#dark!thor

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Yule Be Sorry

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You go along with the prince on his Yuletime celebrations.

Character: Thor

Day Twenty of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - i hate the holidays and you love them

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“It is time for Yule. The greatest time of the year!” Thor booms. You don’t look up from the thick tome you’ve been pouring over for weeks. “Come, Father is to set off upon his solstice journey at sunset. 

“Like he does every year,” you mutter. 

“Yes! Exactly,” he claps his hands. “It’s rather exciting, isn’t it?” 

“How so?” You suppress a yawn. 

“You are so amusing, how you act as if you don’t care.” 

“I don’t,” you assure him. 

“But the sky. Father makes such beautiful colours!” 

“Heimdall does the same every time you decide to disappear halfway across the galaxy,” you rub your cheek and lean your chin in your hand. You turn the page. “It gets rather dull after so many millenia.” 

“And yet here you are,” he preens. 

You keep your eyes on the book lest you betray your true thoughts. Yes, you were bound in blood to the Family Odinson after your father’s rebellion. They might have spared you servitude in the traditional sense but acting as companion can be just as dull. 

“What else would you do then? This is a special day. Winter is come.” 

“Mmhm,” you hum and tilt your head to look at him. 

“Would you rather sit inside and finish your study?” 

“Yes, I would, now you say it,” you return. 

“No wonder you and Loki always got on,” he narrows his eyes. Got on? Loki is intolerable in his own waay. 

“I will come see the lights, let me finish this passage,” you relent. 

He harrumphs as you put your eyes back to the page. You lose all focus as his childish impatience irks you. You close the book and shrug as you stand. 

“Very well, Happy Yule, Prince.” 

With his triumph, he’s content. He is in the habit of winning and you are in the habit of appeasing. You follow him from the room and proceed side by side down the halls. You emerge into the Asgardian evening, the sky speckled with falling flakes summoned by Lady Frigga’s seidr. 

The city is alight with the market lights of the commonfolk and the Bifrost pulses in an eerie glow. You peer around and stop as the prince walk past you. He brushes against you without concern. 

“Why, Prince, your Warriors Three are there. Perhaps an ale and their company is preferable--” 

“Come,” Thor demands, “they do not find the stalls of any interest.” 

You hum but obey. That’s odd. He is always so eager to be with his most favoured comrades, to rowdily race them to the bottom of a flagon. Though it is Yule, that day seems an unusual one. Especially for him. 

You catch up to him as he ushers you away from the palace. Usually Loki is one for the markets, though not for any innocent means. He is amused by their handmade trinkets, often mocking them. You peek over at Thor and consider him closely. His eyes... blue as any sea. 

“What is it?” Thor startles you from your inquisitive stare. 

“Nothing, prince,” you lie and look ahead of you as you proceed down the incline. 

“You think it is one of his tricks. I assure you he is off chasing Sif with those. Did you not hear the quarrel last night?” Thor chuckles. 

“I think the next realm heard that one,” you remark. 

Thor laughs, “hm, you must recall that one and say it to him.” 

“Not all of us may get way with that. You are welcome to take it yourself,” you say. 

“Ah, but he finds you so amusing.” 

“We both know how he is, you best of all,” you gird. 

“I tease,” he chortles once more. “Come, look, at the crystals.” 

He grabs your arm and drags you to a stall of blow glass ornaments. They are delicately crafted. While you might spare a coin or two for them, you would be concerned for how to get them away unbroken. 

“Fine seller,” Thor says, “how much to have some taken to the palace on my behalf? My mother requires her Yule gift.” 

You glance at him again as he barters for several fine pieces and the delivery. You’re not surprised. You should have guessed at his purpose. 

As you walk on, you snort, “prince, did you forget your yule presents this year?” 

“I’ve not forgotten, only delayed. I’ve had much more important obligations,” he insists. 

“Certainly,” you agree dryly. 

It’s his turn to harrumph. You carry on through the market. While many turn to look at the prince and move from his path, others are too swept up to notice. Thor makes no display of if. 

“Cider, ah, it is the white-haired fellow who adds the firewhiskey,” he takes your arm before you can react, “two, sir.” 

He slaps down coins with his other hand as the man greets him with a grin before scooping hot cider from his large cauldron. The smell of the spices make you dizzy. Thor hands you one of the bone mugs and takes his own, still gripping your wrist. 

You wriggle free and he lets you go reluctantly. Odd. He is acting oddly. He is always excited for the Yule celebrations, that is not unusual. It is the way he is so uptight that has you suspect. You sip and eye him once more. 

“You may keep staring, lady, but I will not turn into a snake,” he smirks. 

“Loki is not so obvious,” you agree. 

“Is it such torture to enjoy this time of year? To celebrate with those close to you? How dour you are.” He admonishes. 

You inhale the steam curling off the brim, “thank you, prince, for the cider. I am grateful. Forgive my grimness.” 

“Do enjoy it, if you do not find pleasure in anything else. The man who brews it is a master,” he says. 

You blow over the cup and take a sip. Beneath the richness of mulled apples is the stringent layer of whiskey. You are cautious with your tending to your beverage as the prince gulps his own. The mug is tall enough that the bottom should see you woozy from the helping. 

You carry on in your perusal of the wares and stall games and shows. Voices unfurl in the air and music plucks through the buzz. The sky is a spectrum between the bifrost, Frigga’s illusions, and the stars gleaming down on the torches set with flame. 

You circle around and come upon the same puppet show with the contorted impressions of a single master. You find it too bawdy. Thor stops and guffaws as you continue on to the seller and her woven blankets. She still has that one with the fawns on it. Yet, there is many enough blankets at the palace. There aren’t enough in the nine realms to make it more than a glorified prison. 

You swirl the dregs of the cider as Thor catches up to you. Your stomach burns as you peer into the mug. You think of dumping the last of it but wouldn’t want to be rude. 

“We should return, father will go soon,” Thor says, his own mug disposed as he emptied it long ago. “How is the cider? You do not seem fond of it?” 

“It is nice. I only savour it,” you assure him, finding the world smearing around your movements. “Yes, I’d like to go back now.”  

You turn and sway, only noticing as Thor steadies you by hooking his arm through yours. You keep the cup balanced as you look ahead to the palace on its peak. It seems further now than when you came. 

🎇

The world is cloudly like the inside of your subconscious. The glossy fog softens the edges and swirls the hues all around. It must be a dreamy, it feels like one, heavy but light at once. And your body moves on its own, disconnected from your head. 

You’re spinning then all at once you land in a heap. You sprawl over the cushy expanse below you. Slowly, you push through the haze and count the four posts of the massive bed. A bed not your own. Draped in crimson and gold, like prince himself. 

You find him too. He’s a shadow at your feet. You know him only by the glimmer of his blue eyes. Brilliant like sapphires as he looms. You murmur, unable to find your voice. With the clog in your throat, this must be one of those nightmares, the ones that see you helpless. 

Your head drops back down as a groan rolls through you. The prince’s specter moves around the border of the bed. A ripple of fabric stirs the air as his cloak falls from his shoulders. The soft click and snap of buckles unteething and the friction of fingertips on leather and armour smatter through the roaring silence. 

Your hand hits your forehead clumsily as you fight through every movement. A dream it must be but it feels so strangely vivid. You close your eyes and exhale through the apple-y tint in your mouth. 

The world jostles and you with it. Your head lolls as your arm falls straight. A low growl crawls through you and prickles your fear. Your lids flutter open as your knees are pushed wide. You moan and struggle to lift your head.

You only manage far enough to see yourself, to see him. Your lay naked on the red coverlet, he is just as bare between your knees, his hand crawling up your thighs. What is he doing? Wake up, foolish woman. 

Your head drops like a stone in water. The effort leaves you spinning. His palms graze up to your hips and he lets out a gristly breathe. He pushes his legs against yours, splaying you wide as he bends over you. His broad silhouette blocks out the room as candlelight flickers behind him. 

You wriggle weakly and babble. The closer he gets, the realer it feels. It can’t be. The prince would not do this. There are ladies all around who would gladly warm his bed. Those who are not traitor’s daughters. 

So, wake up and see that your mind is tainted. 

You lurch and your eyes widen. You grunt and bring your hands to his hard thick stomach. His warmth seeps into your palms and you nearly scream. You would if you could. What has he done? 

You’re awake. No matter how you tell yourself to rouse, you remain as you are. This is not the summoning of your subconscious. It has to be true. The way you can feel him so hot and hard against you. 

He leans on one arm as he frames your head with his hand. His other creeps between your bodies and delves along your pelvis. You quiver and slide your touch up to push on his chest. He glides between your lips and rubs you until you whimper. 

