebrows lifted up in mock surprise. 

“Thor,” he imitated in a high-pitched voice. “No - no - you can’t beg your way out of this one. You can’t suck my cock to butter me up. You have abused my patience, little one.” There was a subtle burst of blue light behind his eyes; his brow was hell-bent as he regarded her with disappointment. “I told you, I’d punish you if you acted foolishly again.” She knew that. She knew, of course. She knew that every near-fatal thing she did nearly drove him insane. She dug her heels into the dirt beside his thick thighs; his weight on her was almost intolerable even though he knew she could take it. “You asked for this,” he accused, his cock slippery and hot against her inner thigh. “You never listen!” He twisted his fingers, rubbing them against something devastating inside her cunt. She arched, hips jumping against his hand. He chuckled darkly. “Are you going to come? Let me see it, then.”

Let me see it. 

The words wrapped in a taunt and desperately angry. He circled her clit again before pressing down, and her strings snapped. She toppled off that damn hill, everything bursting out of her. Her skin twitched purple, and Her vision blacked out. Her walls fluttered around him, her mouth parting on a shriek, and all of it dialed to an eleven when Thor didn’t give her a momentary respite. As she tried to settle her breathing, Thor took himself in hand and breached her with his cock.

She choked, her hands flying to his shoulders. She was still coming, pulsing and shivering, and he laughed. “You fucking love this,” He grabbed the hinge of her knee and flung it over his shoulder so he could hit deeper. He bore his weight, lifting himself slightly, gaze caught on where he was driving into her. His hand found the peak of her sex, and without a warning, he shocked her. She tried to scream, but Thor covered her mouth with his own, his tongue roughly fighting with hers, muffling every high-pitched noise exploding out of her. His cock was molten as he sheathed it to the hilt, her skin blistered, and his hands on her were possessive. He grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks together, his electric-blue eyes shimmering and unnatural as he bored them into her own. “I fucking love you, you idiot,” he stated, voice a shade of desperate. “I fucking love you.”

His hips bunched against her pelvis as he rocked forward. She felt the warm pulse of him - the spit of his seed wet and heavy and, to her horror, she began to tear up from the pleasure of it. She tried to pull away, but he caught her around the arms, hauling her against his chest; his lips landed on her forehead as one of his hands slipped over her curls, and he pressed two of his fingers against her throbbing clit. She came again.

***

After several minutes, Thor collapsed, rolling onto his back. He gave her a sidelong glance, unsure if he’d pushed her too hard. Her chest was heaving, and there was sweat beading down her hairline. Her breath was coming in tiny pants between her parted lips. Had she been crying? 

“Are you-”

She shifted onto her side, her expression dazed and, to his relief, dreamy. “C’mere,” she cooed, and he went, bundling her up in his arms and sealing himself to her shivering body. He dropped his head to press a kiss to her mouth, and she sighed against it. He took her lips again, fingers brushing along her collarbone, her throat as their tongues met in a coaxing dance. He nipped her bottom lip, and she shuddered, her fingers curling around his hair and yanking gingerly on his braid.

“Did I make you cry?”

“In a good way,” she replied before frowning in displeasure. “How embarrassing.”

He snorted.

He’d fucked the chaos out of her, that was certain. She made a hum of contentment as she wiggled closer into his warmth. Her stubbornness had seemingly fluttered away as she clutched at the nape of his neck, pulling him down for more languid kisses. She was as docile as a house cat.

He smiled against her mouth, darting to the side to nuzzle his nose into her cheek. “Did I teach you a lesson, then?”

She squeezed his waist, grinning up at him wickedly. “Oh no,” she replied, her tone throaty and sweet. “If that’s what I get for not listening, then consider me forever deaf to your orders.”

“Hilarious.” He paused before his smile began to fade as he considered her words. “That’s a joke, right?”

Like....imagine, if you will, becoming an assistant for the Spider-society after your dimension is destroyed. It's mostly because Miguel took pity on you since you're not a spider-person, you had nothing to do with the unravelling of your world, and/or you were meant to gain your spider-powers but an anomaly in your dimension prevented it. Since there's no place for you in another multiverse, he keeps you on his team both to give you asylum and to keep an eye on you just in case you prove to be an anomaly yourself....but it becomes pretty clear pretty early on that you're not really a threat. Not for violence, at least.

You're just a sweet thing that gets doted on by nearly everyone in the society--you're either a refreshing break from the endless spiderman variants running around or you remind the spiders of their Mary Janes, their Gwen Stacies, their Gayatri Singhs, and being a civilian to boot makes you the perfect candidate to have your things carried for you and be given web-slinging rides around the facility even though you're supposed to be the assistant here.

But even so, even though you're treated so lightly, Miguel really likes you and even--gasp--enjoys your company. It can be hard to tell with him, but the most perceptive of the spiders notice that Miguel keeps you in his good graces always. When he's stressed or in a bad mood, he collects himself before he speaks to you. He never snaps at you, and on the very rare times you get caught in his crosshairs, he apologizes quietly and gently and reiterates that whatever it was about, it wasn't your fault. He gives you so much wiggle room for error to the point that his companions sometimes complain outright that he's such a hardass, but he never berates you when you make a mistake, and without fail Miguel will come up with some reason for it; "That's because they don't screw up as often as you do" or "At least I can trust them to do their job", or he'll just tell whoever's bitching to leave you out of it and he'll dismiss you to discuss the matter privately.

Surprisingly, those incidents don't bother him nearly as much as when the inner circle starts getting closer to you. He feels this deep need to pull you away when Gwen offers to take you on a trip through the dimensions (although that's just plain dangerous), but it also bubbles up when Hobie hangs around and encourages you to join his band, and when Jess asks you questions about your life and is eager to hear about any potential romances you might be getting yourself into--there's a lot of single spider-people out there, and you're not tied to any dimension, so you've got plenty of options!

