#the gods are not even aware of their existence and yet their appeasement is so fickle and the consequences of failing to appease them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

annikuh · 5 months

Text

OK here's some thoughts about Jax, based on a lore dump that my partner, george--the GM of the game i play(ed) Jax in--gave me last night. Jax fans, get hype.

new nepherit, Necromancer, Jax, and Syvis discussions, and a more in depth convo about Panathir, who i haven't really talked about yet enclosed :3

1. The nepherits are, on all levels except physical, clones of The Necromancer. Each one has a piece of his soul in them.

You KNOW this tickled me. The implications are bananas. The nepherits hate The Nec enough to kill him, yet they still are inherently him, whether they want to be or not. Jax does NOT like being a nepherit (neither does most other ones probably), so they already have so much disdain for The Nec for creating them, but knowing that they are The Nec? Horrifying.

2. Jax is a v2 of Panathir.

Idk if I've actually really talked about Panathir (PAN-uh-theer), but he's another nepherit that is a big antagonist in the game canon. He's angry and violent and self-loathing, and aspires to get revenge on everyone who has discriminated against him for being a nepherit--pretty much everyone. He's stupidly powerful.

So, according to George, Panathir and Jax are two halves of the same nepherit. Panathir came first and Jax was a 2.0 version of him, which is why they are such good character foils of each other. The two were made early on, and I think that The Nec didn't think that Panathir was good enough to stand alone, but was good enough to keep around, so he made Jax to compensate. They are the only two nepherits that are like this.

Panathir's big thing with Jax, in their first battle in the game canon, was emphasizing that Jax is just like him, with the same rage within them, so it's stupid for Jax to condemn him and pretend like they aren't terrible too. This is something that Jax kind of knows. They know that they have the same desire to kill and get revenge and rage and hatred and everything like that that Panathir does, but they still want to be better than that. They don't want to exist like he does, but he's a terrible reminder of who they know they are. They were stern in their belief that he sucks, and they absolutely kicked his ass in that battle (though he escaped before they could off him, which they really wanted to do, since he was literally torturing people by pulling their souls in and out of their bodies while they were still alive, then just ripping them out and letting the bodies fall without taking the bodies; evil and not great rep lol). However, having to look him in the eye and see the worst of themself reflected back at them really fucked them up.

I think that, despite being created to be better than him, they definitely feel weaker than him. Their relationship is very psychologically and emotionally abusive and toxic, with Jax being told that they're evil and vile and just pretending that they aren't ("it's pathetic that you're trying to pretend not to be a monster just to appease people who will always hate you"), but they're so inherently enmeshed that they can't really escape him.

George did say that he planned for Panathir to eventually become an ally, which I really wanted to happen. Jax thinks that they can help Panathir move on and become a better person. They want this, not only because they are so self-conscious about how nepherits are viewed and how Panathir is giving them all a bad name, but because--for some reason that they aren't consciously aware of--they really care about helping him.

However, even when he becomes an ally, he's still a constant reminder that Jax is inherently bad. They know they are, but they hate to be reminded of it, and it really takes a toll on them constantly.

3. I don't know how to summarize this, but Panathir basically made up nearly every religion and god on the planet and forgot about it.

So, in the game, there's this thing called Nothing, and all of the legends about it make it seem very similar to the apocalypse. One of the major gods, Fa'ru, apparently fought against Nothing, and there is a prophesized warrior that will defeat Nothing (which is one of Jax's party members). However, Nothing is not real. Panathir entirely made it up, along with Fa'ru and all of the other major gods, but people believed so deeply that the gods and Nothing are real that they eventually became mainstream beliefs. But, because nepherits have a normal memory capability, Panathir totally forgot that he made this up.

George said that he planned for the party to eventually find an actual god in the core of the planet while the planet was actually going thru an apocalypse, who would reveal to Panathir that he did make this up and restore his memory about this and provide him with all of the power that people have given these myths over the eons they've existed. This would prompt Panathir to go on a complete power trip and revert back to all his evil shit, reveal all of this to Jax, and try to convince them to give into their true nature and join him in destroying everyone.

This shit is fucking wild and really destroyed me. Jax has so much religious trauma and has consistently begged the gods to help them and care about them like they care about everyone else. They feel like the gods look at them with disgust because they have no souls and were created by pure evil--they weren't made in their image, so they aren't worth the gods' time. They have spent so many nights screaming into the sky for the gods to care for them and love them and ripping gashes into their skin from the pain that they feel.

It must be fucking bizarre to learn that this person who is already such an intimidating and abusive presence in their life created these gods that they've spent so much time praying to and begging for love. These gods aren't real. They've been crying to fictional characters that Panathir--this intimidating, abusive presence in their existence--created, once more putting him on a pedestal above them and making them feel less than.