“Did you enjoy the cider, pet?” He drawls as he nuzzles your cheekbone. You can smell the mulled spices in his breath. 

“P-p-p-” you cannot get the plea out. 

He tickles along your entrance. You tense and try to shove him off with your forearms. The effort aches in your biceps and shoulders, straining even the tendons of your neck. He is unmoving. He leans into you until your resistance collapses, as if you remind you of who he is. Of what he is. Keeper before companion. 

He pokes his thick finger inside of you and you spasm. You squeak and close your eyes as you lay prone to his princely demands. Even if you had the strength to stop him, you do not have the right. 

“Mm, I enjoyed the cider very much,” he purrs as he sinks in to his knuckle, “but I think I shall enjoy you more.” He pulls in and out as you shudder, “and for once, you might enjoy Yule, hmm?” 

[highonmarvel]

girl- i'd do ANYTHING for a very dark!Thor x f!reader where reader is kidnapped and enslaved by him. Noncon, violence will be great.

Love ya! And ty, no pressure :))

-🪐

no it did not take me five months to answer this, who said that. i do apologise for the nearly half a year wait, i’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but i appreciate the ask, and your patience! love you to the moon and to saturn 🪐 alright, here we go:

No Words, Just Screams

Thor Odinson: A quiet and dignified rejection leads to consequences that are the exact opposite of it.

Thank you to the absolutely incredible @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me with this. You are seriously, seriously the best person ever, I love you so much.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I am going to hell.

Non Con Warning

For only the second time in your life you reject a man. He seems nice enough—Thor, is his name—and you’ve seen him around a few times at a mutual friend’s parties, but you’ve hardly spoken to him; he’s gregarious and outgoing and he gets along well with everyone, including you. Though you hardly know him, he’s never given you a reason to dislike him; very short pleasantries have always been comfortable and even humorous, and everyone around you says he’s cool, you’ve just never had the opportunity to really learn anything about him, especially considering he never sticks with one group during a party, making his way through the crowd so everyone gets a piece of him, although it’s never been too much for you.

That’s why you’re so taken aback when he finds you outside and confesses his attraction to you. You had slipped out to the backyard to take a smoke break and try to relieve yourself of the pounding headache caused by the constant yelling and booming music inside.

“I really, really like you. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime.”

“Oh!” you startle, really not having expected this. “I… I’m sorry but no… I just don’t know you too well.”

For a moment you wonder if that was the right call—you haven’t really been on too many dates but you know the general idea of them is to get to know someone, and who knows, maybe you’d actually find yourself attracted to him; he’s not bad looking at all—strong arms, blue eyes, blond hair, the works—but you can’t say anything on him as a person. Nearly as immediately as that thought crosses your mind, it’s swept away when his expression changes.

The usually lighthearted and easygoing demeanour he carries vanishes into thin air, and the somewhat bashful nature he had around you as he asked you the question turns into something a little darker, and more serious.

You really can’t tell what’s wrong with this guy. You try to tell yourself he’s just feeling embarrassed and maybe even a little sad right now, but for some reason you suddenly notice the extreme height difference and avert your eyes.

Deciding it’s best to head back inside, you try to push past him on the narrow veranda where he stands blocking your path to the door. He’s still as you move and for a second you don’t think he’ll do anything until suddenly a calloused hand clasps around your wrist and you yelp in fright jumping back at the touch.

“Sorry!” he apologises nearly immediately with a breathy half-laugh.

You look up from his hand restraining you to find his eyes have softened and his popular but not douchey energy is back, as if that earlier spell was just a trick of light.

“I’ve just… never been rejected before,” he laughs again and shakes his head. His words sound lightheartedly incredulous, innocently surprised, but his grip on you is so strong you’re starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers.

“Uh— yeah, alright,” he lets your hand fall free and you gasp as the blood comes rushing back, cradling your wrist in the palm of your other. “Just know that you’re incredible, and any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You want to thank him for the compliment and for his interest, but you’re sort of frozen in bewilderment at his weird juxtaposition; his words are soft and sweet, but he won’t meet your eyes, staring into the distance as if focused on something; his reaction to your rejection wasn’t extreme, but it was so unsettling you’d rather he have yelled at you.

You give him a quick, tight-lipped smile before rushing inside and shutting the door behind you, not really caring that you left him out there. For 15 minutes you half-dance lingering by the backdoor, but it never opens again and he never steps in. Oh, God, you really hope no one saw that, you’d rather not be bombarded with questions about why Thor ditched the party after seeing you, but you also don’t want to leave immediately and be interrogated on why you and Thor left at the same time. Eventually you stop hanging at the back of the house and dance your way to the main area where Nat is swaying happily.

“Nat!” you yell her name over the music, moving into her sight line to try to get her attention.

“Oh, hey!” she says in an excited and high pitched voice, “Where’d you go?”

“I just went out for a breather and spoke to Thor.”

“You did?” she replies, closing her eyes as she moves to the music, “That’s great, he’s great!” She’s clearly drunk and you doubt that even if you got her alone for a bit she’d be able to understand what you’re trying to tell her. And what even are you trying to tell her? He didn’t hurt you (intentionally), he didn’t do anything wrong at all, in fact, he was overwhelmingly nice, but the way he switched was spine chilling.

You just nod and continue dancing until your legs are tired. You pour yourself a glass of water at the drink table, looking out through the window it’s pushed against into the street where parked cars are lined up and down the road. But one car is in the middle with the engine running, and you swear it’s Thor’s, but it’s just sitting there, and it’s too dark to tell if it’s him inside. If it is him, what’s he doing? Is he waiting for someone? He came here alone, but he stayed sober tonight, maybe so he could drive a few friends home because he was just that thoughtful, but… maybe that’s not the reason he’s sober while everyone else—including you—is drunk as fuck or high as shit.

Your mind swirls in confusion—worsened by the alcohol—as you try to get your bearings, trying to decide if maybe you really are just being unnecessarily skeptical and harsh on him. Whatever his intentions, you still felt weirdly uncomfortable, and you’re not really able to enjoy the rest of the night feeling slightly unnerved by his earlier presence.

You give Nat a quick goodbye and she waves, but you’re not sure if she heard you say you’re leaving or if she was just swaying to the music. The cool night air calms you down as you step through the front door, but you’re not at peace for long before you stumble and nearly fall face first into the concrete with a shriek. But you don’t feel the impact, instead, you feel steady arms catch you, and hold you a little tighter than necessary.

“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks: Thor. Maybe he just went to drop someone off at home and he’s back now, there’s no reason to think he’s watching you or following you or anything like that; for Christ’s sake, you barely even spoke to him a few hours ago, you can’t even classify the interactions you’ve had with him as a conversation, and he’s known around here to be the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, so why does this feel so odd?

You grab onto his biceps to steady yourself, mumbling a thanks as you straighten to full height. You can’t really focus on his features considering you’re much drunker than you initially thought, but his cadence just doesn’t seem right.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Or, alternatively, what’s wrong with you?

“That’s not an answer, baby.” Baby? “You can’t even walk, let me take you home.”

The last thing you want to do is spend any time alone with him, even though you have to admit his offer seems better than sitting on the couch of a hot living room while people grind on each other all around you. What can you do? You’re feeling a little too out of it to reject his offer, but you know he can tell you don’t want this, and you know he can come up with a dozen reasons as to why you should get home, and why he should be the one to take you; you only really know Nat here and she’s in no condition to drive or even just walk you home, and you don’t live close, so walking alone isn’t just unfeasible based on distance, but after midnight is way too dangerous, and you might even hit the ground on your way.

His hand is light on your bicep, gently catching your attention as he gestures to his car with his other, like he’s laid a treat down to lure an animal into his cage. When you don’t move for a few moments, he guides you forwards; initially you try to resist him, planting your feet in the ground as he walks just a little ahead of you, but even his lightest tug is stronger than you can fight in this state, and you soon find yourself slowly walking with him, carefully eyeing the car.

He opens the back door and you slide in, head pounding and vision slightly blurred, but at least relieved you don’t have to sit next to him. You don’t realise you hadn’t given him your address until the car slows after ten minutes, and you groggily turn your now-heavy head towards the windows and peer at the unfamiliar yard the car is parked in.

Before you have time to question it, Thor gets out and slams the door behind him, the car rocks on its wheels and you try to clasp onto the car door but it’s flung open before you can latch onto it. A shrill squeal leaves your throat before your arm is caught in a death grip between a rough palm with fingers digging so hard into your arm you worry he’ll snap right through your bone.

“Thor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yells in your face, causing you to cringe back into the car but he harshly tugs you out and you fall to your hands and knees on the rocky pavement with a grunt, the stones splitting the relatively thin skin of your knees leaving abrasions dirty with sand and small rocks.

