#I would’ve had to watch him continue to bloat until he drowned in his own fluids

[pangur-and-grim]

look at that transformation! well done, Belphie, you’ve defeated death!

[marinaaniseed]

Dark ‘n’ Stormy Pt. 7

3,866 words. If you read my earlier post, you’ll know this took a slight turn.

Summary: Thor & Y/N go out for dinner. It doesn’t go as planned. Some Asgardians are mean. Drunk Y/N gives them what for. There is NSFW smut at the end.

Contains swears, drinking, smut, self-esteem issues...the usual, really.

Thoughts, feedback, amusing insults...all are welcomed.

Everything was going well until you walked into the pub. One gentle hand held yours, keeping it warm, as you walked through New Asgard. You heard the pub before you saw it. Probably not the ideal place for conversation, but as long as there was dinner, and there was Thor, it would be fine.

Thor held open the heavy door, and a few people turned to glance at you before the whole place turned silent when they saw who was following you over the threshold. The barmaid kept pouring the pint, even though the tankard was overflowing. One man dropped his bottle, smashing it on the floor. Several people were gingerly dropping to one knee, seemingly unsure if this is what they should be doing.

Looking back at Thor, you could see the panic rising, watching him become overwhelmed by it all. It’d been a long time since he’d been around so many people, except on a battlefield. Even longer, really, since he’d been surrounded by Asgardians.

You were about to say something, to let him know that it was ok, that you could leave if he wanted when a man in an ebony tunic that matched his hair approached you.

“Your majesty,” he rumbled, bowing deeply. “It is an honour to have you with us in my humble establishment. Please, allow me to seat you.”

Thor really didn’t want to be there, with everyone staring at him, but he knew the trouble it would cause if he declined. He nodded his assent and the two of you followed the man to a booth at the back of the pub.

“Please, allow me to take your cloak, m’lady,” the man said, and you unfastened it, handing it over, before sliding across the vermilion leather. Thor joined you, albeit less easily, his stomach resting on top of the table.

“Let me get you some drinks,” the man said, hurrying off without asking you what you’d like.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen anyone look more uncomfortable than Thor did now. And although the other patrons had resumed their drinks and conversations, it was notably muted in comparison. That didn’t stop you from seeing the stares or overhearing snippets.

“-I’ve never seen him in here before…”

“Who is that woman he’s with?”

“What’s wrong with Asgardians? What does he even see in Midgardian women?”

“-used to be a really attractive man.”

“How did she get him?”

“-will help him lose the weight.”

“Thor?” you asked, taking his hand and rubbing your thumb over the back of it. “Do you want to go?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I don’t want to be here. It’s too much. All these people I’ve let down. But I don’t want to be rude.”

“It’s ok, we can have our drinks and then go,” you soothed.

The ebony-haired man returned with a tray laden with drinks. You hoped he was serving several tables, as they do in North America, but no. All of the drinks were carefully deposited on the table in front of the two of you. Thor must’ve looked as confused as you did, because the man bowed a little, before addressing him.

“Your majesty, I thought you might like to sample the beverages we’ve been creating here in New Asgard.”

“What-what are they?” Thor asked, realising that you wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry.

“These two are what the Midgardians call gin. They also have different kinds of beer that we have learned to make. We have a pale ale, witbier, imperial brown ale, imperial stout and saison. Aquavit. Cider And, of course, mead,” he said, smiling at you both. “We’ve been unable to produce wine so far, but we’re still working on it.”

“Th-thank you. How much is this?” Thor asked.

“Nothing, it is an honour to have you here, your majesty,” he said before excusing himself.

You could see Thor wince every time the man said “majesty”. It was hard seeing him like this, but you knew, too, that it must be quite jarring for the Asgardians to have seen their leader shun then, having brought them to this strange planet.

“Well,” you exhaled, grabbing the gin. “Let’s start with the strongest and work our way down.”

“Is that wise?”