God, Miguel hates when Jess brings that up. You don't need to go anywhere, your place is here. You can stay here safely, which is something he can't promise in any of those other dimensions the spiders come from. But that's not the real reason, he realizes that when he feels that tingle at the sight of you holding Mayday and playing with her, having been given the task of impromptu babysitter for Peter when he has to rush off and do damage control somewhere.

It's you. He likes having you around, and it's not about letting you venture off into other dimensions, he just doesn't want you to leave him. That's why he loves it when you reply to those people, when you tell them "Oh, but I couldn't leave Mr. O'Hara! He'd lose his head without me." or "I really like this job, actually. I wanna keep working under Mr. Miguel." and especially "Miguel saved my life, I owe him all I can give. I could never leave him all alone." because it just reaffirms that desire for him to keep you as close to his side as possible. When he replays those videos of himself and his daughter, the pain is dulled for a while as he sees your eyes in hers, and envisions a future where you create a new family with him--one that he can properly protect this time.

It's that fantasy that emboldens him to lay hands on you, your body so puny and small in comparison to his massive frame, so fragile as he holds your hips in both hands and waits for you to tell him this isn't really what you want. He's waiting for it, anticipating it, even reminding you that you have the option when you look up at him shell-shocked. He promises that your answer won't affect your position here. It falls on deaf ears, however, because you desperately want to kiss him but you just don't think you can reach.

It's so adorable to see you try. Up on your tiptoes, clutching at his suit, straining to try and reach him where he's at--all it takes is an arm around your waist and he's got you off your feet and in the air, perfectly situated to press your pretty mouth to his own and awaken his instincts that have laid dormant all these long years. The stress of keeping each and every dimension following its intended canon has nearly broken him, it might have done so already if not for your unexpected appearance in his life. It's riled him up so much he doesn't think twice about taking you back to his place, nor gives him second thoughts when you help him peel that tight suit off and he tears through your clothes just as easily--maybe it really doesn't matter. His world is gone and so is yours, but you're both still here and you're begging him for another kiss, for more attention. How sweet could you possibly be? Pleading for something you'll always have and not realizing it's the least you deserve, perfect as you are?

Miguel just can't help himself anymore, he's too far gone and you’re too angelic for him to let down when you want him so badly. You don't seem to mind the rough treatment as he pushes you down either, no, you thrive on his aggressiveness and even encourage it to come out as he clambers over you. That pretty smile and those giggles as he shoves your thighs apart and spits, his venom sending electrifying tingles up and down your spine as he fingers the makeshift lube inside you. He's so bulky you can't even get your legs all the way around him when he lowers himself, forced to let your heels scrabble down his lower back as you struggle to find some kind of purchase on him--to just grab something and let it keep you steady as he slides in and rocks you into oblivion. The toxins loosen you up too, thank god, or else you'd be seriously struggling to take him in when he's practically twice your size. And he doesn't want to force it in, he just wants to ease you into the process before he allows himself to batter your poor body with thrusts that shake the whole bed--it's a little bit of payback for flaunting your pretty self around his office without ever telling him how you actually feel about him. Now you know exactly what you've been missing.

Drooling, hair sticking to your skin, sweat dripping down your chest, body gripping him like a vice yet endlessly slick....you're a total mess and he couldn't be more satisfied. You don't even try to keep yourself together, but that's all that he wants--he wants you to lose yourself in the way he makes you feel so you won't ever want to leave. The taboo is there; you're not from his dimension, he shouldn't be planning any kind of future with someone who doesn't belong in his world. But it makes it all more thrilling in the moment even if he can reason his way around it, it makes his every thrust gain power until he's breaking your willpower down enough to have your eyes rolling back in your head, hips jumping weakly as you try to participate. You don't even know how good you make him feel without lifting a finger.

Gliding through you as if you couldn't be more willing to take him, his position is clear just from a glance down at your stomach--the bulge is obvious, and as sickening as it could be your whines as you brush your fingertips over it sing his praises without a coherent word. You're so wet and stupid and needy on his cock, clearly he should've done this a long time ago when you were so much worse at hiding your pining looks at him from across the room. If he knew it would culminate into this, he would've saved the assistant crap and turned you into his stress relief toy that very first day. If he had, you might've already had a family by now....knowing him, at least.

It's still just as sweet to lick your tears up now, though. You're already drunk on his cock, it doesn't make much more difference for him to sink his fangs into your throat and pump you full of more venom straight from the source, the shock sending you straight into orgasm and dragging it out for so long he fears you might just pass out from the pleasure. It's like he's juicing up a plump little fruit until it's so ripe it could burst. And as if your own ecstasy wasn't enough, you really lose it when Miguel has you pinned and flooding that sore, fluttering little hole with so much seed it burns. Jets of pearly-white cum squirting down your thighs, painting you like a canvas without him even pulling out, because you just can't take him at his peak and you know it. You just have to whine and squirm beneath him as he fills you up, his hot breath puffing over your cheeks as he keeps you barely still enough not to wiggle away. With a shift of your hips you nearly slip off right up to the tip, his cum sloshing about and making everything too slick--but a hand slides up your neck and grips the crown of your head, his biceps flexing as he slowly pushes you back down with vermillion eyes piercing through your heated flesh. Lower, deeper, until he's seated himself up in your guts again and holds you there to milk those last few shots out of him, keep him nice and warm with those precious walls uncontrollably spasming around him. Doesn't stop you from pulling his head down closer, though, and whispering your praises while begging in whimpers in equal measure, urging him not to stop now. You're not ready to let him go.