Thor’s hand tangles itself into your hair and you yelp as you grip onto his wrist and hastily stumble to your feet lest you risk him ripping your scalp off. If he feels your nails digging into his skin so hard trickles of blood run down your fingers, he doesn’t show it.

You let one hand go and attempt to swipe at him but he’s just far enough out of reach, and you’re not really able to land any hits on target given on your disorientation.

The door to what you assume is his house slams open and you’re flung so far in your slide across the floor for a few metres before hitting your head against the hardwood. You groan as you lift a hand to your temple to feel for a warm trickle of blood racing down the side of your face, but before you can bring your fingertips to your line of vision, a heavy and muddy boot presses onto your head, pushing your cheek into floor and clotting leaves and twigs into your hair. You gasp and try to reach back to pry his ankle off of you but he swats the hand away with one of his own and you let it fall to the floor with a whimper. He leans forward on his leg and lets out a disappointed sigh, crushing your face so your lips purse and you can’t even ask for him to stop.

“This could have been a lot easier, you know,” he says casually, as if saying yes to him was the definition of a no-brainer, and in his mind, it might have been; he’s never been rejected before, and by the way he’s behaving, you can tell he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Saliva drips out of your mouth and forms a small pool on the floor as he presses down harder, before he finally releases you and you’re able to place your hands underneath your shoulders and push your head up, and the room spins so fast you nearly regret doing so. You don’t have time for relief before you’re kicked so you have to roll over onto your back and stare up at this beastly man who seems to be becoming less human and more animal-like by the second, breathing heavily as if he’s the one who was practically thrown across the room and crushed under the weight of a tall man. His pupils have definitely dilated, making the anger in his eyes that much more intense.

Again he presses his foot down, this time to your stomach, knocking the wind right out of you. You try to squirm upwards from under him but he leans down and effortlessly wraps a large hand around your throat, stopping you in your tracks as you pivot your attention to prying him off of you and trying to get some air into your lungs again, ignoring the black spots that dot the corners of your vision.

He does finally let go of your neck but not before slamming your head into the floor, making you gurgle and sending a near-deafening ringing sound bouncing through your skull. You try to prop yourself up on your forearms but you can’t lift your head a few inches off the ground before it slams back down.

“I try… to be nice,” he growls as he steps over you, putting one foot on either side of your body, “And you… just wanna be difficult.” He brings his boot up and slams it down hard against your wrist, and your scream is so loud you nearly miss the unmistakable bone-crunching sound the stomp makes as your left wrist breaks under the impact.

“Please—” you begin, but are forced to let out a cry of pain as he presses down harder.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” he bellows, but he finally frees your mangled hand and you gasp as you push over to your left side, wanting to grasp your wrist in your right palm but stopping short when noticing the hypersensitivity even as you brush your fingers lightly over your jagged skin is enough to make you want to pass out. “No words,” he continues, clearly trying hard to keep his voice level, though you can still hear the twinge of sadistic enjoyment at the edges of his words, “Just screams.”

He nudges you over until you’re lying on your belly again and makes quick work of kicking your legs apart. In anticipation of what’s coming, you try to kick at his crotch but he catches your ankle and crashes your leg back down to the cold, hard floor. The sound of him unbuckling his belt makes your heart rate pick up, drumming against your ribs is such harsh hits you’re scared it’ll break through. You try to claw forward but choke on a sob as you’re reminded of your broken wrist when the slightest movement causes blood to start painfully pumping through the site of injury.

When he spits in his hand, you break down and let out a wail, and based on the grunt he lets out as he strokes himself, it seems to only spur him on further. You don’t even know when he’s pushed your underwear to the side but when he feel his tip rest for a moment on your entrance, it makes you cry out a plea, using your right hand to claw at his thigh while hopelessly trying to thrash your legs with your thighs trapped under his knees that are painfully digging into your flesh, “No, no, no, please, please—”

He interlocks his fingers through yours making sure his palm presses down on your injured hand and his other hand pulls roughly at your hair to bring your head up. He spits in your face then slams your head back down so hard your teeth chatter and you taste warm blood filling your mouth.

He pushes into you with a frustrated grunt at how painfully dry you are, but that doesn’t stop him for long. He spits on his hand and reaches down to add a few wet fingers to his length, causing you to cry out at the painful and unnatural stretch. With a low growl in the back of his throat, he slowly pulls himself nearly entirely out of you before slamming his hips so far into you that you jerk forward and feel your walls tear around him. The sight of blood has him nearly drooling and makes his task of rocking into you a little easier, and you’re sick with the thought. You can’t even cry out for help, all your oxygen being used to actually keep yourself breathing despite your tortured cries and the fear you might actually split apart because of how relentlessly his massive length is pounding into you, literally tearing your cunt apart.

You feel his thrusts start to get sloppy as he loses his rhythm and his muscles tense up. With one final slam he releases himself and lets his heavy body fall on top of you, nearly suffocating you as you heave for enough air to cry. When he pulls out, you hear the disgusting sound of your blood mixed with his come before it drips onto the floor, and you hear him hum in delight as he shoves two fingers inside you earning a yelp before popping them into his mouth and moaning at the taste.

When his breathing calms down, he finally crawls up to look at you, your face stained with tears and snot and spit pooling underneath your flushed cheeks.

“Better get used to it, babe.”

ϟ

💛 [taglist: @pr300877, @cowboysnbugs]

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Old Scars, New Blood Masterlist

Summary: Reader has accepted that she’ll never be wanted, not only by the man she’s crushed on for years, but by anyone. That is until a new player enters the game. (f!, short!reader)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[marvelobsessed134]

Take Me

Pairings: Dark!Vampire!Thor Odinson x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: smut,dub/non con, threats of death, reader blacks out in the end, breeding, master kink, sub!reader, dom!thor

Recommended song to listen to while you read: Take Me by Solya

It was pitch black outside, minus your flashlight as you tried to make your way through the swampy woods. Twigs cracked under your feet as you tried to navigate your way home. You shouldn’t have wandered out where you could get lost, you knew better than that. But you did it anyways, and now you have no idea where the fuck you are.

Owls could be heard in the distance, the swampy waters quiet unless a duck or some other animal jumped into them. You could hear crickets in the bushes. It smelled like salt for some reason, or maybe you were just smelling something else but it smelt like a salty swamp smell.

You could’ve sworn you heard someone or something behind you, but when you’d look back, no one was there. So you just kept walking. You instinctively pulled your sweater closer around yourself.

Footsteps were heard once again and before you could turn around, they were speeding up prompting you to run. You almost tripped on a log as you booked it through the woods, not knowing where the hell you were going. Your only objective to get away from whatever was chasing you. Suddenly, you came across an abandoned church and ran inside, locking the large wooden doors behind you. When you leaned against the door you spotted a figure standing at the pastors podium.

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t know anyone was in here. I just needed a place to hide something was chasing me and-“ suddenly the figure was no longer there and was right beside you. Your scream caught in your throat, you dropped your flashlight to the floor.

It was a tall, long haired, blonde man. He was quite handsome if you say so yourself. But he looked a little disheveled and had a dark primal look in his eyes. But what really set it home was the fangs.

“Please don’t kill me.” You pleaded weakly. His large hand caressed your cheek, “I won’t if you’re competent. Disobey me and I will take your life.” His voice was deep and somewhat sexy. You hated the fact you felt tingly.

“O-okay.” You replied in a shaky voice. He tilted your head up with his hand clenched on your jaw.

“W- wait! Can I ask a question?” You knew you were risking your life here, but you at least needed to know who he was.

“Go ahead, my pet.” Your eyes widened at the nickname but then cleared your throat, “W-were you the one following me just a few minutes ago?”

A smile spread across his lips, “Yes, it was. You’re so smart, little bunny.”

The vampire pressed his lips to yours and encaged you against the doors of the church, ravishing your lips like they were his last meal-if he were a human, that is-and the worst part was that you enjoyed it. You were scared, but you enjoyed it nonetheless. He let out a low growl at your competence, grabbing your waist with his right hand while his left hand stayed on your jaw.

Once he pulled away, he said, “You will address me as master. Understand?”

“Yes…master.” You replied weakly. The larger man let go of your jaw making you conveniently fall to your knees. You looked up at him as he unbuckled his pants. You noticed he dressed like the men in the Gothic novels you’ve read. The blonde also took off his coat and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it haphazardly across the room. His cock sprung up hitting his abdomen. He was…huge to say the least.

