#nothereforyou

i’m guessing you mean in general?

Hello yes I accept my title as Queen of Smut and I will absolutely write for my chunky boy Endgame!Thor. (Mostly because that’s pretty much the only point of Endgame that I enjoyed other than the gratuitous Hulk scenes.) You wanna ride Thor’s face? You’re gonna ride Thor’s face.

(Also this is WAY LONGER than I meant for it to be, but the creative juices are finally flowing and I can finish all the stuff I need to finish.)

(Also also, I don’t have a general taglist, so if anyone would like to be on one, lemme know.)

----

Thor rarely came down to the village from his little hobbit hole anymore. He’d tried for a while after the incident, tried to be a good king and keep the village running smoothly all on his own. But that wasn’t so anymore. He wouldn’t - or couldn’t - speak when he left his cottage, just came down to the village every now and then to check up on things and went back to his cottage on top of the hill. Over time, his visits became less and less frequent, and soon the Valkyrie Brunhilde was the one taking over leadership duties.

Eventually, it came to pass that he came down only once a month for supplies (stout, ale, beer, any alcohol he could get his hands on at this point). Only when he was in need of his escape did he then come down to the village below. And that meant that he came to see you.

Your father had been the man to brew Odin’s special casks of beer and ale, but he’d been lost in Hela’s attack on Asgard to her horde of undead. Your mother and older brother had been lost to Thanos’s snap, so that left you as the only one left who knew what blend of what went into making the special drinks. 

Thor had tried at first to look presentable when he came down - still tried to maintain a kingly appearance and dress appropriately. But again, over time, his motivation waned. He made his monthly appearance clad in sweatpants and enough layers of thermals and flannel to keep warm in the frigid climate. He no longer even attempted to maintain his physique - the carefully maintained abs and bulging muscles gave way to an extra layer overlaying the muscle.

Honestly, you rather liked it. The extra weight was a good look on him. He looked like the gods of old now - strong and sturdy, not so over-muscular and hard. Sometimes, if he wasn’t too drunk and it was a good day that month, he’d actually try to braid his beard so that it wasn’t quite so unkempt. He hadn’t done that lately.

It was just the usual day for Thor's visit when you first really noticed that he'd gotten quite thick. Let himself go was the usual whisper heard about the town, though you didn't share that opinion. He seemed physically healthy even if he wasn't mentally healthy.

Nevertheless, when he walked into your brewery, you knew why he was there. He had the same order every month - this particular ale, that particular beer, and a lot of it. And he knew that his order had already been filled - he was just making his monthly appearance.

That day, he looked more well-kept than usual, as if he'd tried to give the appearance of having his shit together. The temperature wasn't as cold as usual, so he'd opted for a single flannel shirt and sweatpants. You liked the look, actually. The sleeves of the flannel were tight and his muscles bulged nicely against the material.

"Good morning, Your Highness. Your usual order?" you asked, taking in his appearance. 

"Yeah - uh, yes. And add on some of that mead that your fath- your family used to make," Thor replied, looking a bit sheepish that he'd had to correct himself. "It's been a long time since I've had it, and I've been craving it for some time."

The particular mead that Thor was craving was made from a special honey, wholly unavailable unless one knew who to talk to. Luckily, you kept that contact and you had a store of it available.

"Well, it's been a long time since we've made it. It's been more of a drink for the older crowd for some time, so it's not in high demand,” you said. “I don't have any in stock, but I can make you some if you like so that it will age for next month. And I'll make a couple of extra barrels too in case you start craving it again."

Thor nodded. "That would be much appreciated, my lady."

You busied yourself writing up his order on an invoice sheet. "I'll have the boys bring your order around. Anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?"

"You can stop with all that 'Your Highness' business," Thor said, waving his hand languidly. "I've not been much of a king lately. 'Thor' will do just fine."

You looked up at him from your invoice, surprised that he would be that transparent about his troubles. "You're doing the best you can. You've been through a lot and everyone has a breaking point."

"We've all been through a lot,” Thor replied. “You've been through a lot as well."

"People handle things differently. I have a craft to hone and a business to run. My parents would have wanted me to keep with the tradition," you said, leaning against the bar. You'd tabulated up his costs, but you'd have the invoice sent to Brunhilde. She'd been doing most of the royal duties lately, such as divesting the funds. You made an effort to cheer him up. "Besides, who will make Thor's favorite ale if I'm not doing my duties?"

