#dark!thor

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

Note: It’s an addiction now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The repetitious recording crackles in your ear. You sigh. ‘You are currently in queue. You will be connected shortly.’ You lean on the building’s facade as the noontime rush honks and stomps past you. 

You usually pop over to the cafe on lunch, just to get away from Jensen and the shop. Not today. You flick your thumb against your index as your patience dwindles. What if he got in more trouble and you spend your break waiting for nothing? 

Click. 

“Hello? Hello?” There’s a scuffing then he clears his throat. “My queen, are you there?” 

You don’t answer right away. His timbre is gristly and deep, an accent lilting each syllable. Somehow, you didn’t expect him to sound like that. It sends a chill through you as the rich tone stirs your guts. 

“Thor?” You babble dumbly. 

“Ah, my queen. My apologies. Another did overstay their allotted time,” he tuts. 

The affectation in his voice explains the cadence of his emails. You thought he was just super into Shakespeare or whatever. 

“My queen?” He drawls, “you are quiet.” 

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” you shuffle around the corner and hide in the alley, cheeks burning. “I’m a bit shy.” 

It’s the whole truth. Probably the reason you strike out so often. You lock up and don’t know what to say past a point. You didn’t get far this time either. What made you think this was a good idea? You seem to be chock full of those lately. 

“I understand,” he purrs, “I don’t mind doing the talking. How long I’ve waited just to hear your voice and it is like nectar. So sweet and pure.” 

You bring your hand to your throat and dig your toe into the cracked pavement. He’s smooth. Very smooth. You didn’t expect to feel like this. You full thought you’d be bored to tears. 

“Thank you,” you waft out breathily. 

“It is only the truth,” he assures. “And that picture you sent, how every part of you is pristine.” 

“Thor,” you utter. 

“Forgive me, I do have very much time for thinking and the words overflow.” He rambles, “when I am alone in my bunk and the darkness settles upon me, there is a dearth in my chest and yet my heart fills at the thought of you.” 

You let out a strange noise. His voice, his words... You think of the photo he sent. He isn’t ugly either. Shoot. Shoot! Don’t fall for it. He’s a criminal. 

“My queen,” he intones. 

You cough, “why do you call me that?” 

“Because you rule my world,” his voice drips like syrup. “You are all I think of. It is why I have behaved. I’ve kept out of the hole.” 

“The hole?” 

“Solitary,” he explains. 

“Oh...” 

“Did I scare you? I do not mean to. It is only how things are in here,” he sniffs. “I don’t like it. I am not a violent man,” he assures. “Yet, within these walls, it is needed.” 

“Yes, it would be...” you murmur. 

“But I think of you, my queen, and I restrain myself.” He hums. “I think of your gentle hands... and your lips...” 

Your cheeks are hot. You touch one and exhale loudly. 

“It’ll all be real soon, won’t it, queen?” 

“Yeah, uh, what?” You blink. 

“Yes, upon my release. I wish we could speak face-to-face but I thought a call could suffice--” 

“Release?” 

“Yes, it has been right about five years. My sentence is up. Provided I can bide my parole--” 

“Parole?” 

“You are surprised!” He proclaims, “I knew you would be. I cannot wait. I am counting the days.” 

“I didn’t... I thought... you don’t have a life sentence?” 

“Oh, no, no, no,” he chuckles, “though I know a few of those. Not very pleasant men.” 

You’re speechless. Breathless. You stare at the brick wall across from you. You swear you checked, they all were in for good. Dang. 

“Um, I’m on my break and I have to get back to work,” you croak. 

“Already?” 

“I was on hold... a while,” you eke out. “Sorry, I—gotta go.” 

“My queen.” 

“I hope everything goes well.” 

“I will call again--” 

“Bye.” 

You end the call and nearly drop the phone. Your heart is thumping. It’s okay. You never game them any fine details. You always keep it vague. He doesn’t know who you are or where you live. It’s fine. You’re fine. 

You head back into the shop, slightly dazed. You go behind the desk as Jensen hunches over a motherboard. You put your phone down and sit stiffly on the stool. 

“No coffee today?” 

“No,” you mutter. 

“Everything okay?” 

You shake your head and flick away the fog in your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I just... I didn’t get much sleep.”  

You shift and put your focus to your computer. You open your inbox and go to the settings. ‘Delete Account’ lights up under the cursor. You learned your lesson. You’re not going to keep messing with these men. You had your fun and now it’s over. 

👄

The days grow dull. Life dims back to its usual cloudy malaise. Your mom calls to tell you she’s taking the kids away on a holiday and needs someone to watch the house. You try to think of any holiday you took as a kid. You only ever visited your nan or your aunt. 

You say yes. You need the extra money. Besides, your neighbours are friggin noisy. It will make your commute longer but whatever. 

Their house is nice. Your stepdad is loaded. And a jerk. When he started dating your mom, he made you get a job. You were thirteen and no one would hire you. You ended up going to the nursing home and playing checkers with the residents. It was volunteer only but he said the experience was worth it. You guess you had fun. 

You put your things in the guest room. You know better than to disturb anything else. A list of instructions is left by the door, right next to a camera. Wow, Andy, really? 

The change in scenery is something, you guess. Something different. No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to break the sameness. It’s pathetic that the most exciting thing going on in your life is this. 

You are sure to lock the door on your way out. Every lock, every window, has one of those censors that will alert your stepdad to your most minuscule mistake. 

The bus ride is longer than you like. The seats are dingy. Ugh. You get off downtown and hiss as you realise you forgot your thermos on the kitchen counter. That’s the thing, when you change routine, you’re bound to miss something. That one detail puts your whole day off. 

When you knock at the shop door, Jensen doesn’t answer. You have to bang on it several times before he shows up. His eyes are sleepy behind his thick lenses. You huff. 

“Game night?” You wonder as you enter. 

“Tournament. Got second.” 

“Second?” You scoff as you put your bag on the counter. “Worth it, then.” 

“Ha, I know. I got reckless. Blew it all.” 

“Jens,” you say as you get up on the stool and rub your eyes, “are there any prizes for these games or is this just you torturing yourself?” 

He’s quiet. That’s all the answer you need. 

“God, I need a red bull,” he mutters as he checks the aisles. 

“Me too, bud.” 

“What? You said those things are battery acid.” 

“They are,” you snort. “But I’m friggin exhausted.” 

“They got a dragon fruit flavour,” he suggests. 

You laugh again. “I’ll suffer.” 

He grumbles and goes through opening as you check the till. Despite the rough start, the day unfurls in its usual monotony. You sit and type, yawning as customers wander in with broken devices or hoping to sell some unused block from twenty years ago. 

You’re about to finish your last lesson in your marketing module when the door chirps again. You’re too focused to look up as Jensen leans on the counter and sniffs. He scratches his nose. 

“Hey, dude, anything I can help you with today?” He asks. 

“I am in the market for an affordable device,” the voice cuts through your concentration and tickles your brain. You blink and keep your eyes on the text. It can’t be. 

“Phone, computer, tablet?” Jensen asks. 