“I’m going to assume my little bunny already knows what to do.” His voice was low and grim. You nodded and wrapped your hand around his shaft, jerking him off slowly, before putting his tip into your mouth and sinking your mouth down onto it, letting it hit the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck.” The man moaned.

You continued to suck him off, letting yourself be completely at his mercy, forgetting every traumatic thing that happened to you tonight.

“Get up.” He commanded and his dick popped out of your mouth with an embarrassingly loud pop. You stood up, staring up at the man who only just minutes ago you were terrified of. He kissed you once again, “Go bend over the bench, bunny.”

“Yes master.” You responded, taking off your sweater, your cotton floral dress, and underwear. You bent over one of the many benches in the church and not long after you felt his presence behind you again.

He gripped your hips, “Such amazing bone structure. Perfect for child bearing.” Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his words and you tried to get up but he held you down.

“Try to disobey me again and you will face serious punishment. Understand, little bunny?”

“Yes, master.”

“Good girl.”

The blonde ran his finger up your dripping folds. “Excited, are we?” You cringed at the phrase but didn’t make any move to leave, afraid that would cost you your life.

The vampire lined his tip up against your entrance before pushing in, pounding into you without warning-not that you were expecting one from him anyways-hitting your g spot everytime making you scream and clench around him, tears falling down your cheeks.

“So fucking good, knew you were the one.” You didn’t pay much attention to his words, overwhelmed by the feeling.

“My new wife, won’t disappoint me like the others.” He smacked your ass as he continued to drill into your tight hole, you felt him twitch inside before spilling his release deep inside your womb.

The blonde leaned down whispered in your ear, “This will only hurt for a little, my dear.” Before something sharp broke the skin on your neck and you saw black.

[justjams2003]

Hello my love! I have a Thor request! So I just read thundering return and I loved it it’s so good!! So I was wondering if you could do something like that but different! So what if after reader gets her outfit okayed by Thor she goes out in the town with a guard since Thor had avengers work to do! But she falls and her dresss ripped and it looks like she did it on purpose.

She so tries to get back to the castle before Thor comes home but he beats her there and when she walks in with that ripped dress he gets mad and teaches her a lesson on being a whore if yk what I mean

Love your writing please take your time!! 🩷

~ sincerely silk 🫶🏾✨🎀🤍

Hello Pookie 🥰 Thank you so much for the request! I must admit I'm writing this at one in the morning so if there are any mistakes I do apologise! But I hope it is to your liking and that you enjoy this very much.

Pairing: Dark!Thor x slave!arraigned marriage wife!reader

Warnings: Mentions of a previous rape, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome-type situation, degrading, praising. Abusive relationship. Controlling, possessiveness, blowjob, face fucking, tell me if I miss any.

Word Count: 2,5k+ unedited

You’ve always liked the sun, warmth. You liked walking in the garden, feeling the rays warm your face and tan your skin. Your mother didn’t like that, she wants to keep you fair and beautiful for the possible marriage offers you might receive. Men did bet millions and billions for your hand but your mother was certain she could get more than money.  

And she did. You’ve done your family a great honour by being Thor’s wife. Connecting the family name to the Odinson name. Placing a veil of protection over the family of beauty. You thought that maybe finally having a husband would mean not having to constantly be hidden from the world like your mother hid you.... You can’t help but wonder how she is.  

“You shouldn’t sit in the sun, it’ll damage your skin.” Your maid echos while you sit on the porch of the castle. Your gaze falls on Thor and his company as they get ready to leave for their trip. You lean your body against the stone of the surrounding walls. Your chin leaning on your flat hands. 

You ignore your handmaiden. You like watching Thor. He looks so stern and kingly, pointing at a map, rubbing his beard and then pointing again. He walks up the castle steps, your heart races and your head rises, you must act properly if he’s going to talk to you. But, he walks past. 

Your eyes follow him as he walks back into the castle. You swallow the knot in your throat. You know what him going away means. It means you’ll be all alone. You’re not allowed anywhere without his knowing and consent. And if he’s not here, you won’t be going anywhere. 

You know deep down he won’t greet you when he leaves. He’s not soft with you when others are around like he is when you are alone. He doesn’t allow himself to be overindulgent when the others are watching. They mustn't know that their future king is weak, that he feels. 

He walks back out of the castle, through the doors and before he’s down the stairs you jump up. “My love?” Your voice is faint and sounds hesitant. Thor stops in his tracks and turns to you. He walks over to where you now stand. His head tilts, telling you to speak. 

“I was thinking, maybe, while you’re gone, I could just maybe possibly-” Thor glares and interrupts you before you ask what you really want to. “Don’t ramble, it’s unsightly. Get to the point.” His voice is rough and quickly jolts you into shape. “Right. Could I perhaps visit the market?” You wring your wrist in between your hands. His eyes fall on your hands and you stop, knowing he hates fidgeting. 

His eyes then seem to scan over your body. He’s picked out and bought each dress with obsessive detail. But some are more appropriate for outside the castle and others better for inside the castle than others. And you know now he’s assessing your current dress’ suitability. You turn around for him. 

He doesn’t give any concrete affirmation but only calls a guard closer. “She is not to talk to you or any other. She will be back before nightfall.” The night nods and stands just a few feet behind you. He’s guarded you before and knows the rules and regulations. A wide smile falls on your lips and you bend your head in a bow. 

“Thank you, my prince. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

The market is lively, and there is music going around from somewhere you can’t quite find. People are calling out prices for their items, trying to sell their wares. There is the smell of boar being roasted and beer being drunk.  

People step out of your way when you walk with your group of handmaidens and guards. “Your majesty. Wouldn’t you take these beautiful flowers to match your grace?” Your eyes fall on the old man trying to pay his respects to the princess. Your guts twist and turn. You know you have a duty to your people, to be kind to them. But also to Thor, to not take gifts from another man, no matter his age. 

You nod to your handmaiden to take the bouquet of flowers. Her brows furrow in worry for your well-being, and her eyes flicker to the guard. You both know he is going to tell everything notable to the prince. But she follows your command. 

“You keep it.” You speak to her once you’re past the flower merchant. Your handmaiden bows her head, grateful. “Please mind my arrogance in asking but was that wise, Your Highness?” She asks, she knows the blue bruises you carry on your skin. She is devout to her princess and not to her prince and doesn’t believe when she says he is soft. 

“Likely not. But I was not the one to accept the gift. You were. Is it not in your possession?” You ask, knowing you’ve found a technicality. She allows a knowing smile to grace her and again bows her head. Your eyes find the sun’s position in the sky. It’s low, much lower than you would’ve expected or liked. “We should go back.” 

But as all accidents happen, in a rush of bumbling and fumbling of steps in a panic to get something done quick. What’s the difference between an accident and on porpoise? One purpose is to plan something beforehand. An accident is an event that has unintentionally happened, that results in damage, injury or harm. And this was not planned and this does cause harm. 

But not harm as in the scrape on your knee. And not as in the harm to the fabric now noticeable to the tear in your dress from the ankle to right above the knee. But rather what would happen if Thor were to see this. The harm that would fall upon you if he believed that this was rather on purpose than an accident. 

You snap your head to your handmaiden. Your eyes and hers go wide with panic. Your heart falls in your shoes and at the same knocks around in your body in hysteria. You scramble to pick up all the material of your dress. You try to cover yourself with what little extra material you have. 

From there it was a mad dash. You’re glad being a princess allows you to move through the crowds rather quickly. Your head snaps back at the sky beginning to dangle dangerously low in the sky. To the point that the blue begins to bleed to blood red.  

Was the sun racing you? Determined to be the first to turn blue. Relief spills over you right as red splashes over into purple and then dark blue. Your feet hit the stone stairs with a clack on each one. But you do not bother because you believe you’ve made it home before Thor. 

That is until you storm into your bedroom. The smile instantly falls from your face. Your heart thumps in your ears like it does after you’ve run as far as she has. Sweat pours over her like a wave smashing everything to bits in its way. You soon hear your handmaiden stop behind you and gasp seeing the prince. 

“Leave.” He instantly commands the girl. She looks to you for confirmation and you give it to her. She closes the door behind her. You gulp, trying to steady your heart racing and your heavy breathing. He steps closer, one heavy boot at a time. If the castle was made of paper it would’ve crumpled. 

He tilts his head, “Who so out of breath?” He taunts you. He knows well the time restrictions set, but he wants to hear you say it. You keep your dress close to your body, hoping to keep the tear hidden for as long as possible. “I was instructed to be home before sunset.” 

You snap your head to the balcony, seeing the last rays of the star just barely creeping over the mountains. “I’ve done as instructed.” Thor hums, he’s looking for something to be wrong. Why else would you be so wide-eyed and frayed. Begging for his praise, distracting him with good done. 

