#human thor

Human Thor

Summary: Being in a casual relationship with a Detective seemed like the perfect idea at the time. But as a series of murders start in the city, you’re forced to not only get closer to a man that’s easy to fall for, but confront a part of your life you spent years trying to avoid.  

The alarm blares in the early morning hour, reaching the recess of your brain, gently lulling you out of your dream state.  

You turn over slowly, the soft sheets rippling against your skin. You crack open an eye when you feel the bed move. 

You lazily watch him sit up, stretching out his arms as he yawned. His toned arms flexed as he stretched a bit, his abdomen barely peeking from underneath the sheets when he reached over to turn off the alarm. You admire the view for a moment before slowly sitting up yourself, pulling the sheet with you.  

The two of you make eye contact, and you give him a small grin. “Something on your mind Detective?” You murmur softly, holding in your yawn as best as you could with a measured breath. He shrugs, reaching over with an arm to pull you to his side of the bed.  

“A few things...” He replies, his voice riddled with sleep but deep and breathy all in one.  

As he dips his head to place a not so gentle nip on your shoulder, you maneuver yourself over his waist. Your hands travel along the light pink scratches you left the night prior along his chest and towards the back of his head, fingers curling around the short strands.  

“What about your alarm?” You whisper against his skin as you press small kisses over his chest. His large hands trail to your waist, squeezing the supple flesh, kneading it like a soft dough. “Oh that? It’s kind of a pre-alarm. I’ve got an hour to spare before I’ve got to start rushing out the door,” He replies, groaning softly as you gently scrape your teeth against his nipple.  

“And what do you plan to do with this....hour?” He’s bringing a hand under your chin and tilting your face up, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “I’m thinking of having my way with this gorgeous woman until neither of us know up from down,” A smile grows on your face, and you’re wrapping your lips around the tip of his thumb. “Lucky woman....”  

*Faceless* 

Your phone vibrates once more, and you take a moment to look away from your computer, another text flying across the screen.  

Dinner and a movie next weekend? 

You pick up your phone, flipping to the calendar, obviously knowing you were free before switching back to your text messages.  

Sounds good to me. What are you in the mood for? 

The bubbles appear and disappear for a few seconds and you leave it open as you finish typing up the project you were working on. It only takes a few seconds before your phone is vibrating again.  

You. There’s that new Sci-fi movie that’s out.  

Sounds like that can be arranged Detective. And I’m thinking Ramen as the appetizer? There’s this place downtown.  

It’s a date.  

You send a few more texts back and forth, biting your bottom lip.  

The back of your chair jostles as hands lightly shake the back and you’re looking up, smiling at your coworker Leo. His dark brown eyes are practically sparkling, lightly glossed lips pulling into a knowing smirk. “That fine ass Detective again?” You set your phone down, crossing your arms over your chest.  

“First of all, none of your business, but if you must know, yes, that fine ass Detective,” He’s rolling his eyes, sitting along the edge of your desk. You hold up a hand to stop him saying what you were expecting. “And no, we’re not dating. We go out, have a good time, back to one of our places and have the best sex of our lives. I like it this way,”  

He sighs loudly, shaking his head. “That’s no fun! Don’t you want that passion to run deeper? Ugh, I’d have him wrapped around my finger! He got any brothers? Cousins? Cause baby....hmmmm,” You chuckle, leaning back in your seat, crossing your legs.  

“We don’t do a lot of talking about much of anything,” “Oh I know....”  

*Faceless* 

You gasp almost silently, fingers threaded tightly in the sheets as warm lips suckle on your neck. “Oh f-fuck, Thor...” Your legs get pushed outward as he bottoms out, and you rest your head on your forearm as he slowly glides himself in and out. “Mhm…” He grunts, his lips kissing the back of your neck before he’s leaving a tingling sensation in his wake.  

He shifts, sitting up, one hand planting along your waist, the other tangling gently at your hair.  

The guttural groan that leaves him almost masks the sound of your whimper as he sharply glides forward. The slap of his thick thighs against your backside is loud, and he pulls out just enough before repeating the same motion.  

Your stomach coils, another gasp falling from your lips. His grip tightens on your hair, the light tug the signal that you’ve learned to trust.  

Your back arches as he starts to set a fast, hard pace, his groaning mingling with your cries. It’s brutal but gives you butterflies with every feeling of the tip of his cock.  