“Probably not. But it’s like being in a chili eating contest. You start with the hottest one first and then your mouth will hurt so bad, you won’t notice the other ones.”

“That’s...an interesting approach,” Thor huffed, managing to laugh a little. “Tell me then, what is this gin?”

“Erm, well normally people drink it with a mixer - most commonly tonic - but from the looks of things, this is neat. It mainly tastes of juniper, not sure if you had those on Asgard? I’d say sip it. If it’s smooth, you can probably just sip the whole thing, like a good whisky. If it’s rough as arseholes, sink it and move on.”

“You certainly have a way with words,” Thor said, trying not to laugh, despite his continuing unease.

“Yeah, well. Some of us weren’t brought up in a royal court. Skål, as the Norwegians say,” you said, lifting your glass.

“We say that too,” he enthused, clinking his glass with yours.

The gin was...not good. Paint stripper gin is probably how you would’ve described it. The first sip caused you to splutter and cough, and Thor didn’t seem to be holding up much better.

“Yeah...that’s not great. But it’s also not a traditional Asgardian drink, is it?”

Thor shook his head.

“Right, let’s down this gut rot and get rid of it.”

Thor was certainly impressed by the way you grabbed the glass and chugged away at it, despite your grimace, until it was all gone. He followed suit and waited for you to tell him what was next.

Plates of bread, meats, fish, cheese and berries appeared at some point. You tried a little of each, but in all honesty, Thor ate the majority, which was fine by you. He enjoyed his food, took pleasure in it, you could see the hint of a smile each time he tasted something particularly good.

You felt a little bad for him, squeezed into the booth, his tummy rounded out in front of him onto the table. Only a little bad though, because you were enjoying the sight of it, so soft, so big, so round, right there in front of you. It took all your restraint not to slide your fingers between two of the buttons of his shirt to touch it, feeling it bloat as he drank and ate.

Around the time you started drinking the cider was when it really went wrong. It was one of those ciders where the sweetness belied its strength. The noise in the pub died down at just the wrong moment, so that your conversation with Thor was interrupted by a woman getting rowdy at the bar, staring over at your table and pointing.

“-just so pathetic, just look at him! Getting fat, drinking all the time, parading his Midgardian whore for all to see! We all know what those storms are about! Bet she’s only after him for his-”

The rest of her tirade was drowned out by Thor, roaring as he stood up, sending the remaining drinks flying. Without a word, he stormed out, leaving you soaked in beer, cheeks burning, with everyone staring at you.

You shouldn’t have said anything. Should’ve kept your dignity. But you were several drinks in on an almost empty stomach, and pretty much nothing was going to get you to hold your tongue. You stood up on the leather seat, so that everyone could see you, slowly clapping your hands.

“Amazing. Well done. Do you have any idea what you just did there? He finally feels well enough to be a part of your society and this is how you treat him?”

“He abandoned us! After-” the woman at the bar tried to continue.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarled, glaring at her. “This is hard, for all of you, I get it. You’ve lost everything. But it’s not his fault. He did the best that he could and his best wasn’t good enough. He brought you here, I guess because he thought it was the best, the safest place that he could think of.

“The last few years have not been kind to any of us. But how the fuck do you think he feels? His mum, his dad, his brother. They’re all dead and there’s no way that could be undone. He found out he had a sister and then she tried to kill him, taking his eye in the process. You don’t have to like everything that he’s done but try to see it from his perspective.

“He got banished here...but who among you wouldn’t have tried to take revenge if someone ruined an event you’d looked forward to your whole life? When he brought Jane Foster to Asgard, do you think he feels good about the fact that the dark elves attacked and killed people? No! Of course, he doesn’t! His own mother was one of them. But if someone you cared about was sick, and you knew where they could get help, wouldn’t you do it?