His eyes inspect your body. Quite carefully. Until he spots it. He has to fight the grin that wants to form on his. He steps closer. He speaks: “Good girl.” He coos, but his hand reaches down. His calloused fingers find the tear and drags from there to your upper thigh and then some. 

“What the fuck is this?” Thor’s hand grabs onto your soft supple bottom flesh. He guides your leg to lift into his large hand. In one fluid motion, he has you against the wall, your now exposed leg being made to wrap around him by his iron grip. 

“It-it was an accident. I tripped and fell and the dress ripped.” You stutter, your mind is conflicting with your body. Your body likes his touch grabbing and squeezing onto your thigh. It incites a wet pleasure from you. But your mind worries, this is not the reaction you expected. 

Thor scoffs, “Please, that bullshit if I ever heard it. No...you did this on purpose.” Your eyes widen, not that you can be shocked, you expected this more than anything. You knew he’d blame you the moment you made contact with the floor. “No, Thor, please believe-” 

You’re stopped by his hand on your neck and a crazed look in his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t seen those longing looks you’ve been giving me. You’re a needy slut for my attention and you’ve whored yourself out on the streets to get it.” Your breathing hitches at your words. You would fight but you know he won’t listen. 

“You forget your place, wife.” He snaps, tightening his hold on your neck. Your many years of training come back to you. He’s right. He’s right. He’s been gone so much lately on missions with those humans, you’ve been lonely and desperate for his attention. 

“Yes, my prince.” He grins at your words. He shoves you in front of the bed, now he’s ripping at your corset strings. Stripping you as quick as he can. Once you’re bare in front of him, he shoves you down to your knees. His bulge is proud in his pants in front of you. 

“You wanted my attention, you’ve got to work for it.” You take in a deep breath. This is what you wanted. Isn’t it? Why else would you beg like you did to go out? And then rip your dress in such a public place too? Your instincts kick in, you’ve done this a hundred times. 

You make quick work of his belt. It starts with quick and small kitten licks on his slit. His hand grabs your hair. “Come on, don’t be shy now. You’re a whore, act like it, damnit.” He grins, pretending that he cares about what you want. He wants to teach you a lesson. But it only makes sense, right? You did this to yourself. 

You take one big lick from the base on his cock up to his uncircumcised tip. You hollow out your cheeks and take as much of him in as you can. But he’s a huge man and no matter what size you are it’d be hard to fit him all in your mouth. 

“By Odin’s beard, you look just like those town whores you see in the filthy peasant villages.” He groans with a shit-eating smirk. You bob your mouth up and down. Coating his dick in your spit. You make sure to swirl your tongue around his vein just how he likes it. 

The other half of his huge cock that you can’t seem to bottom out, you pump with your hand. He growls at this, clearly not impressed with this shitty attempt at a blowjob. He grabs your head with both his hands. You know this stance all too well. Your eyes look up at him, silently begging him for mercy. 

“I don’t know why you look so scared. Isn’t this what you wanted?” His hips thrust, shoving his cock right down your throat. You gag, but there is no care in his eyes. You grab onto his thighs, trying to stabilize yourself. His crotch rapidly jerks forward and back over and over. Face fucking you with the power of the god he is. 

“Your dirty liar mouth feels so fucking good.” He gasps out, but you rarely even realise what he says. Your eyes are blurred with tears. Your throat burns from his dick stabbing you repeatedly in your oesophagus. Your ears feel almost blocked from the daze you're in being used as a face fuck. 

You can physically see his balls begin to tighten after a good while of him abusing your face. “Oh fuck...fuck...” He mumbles then looks down at you. His blue eyes are hazy with pleasure. “I’m gonna fill your mouth, you fucking slut. And your gonna take it all like the whore you are.” He commands you, but there isn’t much way for you to protest. 

His hot sticky seed flows down your throat. He slows right at the back of your throat. You sputter before taking big gulps. The bittersweet flavour burns your tongue and you can’t get enough of it. “Look at you, loving it. Such a bitch from me and so prim and proper for those other men.” He grins, knowing he can have you like this any time he wants. 

He pulls his still semi-hard cock out of your mouth. “Show me.” He orders, hands on his hips. You do as he asks, opening your mouth that you’ve done as wanted and drank all his cum. “Fucking hell...just look at that.” 

Thor bends down in front of you, his dick still out but he doesn’t care much for modesty when it comes to himself. “Aren’t I just the best? You come in here, dressed like some common harlot. I should’ve punished you.” His hand is on your chin and his thumb swipes at your bottom lip. “Yes, my prince.” He smiles at this response. 

“I saw that you were really just a needy whore for me and gave you my cock instead. Say thank you, you slut.” He’s almost disgusted with how nice he thinks he was. “Thank you, my prince, for showing your whore mercy.” No matter how hard you try to escape the mindset, you’ll always be his little slut. 

He suddenly takes your lips in his. Abusing your lips in a passionate kiss. “It’s because my whore is just oh-so-pretty. I just can’t say no to you.”  

[thehydraethereal]

ও hesh | she/her ⋆ 18 ⋆ fictional older men lover

⋆ DISCLAIMER ❥ THIS BLOG CONTAINS DARK PIECES OF WORK SO IF MY WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCONFORTABLE, DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS BLOG.

⋆ TALK TO ME/ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY WORK OR MYSELF BUT PLEASE, DO IT VIA INBOX NOT DMs. IF YOU'RE ANON, PLEASE, CHOOSE AN EMOJI AND COME BACK AT ME.

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★ REQUESTS: OPENED. PLEASE NOTE THAT I WRITE ONLY DARK CONTENT, SO IF YOU SEND ME FLUFF REQUESTS, I WON'T WRITE THEM (i suck at that). ✻IF YOU SENT ME A REQUEST, PLEASE COME BACK AFTER I WROTE IT AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF IT. BEFORE YOU REQUEST, READ THIS.

⋆ CHOSEN EMOJI s: 🌏; 🌙; 🫧

ও 𝓘 𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝓐 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝓜 𝐘 𝓦 𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝓣 he themes i'll write from now on are mostly dark, which will include: manipulation, lying, violence (choking, hair pulling, etc.), domestic violence (slapping, etc.), abducting, captivity, restraints, depression, stalking, fear, crying, sexual harassment and nonconsensual touching/ kissing but nothing more than that !!! basically i'm exploring any dark theme. I WRITE ONLY THESE ELEMENTS, NO OTHER KINK. so, i would like to get some inspiration and you sending me requests would enormously help. please, don't hold back. i know how hard it may be to find a fic that has everything you'd fancy, and I'm so down to fulfill that for you. if you request a series, i'll make it happen, but please, if you're anon, choose an emoji for yourself so i know you. characters i will be writing for:

ও 𝓡 afe 𝓒 ameron ও chris evans: ari levinson, ransom drysdale, lloyd hansen, steve rogers, johhny storm, andy barber, curtis everett ও sebastian stan: lee bodecker, bucky barnes, lance tucker, nick fowler ও chris hemsworth: thor, tyler rake, steve abnesti, dementus, stone crandall, billy lee, the huntsman ও tom hiddleston: loki, jonathan pine, cpt. james conrad (kong), cpt, nichols (warhorse)

ও henry cavill: clark kent (superman), geralt (the witcher), sherlock holmes, melot (tristan and isolde), august walker, walter marshall

ও others: logan howlett (wolverine), wade wilson (deadpool), brock rumlow, any brad pitt character, patroclus (troy 2004), achilles (troy 2004) p.s: thank you for being so supportive. i am looking forward for your requests, i am so excited for this new chaper, so please, if you have ANY request, send it to me. (i am desperate lol)

[steverogersistheguy]

The song of the waves Dark!surfer!Thor x f!reader

GIF NOT MINE, found it on Pinterest <3

Warnings: none, for this chapter, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Thor seems the nice guy, but don't let yourselves fooled so easily. Also, English is NOT my first language, so if there are any further mistakes, I apologize. Enjoy! xxx

<- Ch.1

The plane trip seemed to last forever, but you had the chance to actually enjoy all this thing when you landed. As soon as your feet touched the sand, you inhaled deeply the salty air. The ocean was more beautiful than the pictures you saw on Google last night when you typed: Tavarua Island.

You finally persuaded your friends to walk to your hotel, and not to take a car, wanting to see the surroundings more.

When you stepped in the hotel, you could only ask yourself how much could all this trip possibly have costed. You tried to swallow the weird gut feeling you had, putting all your uncomfortableness on the theme it was a new place.

You unpacked, and arranged all your stuff on the cupboard in your enormous room. Tyler suggested you all stay inside, but you really wanted to go for a walk.