“Fuck baby. Yeah, fucking take it,” He groans, pads of his fingers digging into your skin. You almost scream when he pushes your body into the mattress, keeping your lower back arched upward.  

Your pleas and yeses get muffled but they’re there, your voice shaky, eyes rolled until you saw brief flashes of the candlelit room.  

The sharp tone of his phone ringing barely breaks through the sounds of the night but it’s enough to have Thor slow down, hand reaching next to the dresser.  

You’re expecting a pause as your hair is released but he answers, his voice rough but normal enough.  

You can’t see, but both his hands return to your hips, and he’s thrusting back into you. You bite your lip hard, trying to mask the sound that wanted to leave you.  

“Uh-huh,” He replies, and you can hear someone talking but it didn’t stop one hand pressing along your lower spine, the other wrapping around the back of your neck, fingers closing over your mouth, giving you just enough room to breathe out of your noise.  

The pace he sets is slow and sharp, barely keeping his thighs from touching you. Your mewl is muffled behind his hand. “Is it the same guy? No I don’t need notes. When’s the briefing?” His tone is even andcalm, no matter how much you squirmed under him. 

His hand squeezes your hip and then a cheek as he slowly fucks you. “I don’t care how many bodies the M.E. has. They’re going to wait for us to be on scene. Do we have any ID? I’m kind of busy at the moment…just….give me some details,” 

You weren’t sure how long the conversation went, only that by the time he got off the phone, he was now kneeling in a puddle as you trembled under him.  

“I’ve got to go soon…but…” He’s groaning as he slips out of you before gliding himself back in. “I know,” You moan behind his hand, whimpering again as he tightened his hand over your mouth.  

“You can…stay….I know it’s late, fuck c’mon baby,” His hand is slapping against your ass and you tremble more if possible. “Cum on it for me,” He groans, hands back on your waist as he pulled and thrust.  

“That’s it….fuck yeah….I’m almost…yeah just stay. Until tomorrow….shit. Yeah that’s a good girl,” You’re clenching around him, shaking as he groans and slowly pulls out of you. He cums into the condom, and you can feel the bed shake as your legs feel like jelly.  

He’s kissing the back of your shoulder, breathing heavily. “I’ve got to head out and it’s already a half an hour drive. I’ll lock up and put the spare under the mat,”  

You nod, barely listening as you closed your eyes.  

He’s leaning over you before pressing a kiss against your lips, squeezing your thigh as he got up. 

*Faceless* 

Your apartment was always quiet. Living on the third floor made it easy. Many people took up the first two to avoid taking all their shit up and down.  

You didn’t have much to begin with when you moved to your apartment which made it just fine.  

Your place was minimal with the one bedroom and bathroom space. Enough for just you and a guest or two to take space in your living room if need be.  

Your apartment was color coded, natural tones in the living room, a few vibrant colors in the kitchen, and the occasional splotches of your favorite colors in your room and bathroom.  

No one ever bothered you.  

No one called you. No one needed you.  

It was just you and a few neighbors. All were quiet. Kept to themselves. Your corner apartment gave access to all around you, just as much as to others. Hence why no one wanted it.  

You look up from your plate, eyeing your most recent guest. Paris. She just needed a little guidance. Sometimes you took in strays. It was a hard, sometimes cold world.  

“Comfortable?” You ask.  

She turns, giving you a small smile.  

“Yeah. It’s soft, comfortable. I hated sleeping on the floor,”  

You smile, making your way over towards the living room, sitting across from her. She was in her early 20s, golden complexion. Her hair was down to her back, tight curls like a mop on her head.  

“We could be sisters in another life,” She chuckles, resting against the back of the couch. “I think we’d pass,” She gives you a wide smile, hands crossing over her lap.  

“So like I was saying. I just woke up on the floor and couldn’t believe my roommate would put me out and I’ve been trying to reach her and she literally just ignores me. It’s frustrating. I’ve been trying to find a new job and I just don’t know. The moment I turned 18, my momma just walked me out the door and my roommate was my friend,”  

You hold up a hand stopping her as she picked at her nails. “Okay slow down. I can’t help you if you’re talking a mile a minute Paris. So what happened between you and your roommate?”  

Her brown eyes roll, and she’s fiddling with her pink crop top, wiping at the stain that had just caught her attention.  