“Hm, I only need it for emails, truly,” the customer replies thoughtfully as he approaches the counter. “Basic but functional will do.” 

He stops on the other side. Stolid tension roils around you as sweat trickles down your temple. Meekly, you make yourself look up, assuring yourself of your own paranoia. 

The customer grins as his blue eyes are already on you. Your eyes round. It’s him! How in the heck? 

He’s older than the picture. His golden hair is longer and intertwined with hanks of silver which makes it shine brighter. His shoulders are somehow broader and he has a bit extra above his belt. His arms are hug, stretching the fabric of his flannel to excess. You gulp. 

“I have to go... pee,” you squeak and twist on the stool. You jump off so quickly, it wobbles behind you. 

You dip behind Jensen and flee towards the restroom. He grunts as your elbow hits him in your flight. You don’t look back. It’s impossible. 

You slam the door and lock it. You look in the mirror and slap your own cheek. Wake up! This is a nightmare. You pinch your side and yipe. Come on, wake up! 

It’s real. It’s real. You’re cooked. Oh god. 

You search for an out. Why is there no window in a bathroom? What if you had to do a two? Ugh, this is dumb. No, this is scary. 

You spin in circles, panicking. What do you do? There’s one escape and it’s past that six-foot-infinity man out there. Not just a man, a criminal! 

You could cry. You might. No, hold it together. This is all your own fault. You knew better. Why did you do it? Because you felt good? Ugh. How dumb. Men with no hope calling you pretty. You want to hurl. 

A knock has your shoes scuffing on the floor. You spin and face the locked door. 

“Hey, you okay?” Jensen asks. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you call back in a hollow voice. “It’s just... my time of the month.” 

“Oh... Oh!” He exclaims. “Is there anything I can get you?” 

“Jensen, go away,” you snip. 

“Right, uh... just... uh, right. I’m going.” 

You listen to his sneakers squeak away and you huff. You clutch your skull like it might explode. Maybe it will. That’s a solution, isn’t it? 

You know what you’re going to do. You’re going to explain to him what happened. He got catfished! 

Yeah, that’s plausible. Someone stole your picture and they pretended they were you. That’s so simple. 

You inhale and steel yourself. You’re going to have to lie harder than the time you broke your mom’s favourite vase. You need to earn this Oscar. 

You make yourself leave the bathroom. You stride out calmly and reclaim your perch on the stool. Jensen shows Thor a laptop as he explains its features. 

“Not very used. Apparently someone bought it for a great aunt but she only played Mah Jong.” 

Thor hums, “ah, and it is a bargain.” He rests his large hand on the counter. “I must be honest, I don’t believe I’ll use it much more. You see, I’ve only just come from a sentence in the penitentiary. A lot of this is new to me.” 

“Prison?” Jensen gasps. “Oh man, my buddy just got out on a stint. Sounds rough.” 

“Oh, a friend?” 

“He’s a good guy. You know, some people just have bad luck,” Jensen shrugs off. “I can get this set up for you easy. It’s already wiped, I’d have to dig out the charger, but I’ll throw in a laptop bag for free.” 

“Wonderful!” Thor booms and claps so you flinch. “I’ll take it.” 

“No problem. Now, I was going to offer some security too. I can get that installed with full setup. Eighty bucks. And you can come in any time in the next year for service.” Jensen continues through his usual, though he’s adjusted the number in the customer’s favour. You don’t blame him. The guy is a monster of a dude. 

“Perfect,” Thor growls. 

Your eyes flit up and meet his again. He grins at you and his hand slides closer to your computer. You squirm and quickly look back to your review quiz. He’s not going to say anything in front of Jensen, so you just need to play it cool. 

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Dumb Viking Thor

Thor x maid!Reader, Steve x maid!Reader

Summary: Deep grunts filled the bathroom. Cleaning supplies strewn all over the floor. Your life flashed before your eyes when the stall door jerked open, on your knees scrubbing the toilet is how he found you. “Mr. Odinson.” You say, jumping up.

Warnings: PLEASE CONSUME AT YOUR OWN RISK! Explicit ‼️ 18+ Material, Noncon, Rough Sex, Rape themes, Female receiving pen, Anal, subtle cream pie.

Word Count: 2,039 Masterlist

You meticulously mixed chemicals, being sure not to create mustard gas. Your first week working as a cleaner for Stark Industries left you with zero training. The lead janitor was too occupied with her own doings to teach you how to properly clean certain things. It took you double to time to clean the bathrooms, your coworkers knew it, so when you’d disappear for hours, they never questioned it.

You’d been in the men’s bathroom for almost an hour already. The bristles of the brush scrubbed the tile around the toilet, the sound being the only thing heard in the enclosed space. That and your deep breathing, exhaustion filling you after a long day of work, coupled with the ever growing redness on your sore knees. Your shoulders burned from scrubbing, and you were so focused on just finishing so you could clock out; finally go home.

You never heard anyone enter the bathroom, you were too focused. You only noticed you were no longer alone when the door to the stall gets pushed open. You jump up, not out of fear but by being startled. When you eject yourself from your kneeled position, you spin in place, turning to face whoever stumbled upon you. You’re relieved to see Thor Odinson, standing there with a calculating look.

“Mr. Odinson, forgive me, I will be finished in a second.” You say, assuming he wouldn’t want a woman in the men’s restroom while he uses it. Offering a smile out of curtesy, you hold it for a second too long, even after you don’t see any amusement appear on his face. You clear your throat, quickly returning to scrubbing the stall. One hand held the disinfectant while your other held the brush. You tried rushing, feeling his growing presence behind you.

“Just gotta wipe it down now, sir.” You give him reassurance that you’d be gone in a second. But that second never comes. You move to step around him, reaching for your cleaning cart that held the microfiber cleaning cloths. You’re too focused on hurrying and getting out that you don’t take note of how silent the gods being. How observant he is, watching every move you make.

Your hands were full, you couldn’t defend yourself. In an instant they were empty, the brush clattering to the floor. The spray bottle cracking upon impact, bleach spilling all over the floor in a growing puddle. Your hands were now pressed to the mirror of the sink vanity. Your cheek pressed there too, your eyes searched behind you for Thor, seeing the look on his face finally told you what you needed to know. He wasn’t even here, this is primal, instinctual, animalistic.

“Mr. Odinson, you know this isn’t allowed.” You try to calmly remind him. You were no fool, you knew the strength he held, you knew he was a god. You knew your position, you were nobody, a maid at best. You should be thinking of every reason to be grateful for this, instead you’re gasping for air as he presses it out of you, his body weight leaning on your from behind.

Thor doesn’t respond, he knows what he’s doing, whether or not it’s wrong is up for debate. What else was he supposed to do? He saw a woman on her knees and felt like he needed to do something about it. You’re just a maid, no one would even know, he is the god of thunder and a king, any woman is his if he wishes. He couldn’t even recall how many maids and ladies in waiting on Asgard who carried his bastard children.

