Warnings: noncon, mdni, cumming inside, unprotected p in v, cervix kissing, yandere, emotional manipulation, coercion, guilt-tripping, dd:dne, if you're uncomfortable with such content, filter the tags or block my blog, stay safe!
Yandere Boyfriend! who would noncon you over and over again, apologizing everytime and promising you that he won't do it again.
Of course, he doesn't mean it.
He feels sorry for hurting you, but he doesn't like it when you push him away, something inside him snaps everytime you deny him, he loses all control.
What do you mean you're not in the mood? Do you not love him?
What do you mean you got your period? It doesn't matter, you're saying it because you hate him right?
It hurts? Well guess what? It hurts him more because you're denying him of the ultimate act of love!
He doesn't like it at all.
So before anything else can leave your mouth, he's already intruding into your hole, burying his cock inch by inch, raw. You could feel the way it uncomfortably stretches you, the burning sensation escalating with every thrust.
Your cunt contracts around his cock as he growls into your ear, small gasps escaping his mouth as he fucks you deeply, his tip slamming against your cervix.
It's painful, it hurts, it burns.
Tears escape your eyes at the sensation, just waiting for him to be done with you. He licks your tears away, dragging his wet tongue across your cheek before pressing a kiss to your mouth.
His other hand dips down between your legs, finding your clit and rubbing circles on it to make it feel good for you too.
One thing about him is that he will always make sure you get to finish too. Is he an extremely selfish person? Yes, but not when it comes to this, he mainly does this because he loves the way your walls contract and flutter around him.
This is also usually the time the anger and everything dissipates, he comes back to his senses and feels guilty when he notices your painful expression, he begins to panic, but his hips don't stop moving, in fact, they speed up.
“i'm sorry— mhm fuck—!” The obscene sound of skin slapping continues to echo in the air. “I'm sorry baby, I dont— I don't like doing this! Please— oh fuck fuck— please forgive me.” He begs, all while his fingers work faster around your clit. He leans down, sucking on your tits.
It doesn't take long for you to finish, especially after he's basically forcing an orgasm out of you by stimulating you.
“I— please forgive me darling, i wont do it again— I lost control, I'm so sorry, I promise, please please please please.” He cries out gasping when he feels your cunt clench and contract around him. His hips piston and drill into your cunt sloppily, a tell-tale sign that he's near, and as if on cue, he cums.
He empties himself deep inside you, ropes of cum directly shooting against your cervix, while he rides his orgasm out and not long after collapses on top of you.
He switches positions, pulling you against him as he cuddles you, arm wrapped around your head and one gently patting your back as he assures you, calming your shaking and crying form.
“I'm sorry baby, it must've been scary right? I don't know what came over me.. it just happened. Please don't hate me. Please. Please.” His voice cracks, genuine emotion coating his words.
“I'm really sorry okay? I try not to, but I just can't—” He sniffs, before reaching down and burying his face into your neck, as if he is the one that needs comfort. “—just can't help myself, I promise I won't do it again. You'll forgive me right? Please.” His voice is muffled, but still clear and you could hear the guilt.
Of course, you forgive him.
You have to, you don't have any other choice, because if you don't— he'll get mad again.
This is the 4th time it happened this week alone, and it's only Wednesday.
You don't have a choice at all, you lost the freedom to have it ever since the day you decided to start dating him.
— yuta okkotsu, izuku midoriya, yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, gojo satoru, choso kamo + your fave, feel free to imagine any chara you want!
Sorry for the delays loves!! A bitch is almost done w high school so y’all know imma start crawling back to all of you 🥴 Get ready for a huge spam bc ive never had free time like this. Anyways, on w the show!
-If he falls for you before or soon after his banishment to earth, you are completely fucked
-Literally
-He’ll try to court you the Asgardian way in the beginning. Only the fairest of the Midgardians deserves such an honor. Why are you blushing and scooting away?
-If you have been ungrateful enough to reject his advances, Thor will be at a loss
-He has offered you a title, his land, his heart! You could have the nine realms at your fingertips by his side yet you push him away at every chance
-It’s not his fault that his mere presence makes you nervous. It’s not his fault that you leave all the flowers, all the exotic presents he brings you at the door.