He grinned at that, the first time you'd seen him do so in, well, probably at least a year. "No one in such quantities as you've made for me."

"Damn right," you reply, mirroring his grin. "Have a good rest of your day, Thor. And take care of yourself, please. We'd all like to see our leader back on his feet."

----

You made Thor's special request as well as a few extra barrels to spare. Mead needed about three months to age, but you had a few magic tricks in your hat. His cask would be more than ready by the time he came around again, and it would be just as incredible as if it had been aged ten times as long.

When Brunhilde came in to pay the invoice that night, she seemed pleased. "What did you say to our mighty leader? He was practically skipping when he came down to the docks for the rest of his supplies earlier. Did you jump him?"

"Hardly,” you replied, snickering. You took the payment that she handed you and gave her a copy of the invoice in return. “I promised to make him a batch of my father's special mead. That stuff could make even old Grumpy Ivan leap for joy."

"Ah, you misunderstand, my beautiful barmaid,” Brunhilde said, taking a seat at the bar. “This was not the skip of a man promised good alcohol. This was the skip of a man with an itch that needs scratching, if you catch my drift."

"I caught it, Hilde," you said. You wouldn't mind scratching that itch, if he asked. You wouldn't ask first, of course. Not your style. "I doubt the king is interested in the brewery owner, especially when he seems so down lately."

"No, you see, you're perfect actually. You smell like good ale and it seems that you can give him a little pep in his step. It's the beginning of something, my lady, I promise."

You laughed. "I do love your enthusiasm, Hilde. And thank you for my payment."

"Don't sell yourself short," Brunhilde sang, waving her hand as she left the building.

----

When Thor came in the next month, much to your surprise, he'd really attempted to put a little effort in. His beard was braided and his hair was freshly washed. He was wearing the same sweats and layers that he always wore now, but they were recently laundered as well. He seemed in good spirits, all things considered.

"Good morning, my lady!" Thor said, barging into your brewery with just the least bit of his former bluster. "I'm ready for my mead!"

You started, dropping the mug you were cleaning onto the table. The metal tankard rang hollow in the empty brewery, like a small bell.

"I see that, Thor," you replied, smiling. "Good morning to you, too. You seem to be feeling well."

"And why shouldn't I be feeling well?" Thor asked, leaning against the bar. His elbows hit the table and he rested his chin in his hands as he looked up at you. He seemed unusually clear-headed and his eyes weren't bloodshot. "'Tis a good day! My favorite day of the month, in fact! I get to come down here and see you."

"You mean you get to come down and get your supplies."

"Ah, the supplies are the motivation for the trip, but you are the most wonderful bonus,” Thor said, winking.

You laughed. "Such flattery! Who do you think you are, exactly?"

"Why, the king, my lady! And your biggest fan!"

"My best customer," you corrected.

You broke open one of his casks of mead - one of the reserve ones you'd saved for yourself or the odd person who requested it. You'd had several requests lately for it to be made a regular drink in the tavern since Brunhilde had wandered in a month ago. You assumed she'd told everyone you’d made it, and now the older men wanted something strong and nostalgic. You handed a tankard to Thor who, instead of downing it in one fell swoop, sat down at the bar and sipped it slowly.

You filled your own tankard and sat down across the bar from him. How strange, you thought, to be sitting across from him with such familiarity. The two sons of the royal family, Thor and Loki, had always been kept at arms' length away from everyone (though they hadn't much abided by that) ever since you'd been young. Your family had been allowed to wander the palace pretty freely since they fulfilled such an important role in Asgard (making the king’s beer), but you'd never done so. It was such a hassle to navigate the palace that it wasn't worth the effort. 

"This is as fantastic as I remember," Thor said, giving a heavy sigh. "We always broke open a barrel when we came back from a great battle."

"And we always kept a special store of it for you," you replied. You didn't like to brag, but you felt like you'd really outdone yourself this time. The drink was sweet and smooth; the heavy honey flavor soothed something deep within you that you couldn't quite name.

"How things have changed," he said, staring down into his tankard.

"Indeed." You reached forward and, in an uncharacteristically bold move, took his hand. He squeezed yours gently in return and smoothed his thumb over the back of your hand. "But it will get better."

"Sometimes I do not think so."

"It will, with a little faith and motivation."