To Thor, he was doing the right thing. Using the resources provided to him. And how rude would he be if he disregarded Starks resources. That’s why he doesn’t rip your uniform, he pushes it up around your hips, being sure to pull your tights down in one swift movement.

Your hands stayed planted on the mirror you had shined less than an hour ago. You don’t know why, but you knew better than to fight back, you knew better than to move. In any other position maybe you’d be flattered he’d took an interest in you; but this was…less than personal, it was just him getting his rocks off. You don’t doubt if it had been Rose or Serenity; the same sequence of events would’ve occurred.

You hear the sound of leather and metal clasps rustling behind you, and you close your eyes, numbing yourself for what’s about to happen. You thought you could do it, go limp, deaf, blind to what’s happening to you; the second the thick tip of his cock slid past the barrier your thighs created, you were dropping your hands from the mirror, reaching behind you to brace yourself.

You don’t understand that it’s an impossible feat. You could never brace for the searing pain that blossoms between your legs. You couldn’t even breathe, you were dry, but he didn’t seem to care, pushing past that barrier too. You felt your sensitive skin stretch around him, but when the relentlessness of him trying to shove himself to the hilt comes, you feel yourself tearing.

When you feel the tuft of hair at the base of his cock brush against your ass you know he’s bottomed out. You can’t feel it, after the first tear; your lower body clocked out. Only when his big hands wrap around your love handles, you can feel how gentle his hands are. No matter the pain he was inflicting, it was like he knew his hands would break your bones, bruise your skin.

He’s even has the curtesy to let you have some semblance of adjusting to him. You wanna laugh, but you can’t, the timeline of events only happening in less than two minutes. Your brain isn’t processing and comprehending what’s happening. Your brain was turning into complete mush, you were trying to convince yourself of two things; you didn’t want this, and you desperately wanted it. You were confused.

The confusion only intensifying when he leans down and brushed the hair from your shoulder, whispering behind your ear. “Good little maid.”. That shouldn’t have had the effect that it did, but here you were, pushing your body back slightly at the praise. Like you were doing something right by not protesting. You were good for not fighting back. Deserving because of your meekness.

He groaned when he felt you push back against him, knowing it meant you wanted it, even if you didn’t say it. But in the end, he didn’t really care what you thought, you were doing your job. Your duty.

He doesn’t notice the fog on the mirror from your shallow breaths, or the fact that you’re wet has mixed with blood from being torn. He just starts pumping in and out of you at a rhythmic pace. You wish you could feel it, but your body is still fighting to some degree, refusing to let you or him relish in this moment.

His pace picks up, causing you to raise yourself on your tiptoes, giving him as much access as he needs, making it easier for him to slam back into you every time he torturously pulls out to admire how you swallow him, the pink folds wrapping around him perfectly, like a set of lips, sucking him in.

He had been relatively silent, little grunts and that tiny comment of praise earlier, so it shocks you when he lets out a high pitched whine. “Fuck, stay just like that.” He exclaims, feeling the building tension in his balls come to an eruption. He mercilessly claps his stomach into your ass cheeks, the slapping sound echoing off the walls, and that’s it for you, finally giving up whatever you were holding onto.

Your pussy gushes over him, and you let out a strangled wail, “Please.” You beg, you knew your hole was obliterated, ruined, stretched and full, the only thing that could benefit you now was if you got to cum too. You heard him chuckle behind you. Actually laugh at your plea. As if you had no room to even speak and this was all his doing, for his pleasure.

Tears finally fill your eyes, but not for your situation, it’s over cumming. Your desperation becoming too much, you start rocking on your tiptoes, finding a friction that pleasured you so you could make yourself cum. Thor doesn’t seem to mind, glad you’re finally participating. He’s too close to care truly, the new found tightness of your walls desperately clenching down on him, was rushing him towards his undoing.

You’re no where near close when you hear the bathroom door swing open, cutting through the thick air and letting a cold wind sweep through the tiled room, the tears and sweat on your face drying instantly. You can’t even look who it is, the shame of being caught not finding you.

Thor of course carries no shame for what he’s doing, he does register the person, and their bewildered look, laughing again but not stopping his movement. “What the fuck are you doing?” You hear an angry Brooklyn accent. Your vision wasn’t completely there as you roll your head to face the door, your eyes finding Steve Rogers standing there, his shoulders rising and falling as his breath picks up.

You could just make out the confusion, the disgust, the shame on the Captains face as he looks at the cleaning supplies strewn around the floor, lifting his boot to see that he’d stepped in the spilled bleach. He places it back down and lets out a scoff or a huff, you were too delirious to tell.

“I am taking advantage of what’s been provided. You’re the one being disrespectful.” Thor says with no humor in his voice. He had slowed his movement, standing behind you pressed fully into you. With the captains invasion, your senses are slowly coming back, the feeling returning to your lower body. A burning sensation is slowly building, the tiny rips in your skin drawing attention from your pain receptors.

“Please…” You mutter again, but for a different reason, it was for mercy, mercy that maybe you’d be saved from this by Steve. But as your eyes watch his hand find the door handle, pushing it closed behind him, any ounce of hope you had in Steve was gone. He was slowly turning into that silent shark Thor was when he found you cleaning.

“Move.” Is the only command you hear from Steve before Thors slipping out of you. You could’ve crumbled to the floor the second he released you, but a new set on hands found your hips, raising you back up on your tiptoes. “Shhh, you’re doing such a good job.” Steve praises and you can’t comprehend what he’s doing till he’s pushing into your other hole, filling your ass up. He was much smaller than the inhuman god, but it didn’t take away from the soul wrenching feeling of him ass fucking you.

You were screaming, the pain Steve was inflicting completely different than what Thor had done. He didn’t take long to spill inside of you, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position, you could’ve laughed at him for how short he lasted, you expected more from him. But he’s probably never done anything like this before, the taboo of it causing him to lose control, the explosion coming from how dirty it made him feel.

When he slid out of you with a grotesque wet sound you almost let out a sigh of relief. Your body meeting the sink as he lets your hips down. The almost sigh is caught in your throat when you hear him say the words “Now you can finish.” to Thor. He buckles up his jeans and leaves the bathroom, not coming to your rescue at all, he didn’t even give you a second glance. You can only hear Thor’s amused hum as he comes back behind you, not relenting on you. If only you cleaned faster, then maybe Rose or Serenity would’ve noticed how long you’ve been cleaning the men’s restroom, maybe they would’ve come to your aid.

[societyfolklore]

Thunderstruck

Title: Thunderstruck (Prompt: fake dating becomes too real) Pairing: Dark!Thor x Female Reader

Summary: At the SHIELD NYE party, Thor jokingly claims the two of you are dating. The lie spirals out of control when people believe him, and he convinces you to keep up the charade.   Word Count:  5.5k

Warnings:  // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, smut, Dark, Dub/Con, Unprotected sex (DON’T!), Fingering, Oral (M receiving) NO BETA

A/N: Another entry for @the-slumberparty December daze challenge – Day 29.. Also haven’t written for Thor before so be gentle, he’s speaking style is hard for me

The SHIELD New Year’s Eve party was an annual spectacle, an event that seemed to grow more extravagant with each passing year. Hosted, as always, at Stark Tower, the venue was a breathtaking display of Tony Stark’s penchant for flair and excess. The massive atrium gleamed with shimmering silver and gold, reflecting the twinkling lights of an oversized crystal chandelier. Every surface seemed to sparkle, from the floor polished to a mirror shine to the massive clock projected onto the far wall, counting down the minutes until midnight.