Despite your whole mood, you decided you were just paranoid and you left the hotel, walking and admiring the places. Your friends remained in their rooms, but you didn't care. It was too beautiful outside just to stay indoors, having tons of drinks and flirting with the hotel stuff, in your opinion.

You enjoyed the seagulls cranking, and the sound of the waves brushing the sand.

As you were walking around, you jumped when you heard a crack under your sneaker. It was a hermit crab, and you have cracked his peachy, almost skull-colored shell.

"oh, nooo..." you mumbled, picking him up. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry.." you whispered to the crab, hurrying to put it in a place where no one else could cause it more damage. You crouched down, your short dress reaching your thighs now.

As you were letting the crab go, you heard someone's step behind you. When you got up and turned on your heels, your face met a broad, muscular chest. Embarassed, you took a step back, finally looking at the man.

He seemed like a giant for you, and you felt so freaking infant in his presence. His piercing blue gaze made your words die in your throat, as you started fidgeting. He smiled, clearing his throat.

"Well, well...I haven't seen someone trying to save a poor creature so desperately." The man started. His voice sounded like thunder, deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked down, cheeks flushing as you mumbled back akwardly "yeah, I-I...I like animals..."

He nodded in response, as he looked down at you. "I haven't seen you around before..." he declared, as you clenched your jaw, feeling his gaze burning holes through your skin.

"Y-yes, I'm on vacation with my friends" you admitted. You told him your name, as he hummed.

"I'm Thor. This island is quiet and we're not so many around... I live here, little one, I know everything" you blushed slightly at the nickname. "Maybe I can show you off this place, later today." Thor suggested. You nodded, as you opened your mouth to thank him. "We will come, sure..." You said. He arched his brows and asked "We...?" You nodded as he clenched his jaw, a possible hint of jealousness in his expression. "Y-yes, me and my friends...the ones I came with..." Thor looked at you deeply again, as a smirk curled his lips, but haven't reached his eyes. "Very well then, see you later, little one.."

You looked at him as he went further, putting on his suit and going in the ocean with his board. You started re-loading the conversation in your brain, as you returned to your hotel. All of a sudden, something else hit your mind. "Thor..." you thought "what an unusual name..."

You tried to fight the urge to ghost him and not come with your friend tonight, but he was just being nice....right?

🌩️🌩️🌩️

As Thor got in the water, he couldn't think of anything else besides you.

You were so innocent, so pure in your little dress, hair dancing in the wind. He groaned as he remember your legs, how the dress cupped your breasts perfectly, how sweet your smile was.

He felt himself getting harder, at the thought of you moaning his name, under him, bearing his children, having you all only to himself. From the moment he saw you walking on the beach, he wanted you, needed to have you. You were the one he wanted.

And he WILL have you, no matter what.

[michelleleewise]

Worthy Masterlist-

Pairing: Dark! Thor x female reader

Warnings: manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, drugging, abduction, stalking, mentions of past trauma, forced imprisonment, swearing, mild violence, dubcon/subcon elements, unwanted touching, each chapter will have its own warnings. Please read them before proceeding.

Summary: After your recent breakup your self esteem is at an all time low, so you take your friends advice and seek professional help, not knowing what may lie ahead....

A/N- mood board made by the lovely and talented @mochie85!!! Thank you so much!!! This is my first venture into dark stories, let's see what happens.

Again, this is a dark fic and 18+. Do not proceed if any of the warnings are upsetting.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

[beccarooni]

(hey so this isn't a proper fic its just kind of stream of consciousness writing, but basic premise is an imaginary what if episode about thor getting cast out to the same place as Hela in thor 1 instead of earth.)

What if...Thor was never sent to earth?

Thor, the God of Thunder, was banished from the golden seat of Asgard. And his trusted weapon, the mighty mjolnir, was taken - cast far away, to find someone worthy of it's power.

I'm sure there's someone out there who views that possibility as a tragedy. As the loss of a gift, the loss of a limb - a hero separated from his trusty weapon. A knight from his sword. A soldier from his gun. A king from his crown.

A god from his hammer.

A beast from it's cage.

Mjolnir did grace my fingers, a long time ago. So long I can barely remember the feel of it in my hand, or the way it looked, or the words it bore. But I remember the feeling it gave me. The pressure of it's weight - the distant pulling sensation of the lightning leaving my body, pulled into that small fractured piece of the dying star.

I mourned it's loss for some time. And what that loss meant.

It meant failure. It meant Odin casting me to a land of darkness, all because my ambitions grew too wild for him to control. My temper was too short, my actions too callous and bloodthirsty to be becoming of a King of Asgard. I had made a mistake, and my punishment was to lose all I had taken for granted. My home, my friends. My power.

That was the way of it, for the first few days of my exile. The land the Bifrost had sent me to was barren and dark, with shadows clinging to every surface. Littered with the bones of fallen warriors - bloodstained valkyrie blades and the rotted wings of pegasi painted a morbid picture of what this place represented.

It wasn't a prison - designed to punish, a place to look at the prisoner and enact your justice. It was a graveyard. A place to lock something away, and to allow time to bury its memory.

Helheim.

Mourning your own death is a peculiar sensation. Lamenting the loss of yourself, and knowing that everything about your position here was all your own stupid fault. You became too greedy. You became too reckless. You had changed.

But then, a voice from the shadows. Silken and low, belonging to someone who bore a crown of spikes - the shadows obeyed her every move, following her this way and that. And her eyes, they were the same as mine.

She told me that it was not me who had changed.

I was the son Odin had raised, only he had changed his mind. I had followed his direction - I had courted death, I knew war as intimately as any friend. I had wielded my weapon for the good of the throne, for the power of Asgard, as my forefathers had. I was the son Odin had raised.

But Odin had changed his mind.

And she knew this, because this story did not only belong to me. It was an old tale, shared by another forgotten relic. Another child of Asgard, who had become just a little too powerful. Who had become a threat.

War had been my teacher, once. But now, it was Death who instructed me. Who taught me to cast out all feelings of loneliness and guilt, and instead sharpen them into blades of anger. To see my losses, as great as they were, as a gift.

Losing mjolnir felt as though my arm had been cleaved from my shoulder. But, in time, I learned that it's weight in my hand was not an anchor - tethering me to the storm, keeping me safe. It was a chain. Dragging me down, keeping me weak, keeping me powerless.

The storm burned from my veins, and this land of darkness became scored with my light. The sky was shared between us - forks of lightning silhouetted against the dark clouds, the shadows on the ground made that much darker by the flashes of thunder overhead.

I didn't feel alone anymore. Cold and terrifying as she was, Death understood my rage. She was my sister in fury; and with our combined strength, we set our sights on something better.

We would not die here, alone and forgotten. Asgard would know our names again. Odin would see his children, those who's ambitions had outgrown his own, and he would regret the day he cast us aside.

The whole of Asgard would regret that day. And I would mourn no longer.

[thezombieprostitute]

@darkficsyouneveraskedfor "Take Shelter" IRL

"love is in the air" wrong! that's the buildup of static electricity before the discharge of lightning. you'll want to seek cover. quickly

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Take Your Time

A sequel to Take a Seat and Take It Slow

Warnings: allusions to mafia/crime, intimidation, suggestions of verbal and mental abuse, toxicity, dubcon, smut, some untagged elements.

This might just be a drabble, but I’d appreciate a reblog and some feedback! You are loved and appreciated. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thor drags his fingertips along your arms and traces your silhouette. He brings his hand around your shoulders as you sit in front of him, brittle as ice. Frozen in anticipation. He extends his thumbs down and presses along your shoulder blades. You groan as he finds the tension nestled there. 

You react without a thought. You grip his knee and bite your lip as he kneads your muscles delicately. He draws up and down your shoulders, each time rolling higher up your neck. As he does, you feel even smaller. 

“You are wound tight,” he muses. “A woman such as you should live in recline. Never should you need worry about a thing.” 

You shiver at his declaration. His words are so sweet yet your doubt remains. This is a ploy. He is a dangerous man, just like Travis. No, even more. 

He trails his hands down your back, beneath the water, around your hip, and up again. He brings them all the way to your neck and slips one forward to frame your chin. He pulls you flush to him, his muscled chest warm against you, and tilts your head. He bows to kiss the side of your throat, his beard sending a ripple from crown to toe. 

“You do not believe me,” he speaks against your skin, “I can tell, so I must convince you.” 

His other hand hooks beneath your arm and he flutters up your stomach. He cups one side of your chest, squeezing with a purr as he nips cloyingly at your neck. His nose drags up to your jaw as he continues to ply you with his need.  