Thor drained the rest of his tankard and handed it back to you. You tossed it in the washbasin and gave it a good scrub. As you worked, you noticed that he seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but thought the better of it each time he considered it. You waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts, though considering his behavior so far, you had an inkling of what he may have been thinking of asking.

"Perhaps I'm being presumptuous," Thor started, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "But I would very much enjoy the pleasure of your company today, my lady."

Ah, there it was. Well, you weren’t going to say no to that. It was something that he seemed to need, and being that it had been quite a while for you, it was something that you needed as well.

"And where shall we go? Your cottage or mine?" you teased, only half-believing that he'd outright asked you.

"Yours. Mine is not- well, you can imagine what mine looks like," he said.

"Well, I've got nowhere to be today. Shall we be off?"

“We shall.”

You gathered your coat and the keys to the brewery, locking up as quickly as you could. Once you’d finished locking up, you led him through the back of the brewery, past the casks of ale and beer, to the back down and into the cobblestone street.

Thor took your hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, walking slowly so that you could keep pace. He was nearly a head taller than you, his stature quite imposing compared to yours, and he walked with a speed that you couldn’t match.

"If you had told me years ago that one of the princes would ask me to bed, I never would have believed you," you said as you walked, staring up at him. Really, the braided beard was such a fantastic look on him.

"What's not to believe?" Thor asked. His hand covered yours, keeping you close to his side. "I've always thought well of you. Had I ever seen you at the palace, I most certainly would have before now."

"Good to know. I only went to the palace when I had to. Too many halls to navigate, and I'm not so good with directions."

"Neither am I, truth be told, Thor said. “Loki would usually come find me if I found myself turned around in some back hallway. After he led me there in the first place, of course."

"Of course," you laughed, stopping at your cottage. It was small and clean, if a little bare. You hadn't had much time to decorate with trying to get the brewery going from scratch the past two years. That had been a nightmare, and you were just grateful to have a cozy bed and a fire at night. "Here we are."

"Here we are," he mirrored, holding open the door for you. "After you, my lady."

You led him inside and pulled him into your tiny bedroom. You'd invested in a fairly sizable bed, which served to make the room look even smaller. But there was plenty of room for the two of you.

Thor sat down on the edge of your bed and pulled you into his lap. "If you want me to stop at any point-"

“I doubt I will ask you to stop, but I will certainly tell you otherwise."

Thor wasted no time in pulling your soft leather-and-wool tunic up over your head, tossing it into a corner. You cringed a little because that was your favorite tunic, but you didn't mention it. Kind of a mood-ruiner when Thor's teeth were already tugging at your nipples.

You whined his name, scrambling to get his many layers up over his head. He finally decided to give you a hand and tossed every single thermal into the corner with your nice tunic. You were left with a half-naked Thor, and honestly, that was really all you needed. 

He picked you up and put you on your back at the head of the bed, tugging down your pants and underwear until you were completely naked for him. (And yes, you cringed again when he unceremoniously tossed your pants into the corner.) He settled himself between your legs, elbows on the bed underneath your knees, and set to work nipping at your waist. 

You squeezed his shoulders between your knees as his tongue settled on your clit. He looked like he'd be soft with the newly-acquired physique, but that couldn't be further from the truth. He was still hard as a rock, as strongmen tended to be. He was thick and sturdy like a real Viking, like the old gods in the stories your grandfather had told you many years ago. And of course, that very thought had you dripping on the sheets faster than Thor's tongue could really get hold of you.

He licked the line of your clit, softly running the tips of his fingers along your cunt. You fisted his hair in your hands, careful not to pull and on the verge of failing spectacularly at that. He slipped a finger in, then another, pumping his wrist carefully and timing each thrust of his fingers to the thrust of his tongue.

And, quite abruptly, he stopped.

You whined his name impatiently and sat straight up on the bed, wanting an explanation. He beat you to it.

"I need you to do something for me," Thor said, his hands resting on your hips. "Have you ever sat on someone's face?"

You blushed, although you couldn't imagine why. You were butt naked, whining his name like he was killing you (and he still had his pants on) - no reason to be embarrassed at this point. "You mean intentionally? Without crushing their skull?"

Thor laughed, a rumbling noise deep in his throat that made your cunt throb again. "Yes, intentionally. I want you to ride my face."

"As long as you take your damn pants off so I can sit on your dick afterwards."