“A nigga, that’s what….”  

Faceless  

"Goodnight! See you tomorrow!” You cross the street, phone in hand, keeping a vigilant eye around you. Your apartment was barely a five minute walk, and the darkening sky was just barely settling.  

You’re checking your phone briefly, seeing a text from Thor.  

Text me when you get home.  

You keep it unread so you didn’t forget about it and continue.  

It was a Sunday so the streets weren’t as busy, a few people bustling about also trying to get home.  

As you turn the corner and onto your street, your name is being called by a familiar voice. You turn your head, but keep walking. Up the road was Paris, excitedly waving at you as she slowly jogs from the sidewalk.  

“Hold up!”  

You pause in your steps, waiting for her as she crossed. A car speeds by as she does so, barely missing her. She stops briefly, turning and waving her arms. “Slow down asshole!” She turns back to you, a smile gracing her lips.  

She finally steps onto your side of the street, and you continue on your way home. “Didn’t expect to see you out here,” You shrug, nodding to her. “Just left the bar with some friends. Almost home,” She steps alongside you, following your stride with ease.  

Her arm presses against yours as she takes in a deep breath. “Oh my gosh, you feel like a heater. Are you getting sick?” She presses her cool hand against your arm, and you chuckle. “No, not getting sick. Just been walking,” She hums next to you, looking down at the ground. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare change of clothes would you? None of my stuff is where I left it and my car was gone. My lips are chapped and they keep bleeding. Ugh, it’s been one hell of a day,”  

When you met Paris for the first time, you told her that if she needed anything, just to ask.  

You could help.  

“I went to go visit my mom today, just to see if she could loan me some money, but she too was ignoring me. I was being myself and started to get frustrated and she just walked on by like she didn’t her me,”  

Your apartment building comes into view, and you pull out your keys, eyeing your car keys.  

“Paris? Let’s take a quick drive to see your mom,” She looks down at you confused but shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re going to do that I haven’t but, you told me to trust you so sure,”  

After loading up into your two-door Honda, you make the short drive out of the downtown area and into one of the local neighborhoods. Paris talked the whole way as she gave you directions, random things here and there and asked multiple times if she could turn up the heat.  

Paris was sweet but like a squirrel but all over the place.  

She finally stops talking as you pull onto her street and she points towards her house. You pull to a stop a few houses down before cutting off the engine. She starts to place her hand on the door before you stop her. “Paris, wait,”  

You motion towards the man standing outside the front door talking with whom you assumed was her mother. “Oh shit. Is that a cop?” Paris flings open the passenger door before stepping out, and you’re quick to follow. “Paris! Wait, I need to tell you something,”  

You reach for her hand, clasping it tightly. She swivels around, her eyes suddenly watery.  

“I need to know why that cop is talking to my momma,” You let her hand go, deciding to stay put as she crossed the road. “Momma! Momma!”  

You frown, sighing softly as you wait.  

It always hit you hard. These types.  

You hated getting close, and on top of it with Thor standing only a few hundred feet away from you, this situation was going to get far more messier.  

Paris is suddenly appearing next to you, tears down her face. “Why can’t they....how did I...” 

You look over at her, taking her cold hand.  

“They can’t hear or see you. Not now, not ever,”  

Day 4: Human AU

They meet at the same crossing at the same time every morning for three weeks and try not to stare at each other. They sip coffee, fidget, and pretend to check their phones. They accidentally meet eyes one morning and quickly turn their heads, flustered. 

They wonder about each other. What the other does for a living, his name, where he lives, what his voice sounds like, what he eats for breakfast, what kind of music he listens to, if he’s single. If he’s good in bed. If he’s straight or not. What names he moans when he comes.

They invent backstories and make Sherlock Holmes-worthy deductions about one another for three solid weeks because both of them would rather die than do something as unthinkable as strike up a conversation with a stranger. (Even a stranger that they see every day.)

Thor is convinced this tall, slim man with pretty green eyes and glossy black hair works in an art gallery somewhere, eats takeout on fine China, drinks champagne like water, hosts dinner parties at his immaculate flat every Saturday night, and masturbates to BBC period dramas.

Loki is convinced this disgustingly handsome, golden-haired alpha male with the body of a Greek god works at a gym somewhere, lives on raw eggs and whey protein, drinks beer like water, hasn’t read a book in years, and has a dick to match his sex drive—enormous, in other words. 