The crowd was a sea of sophistication and celebration, filled with some of the world’s most brilliant minds and powerful figures. Avengers, fellow agents, scientists, dignitaries, and an assortment of Stark’s high-profile acquaintances mingled beneath the glittering decor. Glasses of champagne sparkled in the ambient light, the clink of crystal blending seamlessly with the lively hum of conversation and bursts of laughter. It was a night of indulgence, camaraderie, and for some, strategic networking.

It was also the last place you wanted to be.

Parties weren’t your thing. Crowded rooms, loud conversations, the unspoken pressure to be sociable-it all grated on your nerves. You’d much rather have spent the evening at home, wrapped in a cozy blanket, watching the New Year’s Eve ball drop on TV. But Natasha Romanoff had other ideas.

“Come on,” she’d said earlier that evening, standing in your apartment with her hands on her hips and a dress draped over one arm. “You’ve dodged this party for two years now. It’s time to show your face, have a little fun for once.”

“I have fun,” you’d protested weakly, clutching your favourite oversized sweater like a security blanket.

Natasha had merely smirked, shaking her head as if you were a particularly stubborn case she was determined to crack. “Sitting at home in pajamas eating takeout is not ‘fun.’ You’re coming with me. End of discussion.”

An hour later, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror in a dress that clung to your figure in ways that left you feeling vulnerable, if not outright exposed. It was sleek, elegant, and undeniably out of your comfort zone. Natasha, of course, looked effortlessly stunning in her own dress, her confidence as sharp as the blade she kept tucked in her thigh holster.

“Trust me,” she’d said, adjusting the straps of your dress and giving you an approving once-over. “You’ll thank me later.”

Now, standing by the bar with a drink in hand, you weren’t so sure. The room was alive with energy, but the glitz and glamour only heightened your discomfort. You nursed your drink, letting the cool glass anchor you as you scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Sam and Natasha were somewhere nearby, but the sheer volume of the party made it difficult to pinpoint them.

You weren’t sure what you were searching for-maybe a quiet corner to disappear into, or a conversation that didn’t feel forced. Anything to make the evening less overwhelming.

That’s when your gaze landed on him.

Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder, was impossible to miss. Towering over the crowd, he moved through the room with the kind of confidence that only someone truly larger than life could possess. His perfectly tailored suit emphasized his broad shoulders and powerful build, while the golden strands of his hair, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, gleamed like molten sunlight in the soft glow of the chandeliers. He was laughing, his rich, booming voice cutting effortlessly through the noise as he clapped Clint Barton on the back.

You rolled your eyes. Of course Thor was here. The man was practically a walking spectacle, his presence commanding attention wherever he went. His charm was undeniable, but his intensity was something else entirely-a force of nature that could be as overwhelming as the storms he commanded.

The last thing you wanted tonight was to get caught up in his orbit.

Turning back to your drink, you tried to focus on the glass in your hand and the low hum of the music. The God of Thunder had a way of pulling everyone into his gravitational pull, and you weren’t in the mood to be swept away. A conversation with Sam and Natasha, a quick hello to the logistics team, and then you’d slip out unnoticed. That was the plan.

Thor, it seemed, had other plans.

His approach felt like a coming storm even with that grin on his face as bright as the lights above.

“M’lady,” he boomed, his voice carrying over the music. “You grace this gathering with your presence! A most pleasant surprise.”

Your returning smile barely made it past polite the grip on your glass tightening. “Thor. Enjoying yourself?”

“Indeed,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with something you’d when your father had had one too many drinks at Thanksgiving. “Though the night grows even brighter in your company.”

Natasha arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Smooth, Odinson. Very smooth.”

Sam chuckled, elbowing you lightly. “Looks like someone’s got an admirer.”

Before you could respond, Thor’s gaze turned sharp, his grin widening as though he’d just had an idea. “Aye, perhaps they do. In fact…” He turned to the small group of agents nearby who had clearly been eavesdropping, their curiosity plain on their faces. “M’Lady and I are courting.”

The words hung in the air, and you froze, your mind racing in an attempt to process what he’d just said. Courting? Was he serious?

Nat and Sam exchanged glances, their interest immediately piqued. Natasha’s smirk grew, while Sam’s laughter erupted beside you.

“Wait-what?” you spluttered, turning to Thor with wide eyes. “We’re what?”

Thor looked down at you, his expression the picture of innocence. “A jest. To ward off prying eyes and overly curious admirers.”

You glared at him, heat rising in your cheeks. “That’s not funny.”

“It is effective,” he countered smoothly, his grin never faltering. “Unless you object?”

Before you could respond, Natasha stepped in. “You know what? I like it. Makes things interesting.”

“Agreed,” Sam added with a chuckle. “Let’s see how long it takes for the rumour mill to run wild.”

“Wait what?” Your cheeks flushed red, these people were supposed to be your friends and they were just…just turning you into some sort of joke? “Oh come on, it’ll be funny. Relax, no one is going to honestly believe it.” Part of you wasn’t sure if you should be offended by Natasha's remark or not.  You stood in stunned silence as suddenly Natasha and Sam were placing bets amongst themselves about who they could convince of this whole charade while you just felt yourself shrink up inside.

By the time the clock struck eleven, the entire room seemed to know about your supposed relationship with Thor. Everywhere you went, you caught whispers and sly smiles, agents and staff alike casting curious glances your way. Natasha and Sam were doing a fantastic job of helping things along. It was infuriating-and Thor wasn’t helping.

He played the part far too well. His hand found the small of your back whenever you were in reach, something he seemed to make sure you always where. His rich laughter carrying over the crowd as he introduced you as ‘His Lady’  He brought you drinks, engaged you in conversation, and even danced with you under the glittering lights, his touch firm yet gentle as he led you across the floor.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you muttered as he spun you effortlessly, his grin never fading.

“Immensely,” he admitted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “And you, my Lady, are a most excellent partner in deception.”

The words were harmless on the surface, but there was something in the way he said them, in the way his eyes held yours, that made your skin prickle. His usual warmth was still there, but beneath it lingered the quiet, unmistakable reminder of what he was-a god. Larger than life, overwhelming in both presence and charm, he exuded a kind of power that made him impossible to ignore.

“Thor,” you said softly, trying to pull back, but his hand slid to your waist, holding you steady.

“Yes, my Lady?” he replied, voice low and velvety, laced with amusement but also a weight that made your heart race. His grip was light enough not to alarm, but firm enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere unless he allowed it.