-He still follows you though, a silent presence looming over you just waiting to snatch you up
-Thor is not a patient man. Make him wait too long and he’ll have you pressed into a wall with him grinding up into you
-You wouldn’t be in this position if you had just accepted him and his love
-How can you not see that you belong with him?! You are a misplaced goddess, with midgardians taking advantage of you left and right
-No, your place is with him
-His hands will be seared on you the moment you’re in his grasp. This god will not leave you untouched, even for a second
-Throne Room? He’ll have a strong grip on your thigh as the both of you are decked out in Asgardian finery as you lounge on his lap on the gilded seat. Battle ground? You bet your ass you’ll be forced to wait in his tent as he’s waging bloody war, coming back to you dripping in enemy blood as he lays the days frustrations onto your soft body.
-He will be soft if you give him the opportunity. You are his beloved, the reason why his heart beats aside from serving his people. No gesture of romanticism will be too grand, rather it won’t be worthy enough in his eyes.
-Just let him love you. Unless you plan on death, there is no escape.
Could you write something about Thor from gow as a yandere? Shooting my shot on getting my chubby man 😅Thank you
— Yandere HCs of Thor Odinson
Warnings: Yandere behavior, GN! Reader, unhealthy relationship, kidnapping & stalking, heavy alcoholism, details of depression, suicide thoughts(?), and violence (not at the reader).
A/N: Deeply wanted to post this first before Freya’s! Hole you enjoy, anon <3
While alcohol is one of Thor’s bad habits, you assuredly beat top—keep his rare, sober self clean as he desperately awaits your approval. Inhaling your words like oxygen itself. His obsession is a deep, instinctive, and inescapable type of devotion; a need to be near you, protect you, to ensure above all that nothing can ever take you away from him. Being heavily steered into violence if challenged. But, sharing a hold so faint, a ghost of touch, his fingers tracing the inner of your jaw, acting as if he hadn’t killed someone for you.
Of course, it’s shown that the mead is his support. His backbone. His stability. Swishing those complicated and oppressed feelings down his ragged throat. Drinking away every issue, every single regret, every beaten doubt he has about himself. It’s indeed the best way to enjoy the rest of his solaced evening.
The burning sensation of the ale never bothers him, but somehow, you do—you always have, and you forever will.
His eyes lay upon you from across the noisy tavern, an aura so different in the realm of Asgard. Lungs burning, a feeling of hazy butterflies spreading through his chest. Slurs of hiccups that nobody but you can understand. His eyes sharpened, watching how you loudly challenge for a drinking contest, boasting how you could outdrink anyone. And that itself, made him belly out a chilling chuckle. One that could be heard and felt. An ordinary challenge taken to the bone with Thor. It’s a go-to activity he looks forward to almost daily.
Or seeing you, the sweet, kind, and swelling type of person that rarely ever bothers him. Allowed him to drink alone, yet offered him a shoulder to babble on when needed. You didn’t treat him any less of a person, nor talk him down– like All Father did. Still, you willingly choose not to. It amazed him then, and it still amazes him now.
Sure, the amount of mead he consumed was certainly concerning, but you never outright said it. The look in your eye gave it away. A gaze tighter, lines around your eyes more pronounced; a faint, almost imperceptible crease formed between your brows. Blinking less often when he slurred his words, right until he mumbled on—an easy, gliding scenario sat beside each other to where he finally opened up one night. Vulnerability spilling out. Admitting just how miserable it is to be alone; have a strained relationship with his only daughter; and how lonely and angry he felt. Everything had gone to shit, especially with his two boys.
He knew the actions he chose were more than horrible and the chances of him making it up were low. You didn’t need to remind him, as everyone did.
Instead, you chose not to, teaching him that despite how big a mistake, it will get better. He can be better, a force of hope. Comforting him and nodding along with no unnecessary advice. No side-eyeing. Never offering solutions until he asks– always ends up with those eyes staring. A blue that didn’t soothe, but burned. Sharp as lightning, sizzling your skin that stuns your every move. Catch your breath still.
And each time his irises bore into your soul, you can feel the intensity of it. Harrowing through the back of your skull, the sort that raises gooseflesh on the nape of the neck. The room goes quiet as he calls your name, grumbling and motioning you to sit next to him. It’s an invitation that sends shivers down your spine.
Everyone knows his infatuation, yet, nobody dares mention it. Not even your friends. His reputation is threatening, just as his height. Direct as his gaze and hair-raising touch.
Even when Heimdall may mention something, the crack in his jaw is enough to halt the galling God. Beginning to tease before being shut down by Odin himself. All-Father knows how important your presence is to Thor, and despite his own opinion, the ignorant fool is smart enough not to mess with you. Even when he wants you gone, out of the picture, your entire presence is important. You let the ginger function, and that alone, is a tool for All-Father. Even if it is obvious, you are a threat.