"Done," he replied, complying with your request. You couldn't twist around to look down in time to watch him, but you'd get to enjoy it shortly. He settled on his back, pulling you carefully on top of him. "Now, grab the headboard and just keep going. I'll take care of the rest."

You lowered yourself down as gently as possible, until his tongue slid down along your clit again. You shivered, trying not to bear down on his face (didn't want to actually hurt him). Your legs were already shaking as you worked yourself down on his fingers, on his tongue, until you were just on the edge of release. 

Thor grabbed your hips and guided you down to his lap again, sitting up so that you were chest to chest. He leaned back against the headboard, spreading his legs and holding you up at the tops of his thighs until you were comfortable. You grabbed the base of his cock - fuck, you were gonna be sore after this - and brushed the tip of his cock against your entrance. You lowered yourself down as far as you could go, holding onto his shoulders for leverage. 

He tangled his fingers in your hair, claiming your mouth in a kiss. He groaned, moaning your name against his lips as you rocked your hips against his. "That's it, that's perfect."

You grabbed his hips and yeah, not even the least bit soft. That was all still muscle. "You like that?"

"Fuck - yes," he breathed, thrusting up into you. He sucked at the hollow of your throat, grabbing your ass, your breasts, your hips - whatever he could reach. He pulled you down on top of him, almost lifting you up out of his lap so that he could do it again and again.

You kissed him again, hands cupping his face. "I'm so close, right there-"

"Come for me, love," Thor said, pulling you in close to his chest. 

You rocked your hips against his, letting the slow burn build up in your belly until you couldn't fight it any longer. Release slammed through you, shaking your thighs and forcing your cunt to clench down on his cock. He moaned against your mouth again, lifting you up off of him so that he came across his own stomach.

You sat back in his lap, watching him come down from his release as you came down from yours. He panted, leaning his head back against the headboard.

"Hope you're not to tired after that," you said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "We do have all day."

"Oh, I'm yours as often as you'll have me," Thor replied, sliding his hands along your back.

----

Once Thor had left for the night, you headed back up to the brewery. Inside, you found Brunhilde waiting for you so that she could give you your payment for Thor's supplies. No doubt she’d picked the lock to the front door - she’d done it often enough before. She'd also found the opened store of mead and poured herself a glass.

"And just where have you been all day?" Brunhilde asked, a sly smile stretching her full lips. "Hope you don't mind, I helped myself and added on to your payment. This stuff is gold, by the way."

You grinned, taking your money from her. "I took the day off."

"And Thor has been mysteriously missing all day himself," Brunhilde replied, sipping at her drink. "Curiouser and curiouser. You have a pep in your step that I've never seen before."

"Well, if you call a limp 'pep,' that's on you."

"I hope you make it a regular thing," Brunhilde said. "You look like you finally enjoyed yourself for once. And cheered our beloved king up in the process."

"It was lovely, Hilde."

Because Brian is an angsty mess who complains about the complexities of love, while also openly admitting to cheating on his wife multiple times

oh boy, oh buddy, oh pal; yes. not only that, i’ve followed through:

This was the first mistake.

Your father died. I sent a consolation note. I liked a pic of you and your dad in a swimming pool.  

The pics came rolling in. You in bed. You at work. You in bed again, no shirt on. The requests for my pic came right on schedule. You shared, so clearly I owed you. I sent one. I didn’t want to, but I did.

A second mistake.

You asked for more. I sent you a snap with me as a white walker. You didn’t know what that was. I asked you if you asked all your tumblr friends to send pics.

“Fuck you. Passive aggressive much?” is what you said, among a litany of other angry things that scared me, made me sink with dread, with a certain familiarity. This story will surprise no woman.

It was the second time you made me feel unsafe. To be clear, I wrote, “Let me be aggressively aggressive here and tell you to go fuck yourself.” Then I blocked you.

You immediately started emailing me, because you had my email due to my purchase. The general tone was that I owe you. I owe you an explanation. I owe you forgiveness. I owe you my time. I owe you. I owe you. I owe you. Every apology stained with entitlement.

You thought sending me a painting to my home with a note asking for my forgiveness was appropriate. It was not remotely appropriate. It was a way to show me that you know my address. It was a way to break into my life. It was about control.

I shared that note with my friends and family so they know what to tell the police, just in case. Because that’s what women have to do because of men like you.

I turned the painting into ash.

I will never speak to you again.

I owe you nothing. You were lucky to get my grace when you did.

I am not here for you.

I am not here for you.