You wanted to argue, to tell him to cut it out, but the way he looked at you-those stormy eyes full of mischief, a sly curve to his lips-made it frustratingly difficult to form the words. It was still just a game, you told yourself, a bit of fun at your expense. But the intensity with which he played his part made it hard to shake the feeling that, joke or not, he was enjoying this far too much. And maybe, against your better judgment, a small, traitorous part of you was, too.

As the countdown to midnight began, the crowd pressed toward the massive clock projected onto the far wall, voices rising in anticipation. You seized the opportunity to slip away, weaving through the throng in search of refuge from the growing tension. But you barely made it a few steps before a hand caught your wrist, firm and unyielding, pulling you back.

“Leaving so soon?” Thor’s voice was low, rich, and tinged with an authority that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command attention.

You forced a lightness into your tone. “I thought I’d avoid the spectacle.”

He chuckled, a sound that rolled over you like distant thunder, his grip firm but not cruel. “Stay,” he said, his stormy blue eyes fixed on yours, an undercurrent of something almost possessive in their depths. “I cannot see the New Year without you.”

It wasn’t a request. It never was with him.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the crowd began the countdown, their voices swelling in unison. Thor’s gaze didn’t waver, the intensity of it rooting you in place, making you feel as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

“Ten! Nine!”

The noise of the crowd faded to a distant hum as Thor stepped closer, the heat of his presence washing over you. He loomed, his broad frame both sheltering and suffocating, his hand rising to cup your cheek. His touch was deceptively gentle, his thumb brushing against your skin with unnerving familiarity.

“Eight! Seven!”

“This is a bad idea,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. But even as you spoke, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, your body betraying you by leaning into him.

“Nonsense,” he said softly, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “I see no better idea.”

“Six! Five!”

The air seemed to thicken, the space between you vanishing as his face inched closer. His breath was warm against your lips, the promise of his kiss sending your pulse into a frantic rhythm.

“Four! Three!”

You should have stopped him. You should have walked away. But you didn’t. Couldn’t. The pull of him was as inevitable as the tide, a force of nature too powerful to resist.

“Two! One!”

His lips claimed yours, slow and deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world to remind you of just how much power he held. The kiss was consuming, a deliberate act of dominance wrapped in warmth, and it left no room for doubt-he was in control. The room erupted into cheers, but the sound barely registered over the pounding of your heart and the way his hands anchored you to the moment, unyielding yet careful, as if daring you to move.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze lingered on yours, his expression unreadable but charged with an intensity that made it impossible to breathe. His thumb brushed your cheek.

“Happy New Year, my lady.” “H-Happy New Year Thor.”  Had the kiss really left you so breathless? Thor’s smile widened at your stammered response, his hand lingering at your cheek for a moment longer than necessary. There was a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes-a god who knew the effect he had on you, who thrived on it. Before you could gather your thoughts, he stepped closer, his hand slipping to your waist.

“You look pale, my Lady,” he said, his voice soft but weighted with implication. “Perhaps some air would do you well.”

His hand slid down to your wrist, his grip as unyielding as iron. Before you could protest, he was already leading you away, his towering presence parting the crowd as effortlessly as a storm cutting through the sky. The other partygoers barely spared a glance, their laughter and chatter uninterrupted. To them, this was nothing more than a natural progression of what they believed to be an established relationship.

“Thor, wait-I’m fine,” you said, trying to pull back. Your protests were futile against the sheer strength of his grip, his pace steady and unrelenting.

“Nonsense,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder with a calm, almost amused expression. “You’ve given me your company all evening. It’s only fair I offer you mine.”

His words were smooth, his tone almost teasing, but there was no mistaking the finality in them. He wasn’t giving you a choice. The halls outside the party grew quieter as he led you away from the noise, his steps purposeful. You felt your heart pounding, the reality of the situation sinking in with every passing second.

“Thor, people will talk-”

“Let them,” he interrupted, his voice a low rumble that silenced any further argument. “They already believe what they wish. It changes nothing.”

By the time you realized where he was leading you, it was too late. The door to his room loomed ahead, and with a swift motion, he opened it, pulling you inside before closing it behind him. The lock clicked, the sound loud and final in the quiet of the room.

You turned to face him, breathless and unsure, your mind racing for something-anything-to say. But Thor was already moving, his broad frame advancing on you with the same quiet confidence he’d displayed all evening. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, his strength impossible to resist.

“Do not fear, my Lady,” he murmured, his tone softer now but no less commanding. His thumb brushed over your hip, the heat of his touch bleeding through the fabric of your dress. “You are mine tonight.”

“Thor, wait-” The protest fell from your lips as his hands found your waist again, his grip firm but not bruising. His sheer presence was overwhelming, an undeniable reminder of his power, of his dominance. He loomed over you, his piercing gaze fixed on yours, as though daring you to resist.

“My Lady, you deserve so much more then to be just a silly joke.” he said softly, his voice like the distant roll of thunder. His hand moved to cup your chin, tilting your face upward. “You spent the evening by my side, all out there believe this to be-”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours, not kissing you but letting the anticipation build, the air between you thick and charged. Your heart raced, a mixture of defiance and something darker, something you couldn’t bring yourself to name.

“Thor-this… this isn’t-”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. His smile was faint, predatory. “No need for words, my Lady. Let me show you how a god worships.”

Before you could reply, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms, his strength undeniable. You gasped, your hands instinctively clutching his shoulders, but he didn’t falter. Instead, he carried you further into the room, the door a forgotten barrier behind you. Your protests felt small, swallowed by the sheer force of his presence, the intensity in his gaze as he laid you down on the bed as though you belonged there.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a velvety growl as he traced a finger along your jawline. “Do not fret, I will not break you-”

Your cheeks burned, and you turned your head, but his hand caught your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His expression softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place before the hunger returned.

His hands moved with purpose, trailing down your sides as he leaned over you, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The heat of his breath sent shivers down your spine, his kisses deliberate, claiming. Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch even as your mind screamed at you to stop this, to push him away. But he was unrelenting, his hands exploring, his lips pulling soft gasps and reluctant whimpers from your throat.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “The pull between us. You cannot deny it.”

His lips found yours again, this time deeper, more consuming. His hands roamed with a purpose that left no room for doubt-he wasn’t going to stop, and you weren’t sure you wanted him to.

Thor’s lips descended on yours again, harder this time, with the weight of a storm behind them. There was no hesitance in his actions, no room for second-guessing. His hand slid up your thigh, you wanted to protest, to push him away, but who were you to deny a god.

“Thor, please,” you whispered, though even you weren’t sure if it was a plea for him to stop or to continue.

His thumb brushed over your lower lip again, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of heat through you. The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth told you he had decided the answer.  His lips found the hollow of your throat, kissing and biting gently, enough to make you gasp and arch against him.

“It’s alright-” he murmured, his voice a deep growl that sent shivers down your spine.

His fingers brushed against the edge of your underwear, a featherlight touch that made you tense beneath him. He paused, his stormy blue eyes locking onto yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. “You’re trembling again,” he said softly “So sensitive.”