And despite what you understand, your opinion matters more than anyone. Better than his own father. Far better than Sif. Truly more hypnotizing than Thrúd. Surpassing Kratos ever did when he tried fighting him. That look in your eye, has him grasping for your touch, begging for you to do anything but hate him.
It’s when you ask a favor, that he breathes out the sentence—I love you—like it’s him against the world. Staring at you like you’ve changed him and in so many ways, you have. You don’t make him feel like a burden; treat him as a weapon. But view Thor, as a man, not a God. Perhaps even your man. Your husband and beloved.
The first kiss is frenzied, desperate, and so earnest. It’s rumbling like a storm. Heavy with all the things he can’t say out loud. Thor’s lips meet yours, holding you so closely. The soft but prickly beard brushes against your chin and cheeks. Fingers digging into your hips, his breathing ragged and irises following your every twitch. He doesn’t move, until you do—a reassurance strong in his mind—fingers caressing your cheek, blunt nails tracing small shapes. Never letting go, until you choose to do it.
Though, your choices also count in how your future plays. By chance, you decline his devotion, he’s far broken. Angry. Surely embarrassed to think that of course, you would indulge him in marriage. How foolish of him, yes?
In reaction, Thor’s emotions are erratic, just as your public appearance. You disappear out of the blue. Belonging still, as if they hadn’t been touched in days, and waiting for you. Pets are just as gone, ideal food, and dishes taken. Everyone assumes the worst, but can’t do anything—Thor just chuckles at your friend’s worries, snapping at them that you are well and safe. Thrúd assures them that you are happily her step-parent, the greatest person in the world. Your old life is merely meaningless, now.
Life in Asgard is incredibly smothering. Thor doesn’t know how to hold back– not in a fight, not in bed, not in love. Everything is overwhelming, a fear of you leaving deeply imprinted in his brain, being a hovering shadow. Even if you were to use the bathroom, he's right behind you. Someone unrecognizable approaching you has his thumbs wrapped around his hammer. Tightening as they engage with you more, jealousy fuels his entire being. His shadow, despite your height, looms over the two of you. Grunting in response as they leave, asking what they want, and how it is associated with you. His shift in weight creaks the floorboards, a constant reminder that privacy is nonexistent.
Despite that, you’re allowed to have friends and family. He doesn’t isolate you, completely.
It’s just that Thor’s jealousy is a sensitive time bomb; once it reaches the top, it’s nearly impossible to pull back down. Break off. His attention, his anger, is solely focused on the threat. To eliminate any remark that could or can hurt you.
But, despite his love for combat—the violent desire, and impulse to tear your friends in half—Thor realizes, for once, that bloodshed isn’t the best idea. At least for certain circumstances. And in truth, that pisses him off. Grumbles how it’s his duty to keep you from harm. Look out for you. It’s mercy, really. Living a life in pure corruption, only to see a glimpse of light, is surely miserable. Thor would know. It drives him crazy when you’re not around. In every way possible, they are a waste of space. Of flesh.
Though, he will listen if you say no. If anything, you are the only person who can tell him "no". He’ll glare, pace, continue grunting– but Thor will listen.
His love language is a plethora of things. Gift-giving, even an outfit, is situational. Words from him flow like his desire to fight; compliments are often direct. Sometimes, too blunt. But his touching? Oh, that is constant.
Thor doesn’t leave you when you’re at arm’s length. Standing too close, feeling his massive presence– the warmth he wavers, and a palm around your waist. Pulling your hand on top of his cheek, covering your own to gently whisk with your fingers. Squeezing your digits when you do anything else, let alone breathe. Kissing the inside of your wrist, inhaling how you smell. The pressure of his touch never wavers, if anything, it deepens. Sometimes so much so, you have to remind him to be gentle. Bruises happen more than he likes.
Him squeezing your skin, fat and muscle, all the way to the bone isn’t being clingy; rather needing to feel you to recharge, to regain his independence, a vital energy. Thor isn’t just reliant on you for emotional support, but also physical.
If you have long hair, expect him to offer to braid it—even if you have curly hair, he still wants help with the moisturizing. Once he learns how to detangle with his fingers, let alone give you a nice head massage, it quickly turns into a strict nightly routine.
Alcohol, despite being his past coping mechanism, you replaced it permanently. Thor promises never to drink again. Lift a cup, all for you.
Even when All Father instills hatred, a toxic reflection, screaming at him to let loose, he still refuses. When Heimdall is a teased fuck, igniting every single fiber of his being aflame, he still stands his ground. Refusing mead. Every thought goes back to you, his poll of support. His restored, lasting addiction. Giving him something to believe in, a place to feel a part of, and the only thing keeping the man alive.
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