“And after that, when he disappeared? He was trying to find the infinity stones. To stop Thanos. Yeah, it didn’t work, but he tried. Which is more than the rest of us can say. And again, when he went to forge Stormbreaker. There are some things in life that cannot be fixed with muscle or lightning or even sheer force of will. None of us could’ve done any better. I doubt any of us would’ve held up as well as he did for as long as he did. He thinks it’s his fault that half of us got dusted. But that’s all on Thanos.

“Who among us has not drowned their sorrows or eaten their feelings to try to forget what has happened? Hmm? He has been fighting for you, trying to protect you, for as long as he has been able to. What are five bad years in the grand scheme of a life that’s already lasted over 1,000 years? He needs you more than you need him now. He needs his people to show him love, compassion, understanding. Fight for him, and protect him, just like he has protected you.

“And, so what if he doesn’t look how he used to? That is not a good measure of who is and what he has done. Even though he couldn’t bring back his family, he still fought to bring back yours, losing his friends in the process. And this is the thanks he gets? You’re lucky he’s far kinder than I could ever be. You’re lucky he’s even here at all, trying to look after you, in his own way, even when he can’t look after himself.

“And me? I’m not a whore. I fuck because I enjoy it, not for money. I don’t know where this distrust, disdain, dislike for people like me comes from, but here’s the thing. You are on my planet now. You need to get used to us and accept us, or you can fuck right back off into space. I’ve lived on this planet a longer than you have, and let me tell you, yes, there are some terrible fucking people out there, but on the whole, we’re an alright bunch. But treating us like shit will not make your stay here any better.

“Now, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to work, and I’m here to help. And I will come here every lunchtime for as long as I live in New Asgard, and tell you about life on this planet, and help you to adjust if that will help. But I will not be the subject of rumour and jealous gossip, and I will not have you talk to him, or about him, like that, after everything he has sacrificed for the people of Asgard. Maybe, just maybe, the reason he likes Midgardian women is that we actually listen to him, instead of thinking of him as a piece of meat, a notch on your bedpost to say that you bedded the mighty Thor, instead of getting to know who he really is. You were the people who put him on a ridiculous pedestal, who made him out to be perfect, infallible, and he is the one who has to suffer.

“Right,” you announced, grabbing a glass and draining the dregs that weren’t covering you or the table. “My apologies to those of you who were polite, I’m sorry for interrupting your evening. To the rest of you, I hope you’re ashamed. I hope you think about what has happened here, and if he ever has the courage to venture out again, I hope you behave with a bit more decency.”

You slammed the glass, grabbed your bag and jumped down to the floor, and were almost at the door when a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“What?” you hissed, whirling around.

“Your-your cloak, m’lady,” the ebony-haired man replied, offering the heavy garment to you.

“Oh right, yes. Thank you. And I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no it’s ok. It was...refreshing. I think people needed to hear that.”

***

With the cloak slung over your arm, you storm out into the dark night. You’ve no idea where Thor went, so you circle around to the right. He’s sat on the ground, back against the cold wall of the pub.

“Hey,” you said, announcing your presence before sitting down on your cloak next to him. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. She shouldn’t have said those things.”

“No...but she did have some points. I am pathetic and fat and I drink all the time. My father once told me that I was unworthy of these realms, unworthy of my title, unworthy...of the loved ones I have betrayed! And he was right!” Thor heaves, angry tears running down his face.

“That’s not true, Thor,” you said hugging him to your chest. “I’m sure he was angry when he said that but I don’t think he meant it. The ones who love us most say the things that hurt us the most because we value their opinion the most. I couldn’t do what you do, to keep trying, when everything you say or do or don’t is a public matter and open to the scrutiny and opinion of everyone.”

“I thought I wanted to be king, I thought I would be good…”

“And you are. Were. Whichever. I’m sure your father must’ve done things that the other Asgardians didn’t like,” you assured him.

“Ha, yeah. Just ask Brunnhilde.”