You couldn’t answer; your voice had abandoned you. Thor didn’t wait for a response, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric, finding your heat with an ease that made your breath hitch. He explored you with deliberate slowness, his touch skilled and confident, as though he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

“Do you see now?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “Even Gods are gentle.”

Your protests, feeble and half-hearted, were swallowed by the overwhelming intensity of his actions. His fingers moved expertly, drawing soft gasps and whimpers from you despite your attempts to stifle them. The tension in the room thickened, his dominance palpable as he claimed every inch of your focus, leaving no room for thought, no space to resist.

When he finally withdrew, his hand moved to his belt, the sound of the buckle unfastening sharp in the quiet room. His gaze never left yours, and the weight of it pinned you in place, making your breath catch as he bared himself before you.

“I will show you what you deserve,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous promise. “And you will thank me for it.”

Thor’s hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed as he positioned himself, his movements slow and deliberate, giving you no time to process, no room to escape.

You couldn’t even remember him telling you to open your mouth as you felt him push past your lips his length filled your mouth, the head of his arousal brushing against the back of your throat. You felt a surge of panic, your body instinctively trying to pull back, but his hands gripped your shoulders, holding you in place.

“No, no- stay for me.” His eyes burned with intensity, watching you as he slowly began to move, his hips rocking back and forth. The sensation was overwhelming, his length stretching your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You felt a gag reflex rising, but he seemed to sense it, his movements slowing, his eyes never leaving yours. He leaned in closer, his voice a low growl,

"You will learn, just relax, breath deep.” His words of coaching praise filling the while his hands moved, one releasing your shoulder to grasp your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat. Thors’s eyes flashed with hunger as he began to move again, his thrusts slow and deliberate, filling your mouth with each stroke. You felt your body responding, your lips and tongue working to accommodate him, your throat relaxing to take him deeper, tears pricking at your eyes. “That’s it, good girl.”

The sound of his breathing filled the air, his groans low and husky, as he moved, his hips rocking back and forth. His eyes never left yours, burning with intensity, as he claimed your mouth, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, your body responding to his touch, as he took you, surly it was the champagne going to your head and not the act of being used like this that made your pussy soak the fabric between legs.

It had to be? Not the way texture of his skin smooth felt, the taste of him salty and musky seemed to make your head spin. The Gods veins pulsing against your tongue, his arousal throbbing with each beat of his heart and it seemed to match the way your own cunt now throbbed. His hands held you in place, his grip firm but not bruising, as he moved, his thrusts slow and deliberate, filling your mouth with each stroke.

As he moved, his tip hit the back of your throat, sending a surge of pleasure through your body. You felt your lips and tongue working to accommodate him, your throat relaxing to take him deeper. His eyes flashed with hunger, his gaze burning with intensity, as he claimed your mouth, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Suddenly, he pulled out, his length slipping from your lips, leaving you gasping for air. His eyes never left yours, burning with intensity, as his hand brushed through your hair and stroked your neck, "Not yet, my sweet lady..” His finger played with the straps of your dress, a you felt a shiver run down your spine. “I think it’s time this found my floor.”

Your hands didn’t move fast enough as he waited for you to comply. "Take it off," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I want to see you." Slowly reached up, your hands grasping the straps, and slid them down your shoulders. The dress fell away, moving so it the fabric was left in a pool on the floor.

Thor's gaze roamed over your body, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He seemed to savor every curve, every contour, his eyes burning with hunger, no one looked at you like that. As he took you, he began to strip, his movements slow and deliberate. Removing his already unfastened pants, letting them fall to the floor, and then reached up, pulling his shirt over his head.

You couldn't help but stare at him, his body a masterpiece of muscle and strength. His chest was broad, his shoulders wide, and his abdomen rippled with definition. His arousal jutting out from his body still wet in places from your mouth. He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to grasp your hips. His fingers slid under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down, leaving you as naked as him. While his face expression nothing but adoration, you had never felt so vulnerable, so small.

His hands moved, one grasping your hip, holding you in place, while the other slid down, his fingers brushing against your core. You felt a jolt of pleasure, your body responding to his touch, as he slid a thick finger inside you, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“That’s it, relax.”

He added another finger, his touch deliberate, stretching you open. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, your body responding to his touch, but even like this you felt overwhelming.  his movements slow and deliberate. His fingers moved, preparing you for him, pushing against your walls, as he watched you taking in your face as blood rushed to your cheeks as he went to add a third.

“Thor, I-this is too much-”

“Too much? I have barely begun, my Lady. And you will take all of it. You are not used to such worship that is all. You do not need to run from pleasure.”

He pressed his lips into your swallowing the whimper as he made his third digit slid in with the others, the sting around your entrance almost enough to cause tears. You wanted to protest but it was lost again when his thumb brushed against your clit, sending a surge of pleasure through your body. You felt yourself arching into his touch, your hips rising to meet his hand now, as he stretched you open. Thor pulling back a pleased smile on his face at your response to him.

“See? Eager for it now aren’t you?”  His thumb pressed harder again taking the ach away his fingers caused.   Thor’s pleased smile deepened as he watched you writhe beneath him, his thumb circling your clit with calculated precision. The tears threatening to spill from your eyes didn’t seem to bother him-in fact, they only seemed to encourage him. His other hand rested possessively on your hip, holding you in place as he continued his deliberate assault on your senses.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice low and rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “How perfectly your body mold’s to my touch.  I will teach you to cherish it.”

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, the pleasure blurring the edges of your thoughts and stealing the words from your lips. His fingers worked inside you, stretching and teasing, coaxing your body to open for him even as the sting lingered. The wetness coming from you now seemed to please him more.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a rumble of satisfaction. “I will worship you here and you will give me yourself in return.”

You shivered at his words, a mix of defiance and submission warring within you. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me, do you feel it? The way your body craves what only I can give you? There’s no shame in surrendering to a god.  I’ve seen how you all look at me. I will make more then the joke they all thought you to be.”

You couldn’t form a response, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as your hips moved against his hand, chasing the relief his touch promised. He smile widening, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You’re ready...” Withdrawing his fingers suddenly and leaving you gasping at the emptiness. “And you’ll take me beautifully.”

Before you could process his words, Thor shifted, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider. The weight of his arousal pressed against your entrance, hot and unyielding, as he positioned himself.

“Thor-wait, I-” The words came out in a rush, but he silenced you with a kiss, his lips demanding and consuming. The stretch was immediate and overwhelming as he entered, your body fighting to adjust to his sheer size. The sharp sting from his fingers was nothing to this, yet you could not deny that under all the sharp pain pleasure thrummed.

“Thor-” you gasped against his lips, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice dark and soothing as he stilled for a moment, giving you a chance to adjust. “Feel me, little one. All of me. Do not fight it-you are made to take this, I know you can.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to breathe through the intensity, but Thor’s hands never faltered, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips as though he was calming a restless storm. “Good,” he rumbled, his tone almost reverent. “You’re doing so well. Let yourself feel it. Accept it.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin.  You whimpered in response, unsure if the sound came from the lingering ache or the undeniable pull of his presence. He began to move, slow and deliberate, his body pressing deeper into yours with each measured thrust. Every inch of him demanded your focus, filling you so completely that it left no room for thought, no space to question.