On day 24 they speak their first words to each other. Loki steps aside to accommodate a woman in a wheelchair and bumps squarely into Thor’s chest.

“Eh-excuse me,” he stammers, and pushes himself away. Thor, enthralled by the smooth, deep voice, stupidly utters, “Thanks.” 

On day 26 they finally smile at each other. On day 28 they exchange greetings and names. By day 31 they’re both showing up at the crossing ten minutes early to chat and learn more about each other. Loki works at the nearby library. Thor is a personal trainer. They’re both single.

On day 35 Thor learns Loki is incredibly introverted, likes horror movies, and lives off of frozen meals. Loki learns that Thor has just moved to the area, likes to cook, and just got out of a bad relationship. Thor makes sure to say “ex-boyfriend” very clearly, to drop the hint. 

On day 37 Thor asks if Loki would like to meet up for coffee somewhere else besides the crossing. Loki smiles and says of course.

On day 41 Loki invites Thor to dinner at a small outdoor bistro. They spend more time laughing and talking than eating, and stay until closing time.

On day 49 Thor invites Loki to his apartment for a home-cooked meal. It’s light, delicious, and very brief; they don’t even make it to dessert before they’re stumbling down the hallway toward the bedroom, kissing and stripping one another’s clothes off.

“Wanted you since I first saw you,” Thor utters between kisses. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“I never dreamed this would happen,” Loki gasps. “I was absolutely certain you’d be straight. Or a prick. You were just too good to be true.”

Thor snickers and kisses him again.

They fall into bed like they fell in love: fast, hard, and with hardly a word spoken between them. Thor is an attentive lover, generous and patient, a good match for Loki’s shy nature and relative inexperience. The sex is incredible, the best either of them has ever had. 

Professors Steve and Thor share a table in the campus cafe every lunch. Each tries to work up the courage to talk to the other, their mutual crushes making it difficult.

For the: ✦ @thundershieldbingo 2024 Mini Bingo - No Powers [Card #2 "Alternate Universe"] ✦ @tonystarkbingo Round 8 - AU: College [S2] (Card: 8050)

There is an ancient vampire prophecy that foretells the coming of a Redeemer: in the days after the Great Persecution, a child shall be born with the mark of spilt blood upon his neck, whose hair is sunlight and whose eyes are as the faultless blue sky; for it is by these signs that the Afflicted, ever longing for the warmth of Sol, shall know him. And whosoever drinks of his blood shall be free of the Dark Curse, and walk in the light once more.

Loki never believed the prophecies. They’re nothing but fairy tales, wishful thinking, pleasant lies that vampires tell themselves as they fall asleep each dawn. Loki knows better. His kind are doomed to walk in shadow for all eternity, hated and hunted, hungering and hopeless. There is no Redeemer. Not for him. Not for any of them.

Certainly! Here’s a continuation of that Thorki merfolk AU I hope to have finished in time for Mermay this year.

When Loki came to a few hours later, he found himself lying on a bed in a dim, claustrophobic cabin. His hand had been treated with a poultice and bandaged, but that was the extent of the care he’d been given. He tried to move his fingers and succeeded, but at a painful price.

Thor had known, of course, that this was his magic-dominant hand. Some sea sorcerers preferred their tentacles—or their tails or other limbs—to be the conveyors of their powers, while some used objects, like a staff or a wand. Loki had chosen his left hand to be the instrument through which he cast his magic, and until it fully healed, there would be no further enchanting, cursing, or supernatural shenanigans from him.

That, combined with the fact that his tail had been secured to the bed with ropes, further exemplified just how grave his situation was. Not that he believed Thor would kill or mutilate him, but Loki was very conscious of the eighteen years’ worth of pranks, mischief, and antagonizing the human had endured at his hands, and the thought that he might finally be forced to account for all his devious deeds thoroughly worried him.

He sat up and tried to pick at the heavy knots binding his tail, but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the door. He threw himself back down and pretended to be asleep. A few seconds later Thor entered the room carrying a wooden mug in his hand, and shut the door behind him. Loki watched him through the fuzz of his eyelashes as he set the mug down on the little table beside the bed.

“I know you’re awake, Loki. You can stop pretending.”

(( IM GOING TO ANSWER THIS IN THE ZOMBIE VERSE BECAUSE I CAN. ))