“Well, there you go. People often remember the past as being better than it was. Sometimes they need to be reminded that you have feelings too, and that you’re allowed to make mistakes.”

“Yeah, I, uh, heard you. In there. Telling people…” Thor admitted, a little embarrassed.

“Ah.”

“You were quite loud, I was impressed. I didn’t realise Midgardian women could be so loud. I thought it was just the men, like Stark.”

“I’m sorry for embarrassing you.”

“No, no, not at all. You’re just the latest in a long line of wonderful women who’ve defended me over the years. My mother, Sif, the Valkyrie...thank you for standing up for me. It means a lot that you, who have known me for such a short time, would be the one to defend me. That is what Asgard seems to have lost, a willingness to fight for what is right. But they have already fought so much, I don’t blame them.”

“It’s a sorry state of affairs if your only defender is an angry drunk woman,” you smiled, trying to make light of the situation.

“I’ve gone into battle with Brunnhilde, sometimes an angry drunk woman is what you need,” he laughed. “I’m sorry tonight didn’t go as planned.”

“That’s alright, my sweet bear. The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, gang aft agley.”

Thor knows you’ve said something profound, in a language similar, but different to your own. Anything more than that has him stumped, and his face shows it.

“That’s Rabbie Burns, he was a Scottish poet. It basically means that the best-laid plans often go wrong.”

“Oh right, I see. My brother liked poetry and books and things. I guess you could say I preferred more physical activities.”

“Oh, is that so?” you ask, arching an eyebrow at him. “How about we go home and do some physical activities? More gentle than this morning though, it was a struggle sitting in there,” you said, nodding your head back towards the pub.

Thor doesn’t need to be asked twice.

***

You arrived back at Thor’s, having collected your meagre belongings from the hut. He’d been surprised by how little you had, but you assured him that the majority of your stuff was in storage back home. The posy he’d picked for you had also made its way to the cabin.

“Do you think you’ll go back?” he’d asked and you’d responded with a shrug. He knew better than to press the issue.

You were glad to get back. After the initial rush of adrenaline, you realised how cold you were with the now sodden dress sticking to your legs.

“Thor, would you mind helping me out of this?” you requested as he gently put the backpack containing your belongings on the floor.

“Certainly.”

You could’ve done it yourself, but you just wanted Thor to be close to you, to feel like he was helping. To feel like he was valued.

“Why is it all wet?” he asked as he grabbed the hem of the dress to help pull it up and over.

“The dress or me?” you smirked.

“The-the dress…” You really were the worst, he’d decided. He couldn’t keep up that mouth of yours. Oh, that mouth of yours, and what it could do, what he wanted it to do...

“Well, when you left the pub, you sent the drinks flying, and I ended up wearing some of them,” you explained as he lifted the fabric over your head.

“I’m truly sorry, I can’t seem to do anything right,” he mumbled, folding the dress and placing it on top of the dresser.

“That’s not true, Thor.”

When he turned around, the sight of you took his breath away. Stood there in your lingerie and your boots, he felt himself grow erect in seconds.

“If I’d have known that was what you were wearing underneath, I wouldn’t have bothered to take you out,” he said, trying not to ogle you too much. The tiny scraps of fabric between him and the most sensitive parts of you were more arousing to him than seeing you naked. The bites and bruises mottling your skin should’ve made him feel embarrassed but it excited him even more. He’d left those marks, and you’d allowed him to do it. That was the powerful thing about it. You allowed him to do it. Because you enjoyed it, because wanted him to do it, because you wanted him.

Because you wanted him.

“See something you like?” you smirked again. He just nodded in response, his tongue too stupid to say what his mind wanted to express. “Let me show you something you do very right.” You stepped forward, grabbing him by the suspenders, pulling him towards you as you backed yourself up against the wall. Once he was pressing into you with his round stomach, you ran your fingers up into his hair, pulling him down to kiss you. You could feel his hardness digging into you.