“I-Thor, I-” The words dissolved into a gasp as he shifted, his angle driving deeper, sparking a wave of sensation that stole the air from your lungs.

“Shhh,” he soothed, his hand sliding up your body to cup your jaw. “You don’t need words, my Lady. Let your body speak for you.”

He claimed you with an unrelenting rhythm, his movements slow and controlled, as though he was savoring every second. His free hand trailed down to your clit, his thumb brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just enough pressure to send sparks shooting through your body. Your hips bucked against him involuntarily, a soft cry escaping your lips.

“See?” he murmured, his voice a low growl of approval. “Your body knows, trust yourself.”

The praise was intoxicating, and despite yourself, you felt your walls clenching around him, your body betraying the conflict in your mind. Thor’s smile deepened, his dominance radiating in every deliberate thrust. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and overwhelming, a contradiction that left you breathless. His pace quickened slightly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the pleasure building with an intensity that threatened to consume you entirely. You started to get lost in the feeling now, his strength was undeniable, as his hips pushed up and into you. His commanding dominance absolute, outside that room ceased to exist. It was only him-his touch, his voice, his overwhelming presence-consuming you entirely.

Thor’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he anchored you in place, each thrust deliberate and unrelenting. His movements left no room for resistance, no space to think beyond the way he filled you, the way he moved against you with a precision that made your body betray every doubt you had.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice a dark rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very core. “The way your body bends to me, yields to me..”

You couldn’t answer, your breaths coming in ragged tight pants as his pace intensified, the sound of his skin meeting yours filling the room. Your body felt as though it was on fire, every nerve alive under his touch, your felt every vein drag against slick velvet walls. Every move from him sparked new sensation, this was what it was to be taken by a God.

“Thor,” you gasped, his name slipping from your lips.

“That’s it,” he said, his tone shifting into something almost tender, though it was lust clouding though normally clear blue eyes of his. “Say my name.”

The circling on your clit just enough to make your hips buck involuntarily against him. He growled softly, his hand sliding up your body to press against your stomach, holding you firmly in place as he drove deeper. God you felt him in your stomach as he tip nudged against your cervix.

The room felt smaller, hotter, his presence overwhelming every corner as he pulled you closer to the edge. Your cunt tightens around him, the pleasure building to a point that left you gasping for air, your mind spinning as he continued to push you further. The intensity of it was almost too much, yet not enough, your body caught in a storm you couldn’t escape-and didn’t want to.

His thumb pressing harder against your clit as his thrusts grew more forceful, more deliberate. “Do not fight it. I feel you, so tight for me, so wet.”  

His words broke something inside you, the final push that sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, a cry escaping your lips as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling and gasping beneath him. Thor didn’t stop, his pace unrelenting as he chased his own release, his growls deepening, the sound raw and primal.

When he finally reached his peak, he buried himself fully, his body stiffening as a guttural groan tore from his throat. His hands gripped you tightly you knew your bruise. The room fell silent save for the sound of your ragged breaths and his low murmurs of satisfaction. His weight pressed against you, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers brushed against your cheek. “You see now, my Lady,” he said softly, his voice dark but strangely soothing. “You are not joke to me, I meant it when I declared you mine.”

[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.

[darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor]

Pent Up Masterlist

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

[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]

[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.”  

[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.

[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]

Pent Up 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

Note: It's an addiction now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'I never thought I'd be writing to someone like you, but you've shown me a different side of things. I hope that my emails give you comfort and can help you through. Even on the other side, they get me through my day. I'm always excited to read when there's a ding in my inbox.

I hope you also enjoy the little bit I could put in your commissary. If I lived closer, maybe I could bring you something homemade. At the moment, bus fare is a bit too much for my pockets.

Anyway, signing off.

Yours,

Diamond'

You add a whole line of heart emojis to the email then hit send. You giggle and click on the next. You don't have the heart to copy and paste so you add a bit of variety to the next.

This one is... Thor? That's his name. He's a funny one. Considering he's in the pen, you're surprised by that. The others are so dire; pushy too.

You hit reply on his last email. Something about a fight and apologising for not replying earlier. He says he was in solitary for a whole week. That sounds miserable. The thought is enough to scare you straight. It's why you've never done anything wrong in your whole life. Until now.

It's not really wrong. It's allowed. It's legal. You're just sending messages. If anything, it's a community service. These men don't have much more contact than each other and that's a recipe for chaos.

You won't admit that other reason aloud. That tickly feeling in your stomach. When they compliment you, when they say they missed you. You can't help but smile, even giggle sometimes. It's nice to be appreciated, even if it's all a fantasy.

You'll never meet these men. That's the fun part. You don't have to worry about any of this. Maybe that helps. Maybe you think too much when you're face-to-face. That explains why every cute guy you talk to sees past you.

'I forgive you, sweetie. It must have been so hard in there. The important thing is you replied. I got so worried! I hope that after all that, my email can bring a bit of comfort. I have to be honest, I never thought I'd be chatting with someone like you. That I could find this type of connection. Please, take care and email soon.'

Another parade of emojis follows and you send it off happily. Now you just have to wait and see who gets back to you first. If it's Ernie, you're not sure you'll respond. He's been fixated on his cell mate and his emails are getting a bit scary. That's the other great part. You can always just delete and block.

The response comes an hour later. You're sleepy and ready to pass out. You read it anyway.

'You are so kind, my queen.' You giggle. Yeah, he calls you that sometimes. If only he knew you were sitting in bed with an ice cream sandwich wrapper and your cell phone. Definitely not queenly behaviour. 'I got through it by thinking of you, of dreaming of the day when we can talk face-to-face. Wouldn't that be lovely? For all my mistakes, I think they will mean something if you and me can be together.'

You make a face. He's so cheesy. You can't help but laugh again. You're not trying to be cruel, you do empathise with his situation, you can't imagine being in prison, but like anyone else, he earned his time. There's one last light.

'If it isn't too much trouble, would you kindly send a picture so I have a face to admire in my lonelier moments? I've attached my own. Forgive me as it dates a few years back.'

You're not smiling anymore. You haven't sent any of the men pictures. They haven't offered theirs but you can look up their mug shots easily. You hate to ruin the fantasy but curiosity has you tapping the attachment.

Oh. You're surprised. He's older than you in this picture and by his own confession, is more so now. But he isn't repugnant. Anything but. Tall, blond, thick! You don't know if you've ever seen a man that size.

Even in a suit, it's obvious that his arms are bulging and his chest is ripe to burst out as the jacket button clings for dear life. The photo is cropped so that whoever he took it with is out of frame. His blue eyes sparkle above a defined smile. Has prison worn down all that?

You squirm. Guilt needles in your chest. You could close out and worry about it in the morning. You shouldn't be that sympathetic. He's still a criminal. You can say no. Easily. What's he going to do about it?

What could it hurt? If he saw your face. It's not like anyone would know. That anyone would recognise you or that he could find you anywhere else. You keep your social media anonymous. You aren't like the influencers who get attention just for being pretty.