His hand slips from your chin as you lean into him. Your eyes close as goosebumps prickle across your chest. His hand dips down beneath the water. As he spreads his hand over the soft cushion of your stomach, his other thumb swirls around your nipple. He toys with your hard bud as your hand slips up and your nails dig into the firm muscle of his thigh. 

“You are delicious,” he growls as he drags his nose up to your cheek, “pet, let me taste you. 

You turn your face to him, quivering as you’re overwhelmed by his words and touch. You crane awkward to meet his lips as he kisses you. His tongue delves in without permission. His hand creeps down your pelvis and he feels along your tender folds. You gasp into his mouth as he rolls his fingertip over your clit. 

Your hips spasm. You try not to think, yet your head is a scatter with shock. Travis rarely did so much. He was the type to go right for the finish line, leaving you back at the start. 

Thor’s fingers push between your lips and he drags them up and down. He savours you with his touch and his mouth. He spreads you wide with two fingers, flicking with his middle one until your clit it sore and thrumming. You whine and part from his mouth, pushing your head back against his shoulder. 

“Ohhhhh,” you moan as you grip his legs, your own splayed wide in the tub. 

“That’s it, kitten, purr for me,” He drawls and rubs broad circles over your clit, “I feel you getting close.” 

“Mmm, mm, mmm,” you mewl pathetically. 

“I want you to say my name when you cum, kitten,” he nips at your ear as your head lolls. “I want you to tell me I own you.” 

He plays with you. Sliding his fingers around your clit then flick and rubbing, rolling and twirling. He twines your pleasure around and around, until you’re quaking and cooing. 

“Mm-- mm—mmph--” 

“Say it,” he snarls. 

“Oh, Th-Th-Thoooor,” you unwind in a twitching fit, bucking and shaking as your orgasm crests. “Oh, Thor, Thor, Thor.” 

You shiver and shudder through the ecstasy. You reach back and cling to his head, crushing your lips to his as you grind into his hand. It shouldn’t feel so good. You shouldn’t like it this much. Yet, you can’t remember why that is. 

He growls as his lips slip from yours. He retracts his hands and moves you off of his lap, turning you, then bringing you back to straddle him. His dick presses against your folds, adding to the thrum in your cunt, and you latch onto his shoulders. 

He smirks as he looks you over. His hand comes up to your chin, his fingers extending up to your cheeks as he grips your face. He tilts his head and laughs. 

“As I said, I am at your service, my queen.” His finger moves down to brush your lips. “Say you’re mine and you will have all you command of me.” 

Your look up at him, hypnotized by his sparkling blue eyes and the afterglow of his diligent tending. You nod into his hand. 

“Y-yes,” you rasp. “Yes, I’m yours.” 

His irises blaze and his hand drifts away from your face, he follows the curves of your body down to your hips and hooks his hands under your ass. He lifts you, surprising you as he stands at the same time. You squeal at the sudden height and wrap your legs around him. 

He carries you out of the tub. You feel precarious in his arms as he crosses the tile, his body slaking water onto the floor, your own skin damp and dripping. He enters the hotel room and your heart clutches in your chest as you sense another figure waiting. 

Two. 

You look over as Thor takes you toward the bed. You squirm in his grasp and yipe as you see that dark-haired man with his sleek suit and lithe figure. His brother; Loki. More concerning is the man at his side; the man in a chair, bound around shoulders, stomach, thigh and calf, ankles tied, wrists too.  

Travis sits gagged and terrified. One eye is swollen shut but the other is wide in horror as you gape back at him. Thor puts you on the bed and you push on his chest as he climbs up with you. 

“What-- What are you doing?” You whimper. 

“You are mine, kitten.” He states. 

“Wh-why?” You cover your face, humiliated. 

“No, no, do not hide,” Thor grabs your wrists and pulls them apart, forcing them to the bed. He pins them next to your head as he kneels between your legs. “Let him see what he could never give you.” 

Your lip trembles. This is humiliating. You did not believe his word and yet you are devastated. You knew better and yet it is a hard lesson learned. 

He releases your wrists, dragging his hands down your forearms. He trails along to your shoulders and down your chest. He fondles and gropes you shamelessly. You can hear Travis wheezing. 

“Please,” you beg weakly. 

“Please?” Thor echoes with genuine confusion. 

“It is... cruel.” 

“Cruel? Kitten, I do you a great favour,” he snarls and traces down your stomach. 

You bat your eyes up at him and pout. There is only gritty determination in his expression, shadowed only by lust. You swallow and lay limp before him. He takes a deep breath as he plants his hands on the bed and holds himself above you. 

“Put me in,” he commands. 

You sniffle and hesitate. Slowly you reach down between your bodies and grasp him blindly. You can’t help how your lashes flick in surprise. He is thick. Bigger in your hand than before your eyes. 

You pump him once and angle his tip along your cunt. You twitch, still sensitive and tingly. As you put him against your entrance, he leans into you. You let out a high whine as he sinks in, inch by inch. 

Your skin sears with flames of shame and scintillation. He fills you up so much it hurts. It’s a pain that makes you squirm, a pain that feels like heaven. You arch your back and press your hand to his chest. He growls as he buries himself to his limit. 

“I see it, I feel it,” he caresses your face as he begins to rock, “you’ve never had a man like me. Never a king,” he snarls and turns his head to look at Travis, thrusting as deep as he can, “he could never fuck you like this.” He rears back and glides in again. “And he will never touch you again.” 

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Hidden Treasure Masterlist

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (Thor)

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

[wolfythewitch]

Started malevolent, on episode 2

- we started not with a bang but with a whimper

- Arthur does not sound like a word anymore

- that demon in his brain needs to take a chill pill

- I need him tranquilized his shouting is scaring ME

[awesomerextyphoon]

Prize

Dark!Thor x reader

Summary: You’re found by a hunting party in the woods. The king wants to take you as a trophy. Warnings: Non con, dub con, Thor’s huge…hammer

Keep reading

[justjams2003]

Sweet Savagery -11

Paring: Dark!Thor Odinson x Slave!Reader

Summary: All your life, Thor's blue eyes have haunted you. You believed you outran him, but now all your hopes come tumbling down.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of Hel, Asgard, Valhalla, lightning strikes. Talk about slavery. Fire. Nakedness in front of a lot of people. Choking, yelling, chains, parental issues. Google Translate Norwegian. Scars. Body image issues. Talking about not eating. Dungeons. Thor straight up tries to kill you in this one...Tell me if I missed any.

Word count: 2,3k+, Unedited

1st Divider by: @firefly-graphics

2nd Divider by: @cafekitsune

Tag list: @torossosebs @steverogersistheguy @thehighladyofasgard @notyourtypicalrose @presidentlokis-hornyhelmet @lovelyselfshipper @groovy-lady @seishm @sincerely-silk

~Masterlist~

Part 10~Part 12 (Coming soon)

Three months and nothing to fill your ears but the constant down pour of rain. You feel like an empty husk of yourself. The healers they’d come inside, clean your wound, leave food and then leave. The scar left behind...it’s a reminder on your body of something so violent. You spent hours on end looking in the mirror, tracing the white-pink mark. You’d stretch your stomach, looking at the way it move with your skin. 

Then the tears would start again. Of course Thor hasn’t come to see you. Who would want you now? A slightly reminder of your disobedience, if only you stayed with him. You should have known he’d never want you to leave his side. You’d bite the inside of your cheeks until you could taste the metal dripping out your mouth. And then you’d check again. Red, blood red. Not even a speck of gold. 

An annoyed gasp escapes you, with what strength you have you’d hit the mirror. But, it doesn’t have much effect. It doesn’t fill the rage that has been swirling around inside you. You feel so stupid. You know he had to cut his trip short because of your insolence. And here you sit in your room, crying because you miss him. His warmth, his voice and those eyes. 

You hang over the balcony, you look down at the village. Very few people are outside, just those who really need to be. To keep their families alive, to hunt and to fish. But when they open their door the water comes pouring in. Flooding their homes. All because these three months it hasn’t once stopped raining. 

Some part of you feels guilty for it. You know you can't control the weather, but if you could it would be like this. It’s supposed to be warmer now. It’s still cold like it should be in the deep of the winter and the sun hasn’t shown once. It’s not Spring like it should be. And New Asgard is struggling for it. 

“I heard you aren’t eating.” The voice is rough and deep and one you recognise so easily. You scoff, but it hurts to do, your throat is raw from all the crying. “Like you care. You don’t want me anymore.” It’s almost as if a growl escapes him and then suddenly his large hand is on your neck, pulling you back to face him. 

His lip curls up in a disgusted snarl. “You look terrible.” Your eyes are quick to find his. You find comfort in that neon blue that you’ve never been able to escape. You taste salty tears, your nose feels stuffy. His thumb grazes your cheek, his growl softens. “A Queen is not allowed to cry. Have I not taught you this already?” 