What was left of your lipstick was firmly smeared around Thor’s mouth when he stepped back from you. After the disaster of the rest of the evening, you wanted it to have a happy ending, so you slid the suspenders off his shoulders and down his strong arms, before unbuttoning his shirt and jeans, freeing his stomach.

“Mmm,” you purred as you pressed hungry kisses to his skin, hands caressing all that you could grab. “I think we should get you out of this, don’t you?”

Thor removed his clothes and let you guide him to the bed. He saw the way you looked at his hard-on and hoped you could read his mind. He’d never experienced anything like it when you’d taken him in your mouth during the shower.

He silently thanked the Norns when you settled between his plush thighs and began licking his shaft, one hand caressing his inner thigh. When you began to suck him in earnest, working your way down slowly, until you had him fully inside you, his breath came in noisy rasps. Your forehead nodded into the downy underside of his tummy and he cursed the fact that he couldn’t see you over it.

“Stupid...fat...gut. Wish...I...could...watch...you,” he huffed.

You pulled off him and stood up, much to his dismay.

“C’mon, get up. Come over here,” you commanded and he obeyed you, unsure of what you had in mind, but trusting that he’d like it. You got him to stand near the mirror, side-on, before dropping to your knees.

“Look in the mirror, Thor.”

The sight alone nearly made him explode. He could see it all. Him, big and powerful, standing over you, as you slowly took him back inside your mouth. Breasts jiggling behind the black lace, the swell of your backside, tinted various shades of purple. He held his tummy, feeling the heft of it, almost admiring it, so that you could take him deeper. Playing with his balls and stroking the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, he watched you blink back tears as you took him deep, repeatedly, between your delicate red lips, never looking away from the mirror. That’s what really did it for him, the way you maintained eye contact with him in the mirror. It was the kind of thing that would’ve made even Fandral, for all of his womanising, blush.

He kept his word to Brunnhilde, and refrained from causing a storm, as he came in your mouth, hard. Generous as ever, you swallowed it all, licking him clean as you withdrew. Bending down, he scooped you into his arms, hugging you close as he carried you to bed.

“Darling, thank you. That was amazing,” he rasped, his breathing still ragged. It was all catching up with you and you could feel yourself drifting off as he held you against his plush chest underneath the duvet. You were in the dip in the middle, as seemed to be the norm.

“Thor?”

“Yes?”

“If I’m going to live here, can we get a new mattress, please?”

“Yes, yes of course.” And with that, you were out like a light. Thor cursed the fact that the light was still on but he didn’t have the heart to move and wake you, so he lay his head back on the pillow, content to let you use his chest as yours.

@morganhoran1671 @innerpaperexpertcloud

[hopefullymendes]

5am

Shawn Mendes x Reader

**Trigger warning: self harm and bullying**

Word count: 1,085

A/N: I’ve combined an anon request and a prompt I did and as I said, I wasn’t going to do this purely because of trigger reasons but the thought of this possibly helping someone encouraged me to do it. I love you and I’m here for you all. Lots of love.

Masterlist

Shawn smiles at me, his face not far from mine. “What?” I giggle. Shawn places his large, soft hand on my cheek, rubbing his thumb over it. “I’m just so lucky, I wish you could see it.” He says before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on my cheek. I wrap my arms around his neck and begin to kiss him, hard. My body begins to heat as I feel Shawn’s fingers begin to curl up the bottom of my jumper. I quickly pull away before he has a chance to lift it any further. I look up at his eyes, an utterly confused look displayed on his face. I flop backwards onto the bed with my arms splayed out. “Sorry.” I mumble, knowing Shawn is definitely getting frustrated by this repetition. Shawn rests his back against the headboard, letting out a huge sigh. “Y/N… Have I done something? Has something changed between us? I know I was on tour for a while but I haven’t changed… Is there someone else?” Shawn asks, concerned. I shoot up, feeling so guilty. “No! No! Shawn, I promise, nothing has changed with us. I just… I just had lunch and I’m really bloated.” I say, trying to sound convincing. “There it is again. Another excuse. You know I’m here for you, Y/N, but I can’t really handle your games right now.” Shawn says, sounding a little pissed off as he gets off my bed and puts his shoes on. “Where are you going?” I ask, so incredibly annoyed at myself. “Home. I’ll talk to you later.” He says before walking out my door.

