#oh... oh no

Oh boy. Comic- I guess?

Any and all skeletons can apply to who is being talked about- if you use your imagination. I tried to leave the pap open to interpretation. Maybe he’s classic pap, maybe he's swap pap?

I totally had nox in mind when I made this. But that's not the point

Fifteen minutes. Pick a prompt. Write some smut. No edits, no thoughts, just sexy writing drills.

Chimerrobang’s Master Post ∙ Earth 202 ∙ These are on AO3 now ∙

"That was the best wedding ever. Wasn't it the best wedding ever?" Carol laughed, colour on her cheeks and light in her eyes, as she pulled Thor into a wild spin, the two of them laughing until they collapsed on the moonlit grass.

"I don't know," Thor replied softly, his own voice a little rough from the Asgardian wine Darcy had somehow procured, "the best wedding so far, perhaps. I can think of one yet to happen which will be better."

Laughing, Carol sat up, poking him in the chest accusingly. "Cheeky," she bent to kiss him, "but I agree." She paused to look at him then, smiling at the flowers braided into his hair. He'd done the same for hers; they matched. They weren't blooms from Earth, but Asgard and Vanaheim, and Thor had said they were magic. Sacred. The word he'd used was hallowed, and it turned out they were part of several things she hadn't realised at first he was the god of, aside from Thunder. Tucking an errant strand of blond hair back behind his ear, Carol bent to kiss him again, climbing on top of him as she did. Thor made a happy little sound in the back of his throat as she did, running his hands over her legs, up her waist and down again.

Carol squinted down at him, astonished smile overtaking her features. "Thor, are you drunk?" She laughed as he ran his hands up and down her sides again, clearly distracted by the fabric's golden shimmer.

"No," he said unconvincingly, propping himself up on one elbow. He looked at her for a long moment, brows drawn together in concentration. "No one else was drinking the wine."

"Yeah, it was spicy. Like, way too spicy."

"Well, it's called 'dragon wine,'" he answered after flopping back against the grass, punctuating the words with air commas, "not mjǫðr." He smiled up at her, lips pressed together, looking for all the word like that settled the discussion.

"That wasn't English, Thor," Carol laughed as she lowered herself against his chest, and he laughed, placing his hands on her back.

"Mmm," he agreed solemnly, looking up at her with adoration in his eyes. "I want," he began, lifting himself onto both elbows with an awkwardness to his movements that betrayed his inebriation, "to kiss you," he smiled at her, and she beamed down at him from her perch atop him.

"Is that all?"

Reader, it was not.

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"...UGHHHHHH"