It's that that gives you pause. You aren't anything but average. It's easier to pretend you're some pretty thing as you message these faceless men. Well, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe once he sees you, you won't have to worry about all that other stuff. He'll cut you off at the pass.

The thrill of it overwhelms your reluctance. It's like gambling, it could go either way.

You start a new message. More meaningly rewording of previous sentiments. Nothing new. Then you scroll through your photo roll. You take a breath and press down on a photo you think isn't half bad. It's from market day you went to with your aunt. Not exactly cutting edge but fun. She snuck in the shot as you smiled down at your gooey cinnamon roll. The impromptu snap is better than most of your posed ones.

You send and quickly lock the phone. You shove it under your pillow and swipe up the wrapper beside you. You leave it on your night stand and sink down, your insides swimming with anxiety. You're going to regret this in the morning.

🎀

'Will you call me?'

The question makes you sweat. You don't know why you feel bad. You've said no before. To him. To all of them. You draw a thick line between your secret little hobby and your real life. You shouldn't have ever sent that photo.

Despite your regret, you smile. His response was more than you could expect. The praise! You don't know that anyone ever even called you cute but he as good as wrote you a poem about your beauty. You have to remind yourself, given his circumstance, he's starved. He'd probably think your nan is sexy.

Still, you're having a hard time typing those two letter; N-O. Thor is so nice. And he asked so sweetly. But you can't do that. What if someone found out?

This whole thing is starting to feel like a big mistake, but it's so much fun. When in your life will men ever be this into you? When have they ever?

'I could call' you type without thinking. What are you doing? 'Let me know how to do that and we can set a time maybe.'

Don't hit send. Don't hit send.

Email sent.

Shit. Oh gosh. Why did you do that?

You close your laptop and leave it on your desk. You need to get ready for work. You can't be worrying about a man you'll never meet. It's all virtual, it's not real. You'll be okay.

You get yourself together and brace yourself for work. You don't really like your job. You work the counter at a tech repair shop. Independent so it's small and slow. Your boss is a bit strange too.

The only benefit is it's close and it pays a few bucks more than the alternative. You're even allowed to work on your online courses at the service desk. Really, it's perfect. You guess you're just not happy with things being boring.

You blow over the lid of your Sailor Moon travel mug and knock on the door. Jensen lets you in with a grin and stifles a yawn in his elbow. You step past him with a sheepish smile.

"If it isn't the champion of justice," he greets smugly and locks the door. You won't open for another half hour.

"Huh?" You go to the counter and slide your bag onto the shelf underneath.

"Your cup," he crosses the shop. “I am Sailor Moon, the champion of justice. In the name of the moon, I will right wrong and triumph over evil… and that means you!”

"Oh, right," you snort at his cheesiness. "You have espresso or something?"

"Red bull," he admits guiltily.

"This early?"

"Early? I never went to sleep," he comes around and goes back to typing on his glowing gaming computer. "Couldn't let my crew down."

You could roll your eyes. All he does is play Fortnite or Halo. He looks like he does too. Yet, he's in here moping after every rare stunner that walks through the door. That's why you'er there. He gets all tongue-tied with women. Well, all of them but you.

"You should join the party," he suggests.

"Well, I don't really play anymore," you shrug. "It was only for fun. My siblings... like it."

"Oh yeah, how's the family?"

"Good, I guess. They don't really call."

Your mom's too busy rebuilding her life with your step-dad. Rather, building the perfect life she never had. You sigh and open up your laptop. You grab your coffee and sip. You're tired of being forgotten.

"Jake," you say, he winces at the use of his first name, "Jensen," you glance at him, "you're a dude."

"Yeah, I am" he answers uncertainly.

"Well, you might know more than I do. You know anyone in prison? Any guys?"

"What?" He exclaims. "Where did that come from?"

"Mm... I was watching a documentary last night," you lie. "About prison or whatever."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, and about you know," you sway and look at your laptop. You're terrible at lying. "The women who like write to them or whatever."

"Ew, like the Ted Bundy weirdos?" He scoffs.

"Not exactly. I mean, none of them were murderers. I think," you shrug. "But... like, if you were in prison, you'd need that, right? I mean, it's just to get you through."

"I don't know. It'd be lonely, yeah, but like... what about after?" He scratches his neck. "I got a buddy who was in for a while but he's a good dude. He was only selling... stuff."

"Really?" You perk up, "he went to prison?"

"Well, he doesn't like to talk about it," Jensen says. "Why are you talking about this?"

"Making conversation. I was just thinking about the show," you sign into your laptop. "Just thinking... I mean, how do you even end up there?"

"Bad things. I learned my lesson when I was sixteen. I broke into the high school on a dare and the cops put me in cuffs for two hours. They let me go once I cried... I mean, I was a kid so..."

You nod and try not to show any judgment. That sounds about right. A notification pops up in the corner as Jensen goes back to the fluttering over his keyboard. You click on the email.

'I've been granted call-time at noon. You can call the number below and request by my inmate number...'

You quickly minimize and hide behind your cup as you slurp. Shoot. You didn't think he'd be so fast. A call at noon? You can't say no. Not now that he got approved.

Well, this is the only time it's happening.

[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

[chappellsroans]

#and yet, he became the tree of life

[thehydraethereal]

still available! ♡♡

⋆⁎✽๛ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 --- for requests

෴ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: This content is dark and very triggering. Minors and easily triggered people, do not interact. Your mental health matters. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

෴ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND DARK ONLY. My requests are now OPENED. You can request as many fictions as you want, but you have to check out my CHARACTERS LIST and my WARNINGS first. IF YOU ARE ANON, USE AN EMOJI, SO WE CAN TALK MORE <3. Request via my INBOX. Please, also write a short summary of your ideas, do not just send in the number of the promp and the character. Thank you.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 I will use for these: Choking; chasing kink; Dacryphilia (tear kink); fear kink; dv + heavy violence; restraints; manhanding and others. Please choose a few in your request.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

"I don’t remember asking what you wanted, sweetheart." (2)

"You can cry if you want. Won’t change a damn thing." (3)

"That’s the problem with you. You never fucking listen." (4)

"Go ahead. Tell me no again." (5)

"You move, and I promise it’ll be worse." (6)

"I told you to sit down. Don’t make me say it twice." (7)

"You think I give a fuck if you’re scared?" (8)

"I liked you better when you knew your place." (9)

"You’re only still breathing because I let you." (10)

"See how quiet you can be after I slap you around?" (11)

"You can beg if you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop." (12)

"Do I look like a man who’s gonna change his mind?" (13)

"At least make yourself useful, baby." (14)

"You act like I haven’t done this before." (15)

"If you were strong enough to stop me, angel, you would have by now." (16)

"C'mon, baby, don't cry...we haven't even started." (17)

"I'll destroy your pretty face of yours if you do that again." (18)

"Come here. Now." (19)

"I'd suggest you returned because if I catch you...you won't like what I'll do to you." (20)

[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

[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)

[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

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