“Not even in front of you?” You search for something, anything. But all you get back is anger and pain. He doesn’t like to see you cry, but in your mind he doesn’t like you being weak. Your eyes avoid his, your hands come up and wipe away the tears with the back of your hand. ”I’m sorry.” You quickly mumble. 

Thunder cracks through the sky, you jump slightly and then he has you in his arms. A firm grasp, like he’s protecting you from the whole world. Like he’s scared you’ll be gone any second now. Like he’s going to lose you again. Like something is after you and he needs to save you from it. “My little dove.” 

This makes you remember what you’ve been wanting to give him for so long now. “Thor...?” He’s so hesitant to let you from his grasp. Only when you raise your head and show him that you’re alright does he let you go. “I got you something.” His eyes watch you while you walk over to your side of the bed and pull that necklace you bought so so many months ago. 

You dangle the dove necklace in front of him but his expression turns sour. Another huge lightning bolt hits right outside. Right on the balcony. The fur carpet that Thor had instructed be laid out so that your feet do not get cold, gets hit with the lightning and fire ignites from it. Roaring flames spill from it and you jump with shock and fear. 

Yet Thor doesn’t move. Instead his jaw locks tight and he grabs the necklace from you so hard that the chain almost breaks. “Where did you get this?” His voice is rough and in that moment all you can see is that night where he showed up dripping in blood. The blood none of his and only of men he has killed. 

You only see the anger of a gruesome murder. “I-” The lightning hits just outside the balcony again, the tree hits on fire. You jump, the fear settles in your body as the curtains catch on fire. The fire is quickly spreading, but you cannot run. For Thor’s thick battle-hardened hands wrap around your neck. 

With a simple squeeze, that threatens to end your life, he repeats himself. “Where did you get this?” Your small hands claw as his and he lets go just enough for you to breathe again. “When you left the kingdom in my hands, I went to the market. A old woman there, she sold it to me.” Thor mumbles an array of curses under his breath. 

He still doesn’t seem too bothered by the raging fire creeping into your bedroom. All he does is groan and then quite suddenly he bends down, wrapping his arms around your knees and throws you over his shoulder. His large steps carry you out of the room. He shoots out a rough command for the guards to, “Handle it.” In return, once they see the fire, the begins scrambling like headless chickens. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, trying to see him but you’re only met with a head full of hair. “To do what I should’ve done the damn day I burned your fucking parents alive.” A gasp falls from your lips. He’s never addressed that day. The only sense of apology you’ve gotten from it is the guilt in his eyes when you bring it up. 

But this is brutal. This cuts deep like a knife and twists and you can feel your heart beat in your ears as the fear rattles your body. No longer are you comforted by his presence. Instead, only terrified. Like a mouse being hunted, your breathing is quick and shallow. You begin hitting him, screaming, fighting for any sort of escape. 

“I should have fucking known!” He yells when he stomps down the steps of the dungeon. You’re reminded of the stink of blood that this place oozes. “I should have known not to trust a snake bitch like you.” He snaps, dropping you down onto the floor of one of the prisons. 

He grabs a neck collar and chain. The metal is heavy, and you stagger with the extra weight. He grabs you by the hair on your scalp. He pulls you up. Forced to meet those electric blue eyes. Outside, the storm is raging. Swirling with thunder and lightning. Each strike hits the floor outside the castle. 

Fire surrounds the castle and the knights are struggling to keep the flames at bay. Should he not be doing something about this? Rather, he’s down here with you. “Was this your plan all along?” He grunts when the only reply you give is tears of fear. “Colluding with the gods?” He snaps again. 

When you again only reply with whimpers he bellows out. “I trusted you!” You try to scramble away, the sharp sting of his hand gripping your hair shoots pain through your body. “Thor- please- I don’t understand-” You try to beg but it only back fires. He drops you down onto the wet floor of the dungeon. 

“Don’t give me that! You planned with the gods. They sent you down here, you wormed your way into my heart. Made me utter the words of submission! For what? A chance to sit at the God’s table?” He yells out, pacing up and down the dungeon each of his steps causing a wet plop sound. 

“Did they promise you eternal life? Powers of a God?” He scoffs, blue lightning jumps all over his body and it only confuses you more as to what is really happening. “Did I not teach you to trust only me? Obey only me?” He snaps, cursing again.  

Thor pinches the bridge of his noise “I should just fucking kill you, for your betrayal.” He lifts his head, turning back over to you. Like he’s been struck with an idea. He has this sort of crazed look in his eyes. And...a smile. When have you ever seen him smile? 

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”  Thor laughs, his shoulders shaking. “That’ll really show them.”

The cold settles in your bones. You can barely see the crowd watching you through the thick cloud of rain hanging over the coliseum. You try your best to cover up your naked body with your hands, but that still leaves you shivering. Your body is ice cold from adrenaline. This is where that knight got killed and you can only assume it’s going to be the same for you. 

The crowd cheers when you hear the gate open. You can’t see what it is, but can only assume it to be somebody’s worst nightmare. Something comparable with hell itself. Something that most certainly spells out your death. 

Footsteps echo and the mist clears in front of you. True it is, the one thing you fear, now, over monsters and the sky falling. Thor himself. He is dressed the same as you. Except he looks...Godly. Where before you were certain he was a Titan sent to overcome the gods. Now, you see he is one of them. 

The rain doesn’t touch him. It’s as scared as you are of his wrath. Blue lightning jumps across his body. His beauty is glaring. His skin looks to be glowing, his eyes bluer than ever before. His hair shining like gold. His body looks to exist entirely out of muscle, pure power oozes from him. 

He’s got this smirk on his face, he’s smiled more when he thought of killing than he ever did while fucking you. When he touches your cheek, he’s entirely warm. As if the cold cannot even reach him, his skin entirely impenetrable. His voice is husky and like silk when he bends down and whispers in your ear. 

“Today, you will meet the gods. And they will curse you down to forever wander the coldest pit of Hel.” 

Your knees give in. And as if something over comes you in that moment, you repeat the words he had that night. The world shifts and turns into one of glittering gold. Grass the colour of sunlight under your knees and you gasp, seeing Thor in all his glory. Red fur sits on his shoulders, his armour is a metal you’ve never seen before. On top his head sits a crown made from stone that reflect the golden light all around. 

But what’s even more shocking is that you two are not alone. Not the bystanders, no. Gods. Odin himself, who else would lack an eye? Frigga herself, who else would exude such love? Heimdall, Balder, Ty, all 11 Gods. And Thor makes 12. 

Thor scoffs, “You’ve brought me in front of them? Good, let them see my power and resistance.” He speaks in a language you suddenly understand. “This will not end well and you know it.” Frigga speaks in that very same tongue. 

Your body acts before you can, reaching out to grab Thor’s pantleg. “Is this real?” He scoffs, “Do not act as if you’ve never seen them or Asgard before.” He turns back to argue with his mother, but she shakes her head no. Then his head snaps back down to you. His eyes wide as a realisation settles on him. 

“You have not seen them...?” You gulp and shake your head no. He blinks, looking back up at his Godly parents. 

“You submitted Thor. We returned your power back to you. You must return to the pantheon. Take your rightful seat as heir. With your soulmate by your side.” Thor staggers back, he sees his thousand years on earth flash before him. How hard he worked to overthrow the man who’s crown is heavier than his own. Only to submit in the scramble of trying to save the life of a girl. 

Thor looks down at you. Dressed in the finest Asgardian dress. Hair braided the right way for a future queen. A crown sits atop your head that you had yet to notice. You’re too busy gawking around at the sights that no other mortal has or ever will see again. This is no simple girl. It’s his soulmate. 

His voice shakes, how has his thousand years of planning all been brought down by the single sight of eyes that glow like his own? “Or you can kill her and die along with her. Letting the world fall off balance and let Loki take your place.” That can’t happen, all the realms would fall into chaos. 

“Or you can join her back on Midgard. You can continue to try and raise an army that will never be strong enough to face even one of the Gods. And slowly watch her wither away and die as a mortal. Since you seem so keen on denying her rightful seat on the pantheon with your selfish desires.” 

“I will not let her become a slave to any God.” Thor interrupts. Shouting at his parents, pointing to the girl clinging to him. “Look at her, son.” Frigga sits more upright. He looks down, this time seeing the weak, naked girl with the chain around her neck, crying and begging for her life to be saved by Thor.  

“She already is one.” They’re toying with his mind again. 

(This is the second last part if you do want to be added to the taglist)

[ayo-edebiri]

#and yet, he became the tree of life