I flop back down onto my bed, feeling defeated. I hate how everything is getting in the way of the one thing in life that keeps me going - Shawn. I just don’t know how to tell him. He came home from tour all bubbly and filled with sunshine and I didn’t want to be the dark cloud that covered the sun. He didn't know that, while he was doing what he loved and travelling the world, my life took a turn for the worst and I’ve been holding on by a thread. One by one, people began unstitching me. I had become the new target at school. A place I already hated more than anything else in the world. My friends are no friends at all, so much that it pains me to call them my friends. My grades are slowly declining but not at a rate faster than my mental health. I never understood why anyone in the world could think it would be okay to say negative or hurtful things to other people. Why do people think they have the right? They don’t, at all, yet they still do. Everyone has been tearing me apart. Telling me “you’ve changed”, “do you actually think you’re pretty enough for him?” or the worst one, “wow, you look different. Did Shawn finally tell you to lose a few?”. People have been throwing knives at me in the form of words, jabbing into me more and more each time. So I tried to solve it the only way I knew how - a blade and my skin. Shawn couldn’t know. He can’t know. I’ll just keep making up excuses until I can stop it and my scars fade. But he can’t know.

—— Next morning ——

The rain is pelting against my car as I stare at the lit up dashboard, music blaring out of my speakers. I have to call him. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Why are you up?” Shawn questions, worry flooding out of his mouth. “I’m okay, Shawn, I’m fine. I just- it’s 5am and I’m sitting here in a carpark and I’m so unsure of what I’m doing here but the only thing I can think of is you.” I say, hearing Shawn sigh on the other end of the phone. “I love you, Y/N.” He says in a low voice. “And… I lied, Shawn. I’m bad, so bad. And-and I think I really need you to come and get me, I’m scared of what I’m going to do to myself.” I say beginning to sob. “I’m coming. Y/N, just breathe. I’ll be there in a second, stay with me.” Shawn hangs up the phone as my lungs feel like they’re starting to concave. I clutch my hand against my chest as I struggle to breathe, squeezing cold tears out of my eyes. I reach my hand out to turn the music up even louder, trying to drown out my thoughts. I lean my head against the steering wheel as I continue to try and breathe.

Shawn opens my car door and jumps into the passenger seat, leaning over to me and holding me as best he can. I let out a loud cry as I feel safety return to my body. “Hey… hey, you’re okay. Y/N, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Shawn says quietly as he kisses my hair.

“Fuck, Y/N… Why didn’t you tell me? I never want you to keep anything from me, I want to help you.” Shawn says, his sad eyes boring into mine. “You don't think I’m crazy and lame?” I ask him, my voice weak. “Y/N I wouldn’t love you any less for any of it. You know I think the world of you. I just wish you would’ve told me sooner. You know I’m always here for you.” He says, rubbing his hands slowly over the scars on my right forearm. I lean over the console and place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” I whisper. “Do you have a pen in here? Like a permanent marker?” He asks, his eyes scanning my car. I grab a marker out of my bag in the back seat and hand it to him, unsure of why he wants it. He grabs hold of my arm again, sliding my sleeve further up. “I’m going to draw love hearts, really bad love hearts, but I’m going to draw them over your scars. That way you can’t redo them, otherwise you’ll break all of my little hearts.” Shawn says as he begins to draw small hearts over my arm. My eyes begin to water again as I watch this ball of sunshine who I call my own, here, with me, at 5am, drawing love hearts on my arm. And making a permanent mark on my heart at the same time.