I don't know if I'm explaining this well at all, but this kind of trauma is so present in their history that it is insane that they've been wasting hundreds and thousands of years looking for acceptance from gods Panathir made up. Such a waste of time, such a waste of energy. It must be fucking crushing. It certainly crushed me!

It must suck too for Jax to put so much effort into rehabilitating Panathir, just to watch him drop all of it so easily and revert back to his old habits and feelings. Not just because it feels like a failure, but because it reminds them that all of the work they had done on themself could be erased at the drop of the hat because of their nature. Horrific. So scary.

I have so much more that I want to explore with the two of them, it's insane.

4. Syvis is resurrected.

George said that one of the other party members really wanted to eventually resurrect all of the elves. When she did, it would end up killing an equal amount of living people. He assumed she would ditch this idea and let the elves lay dead once she saw so many people dying around her, but Syvis would be able to stay out of the power of love or sumn. (lots of these ideas were planned to come to fruition years from now so its a little loose LOL).

Iiiiiiiii hate this I think. Would it be fuckin incredible to have Syvis back? Yes of COURSE, but what kind of life would she be living? She'd be the only elf in the world, all of her friends and family would still be dead. All she would have is Jax, who would absolutely feel super insecure and indebted to her to make sure that they're everything she needs, even though obviously they can't be. I feel like eventually she'd be miserable and lonely and Jax wouldn't be able to do anything about it. It would be adorable to have them stay together, but it's just not fair to either of them for that to happen. So I"m deffo not keeping this in my personal canon LMAO

I do regret that this whole thing didn't happen in game because there is so much possibility for Jax and this party member to have conflict bc yknow, who tf is she to do this? She doesn't know the elves like Jax does. She has no right to do this. She has no forethought about the consequences of doing this. I think it would be very interesting to explore but oh well.

Final thoughts ig LMAO

Ok overall I'm a big fan of a lot of this stuff. I love that I get so much personal freedom with all of this now, even though I would've loved to do it in-game. But now I can futz around with it as much as I want and nobody can tell me that "pajama" isn't an elven word LMAOOO

I'll probbo update my character lore post at some point once i smooth more of this out, so i'll let everyone know when i do. & i'll probably add a section about Panathir, since he's become so important.

#annikuh's speakin #jax #panathir #syvis #also...so much fodder for new jax & topher comparisons LMFAO

0 notes

guiltedlily · 1 year

Text

1.18.23

7.37pm

the word “villian” has been dancing around my thoughts for weeks now. ive watched so many people in my life become the villain yet ive always tried to stay “good”. i have this urge to let myself go, not be self-destructive, the exact opposite of that. i want to be able to feel myself as my own person and not the dumbed down idea of somebody everybody sees as a kid because i deserve that. it feels like im the villain for that when in reality im standing up for myself.

i joke about a “villain arc” as if i havent watched others crumble around me and become the real villain. even if it wasnt technically real, i still remember their actions piece by piece. i remember being called the bad guy for being childish and destructive because i had nothing else. not that it was necessarily right, but of all people, me? i watched communitites, nations, rise and fall by a handful of people, i realized that the people i trusted werent moral, i had my world shattered in front of me so many times over. im not asking to be coddled for that, but it makes me wonder why i stuck out as a villain to some

its so freeing to let myself exist without feeling like i have to water myself down but its scary sometimes. for my entire life, ive been known as the dumb kid who feels things too much and too hard. for my entire life ive been treated as a child when i was cheated out of the chance to actually be one. i convinced myself it was “healing” but i was being pushed back further. in all honesty, i feel emotionally stunted in a way. all those years of being treated and seen as a child make me feel as though i need to behave like one, like i dont understand anything and need somebody to cling onto. ive spent years clinging onto others and i have lost them every single time.

im allowed to be my own person and i do not need somebody to define that for me

thats the single biggest thing ive had to face with.. all of this. lose everybody, gain myself. i cant live in the shadows of everybody else forever and i needed to realize that. i allowed myself to be pushed into boxes and constrained because god forbid im anybody but who others want me to be. i dont think its much of a coincidence that i only started seriously considering my gender once i wasnt under the influence of other people in my life and appeasing them. my gender is just a small portion of my identity that id repressed; there are still parts of the stupid kid that remain inside me, but im trying to take charge and allow myself to be better than that and really grow

i still think a lot about the times id broken down in front of people. i dont know if “regret” is the right word, but it terrifies me. id spent how long having my emotions used against me, and the moment i get comfortable expressing them more freely, im back at square one. a part of me would like to believe that they wont do that; itd be awful to use somebodys trauma and breakdowns against them, right? im forced to look back at my brother and remember the person he is. im forced to realize that maybe he wont always have a soft spot for me, that maybe me speaking out made him turn on me. it shatters my heart to consider but its unfortunately something i need to be aware of

i can tell myself time and time again “he had some sort of reasoning to prod at people the way he did”, but did he? all because he percieved these people as “bad” and considered himself any better. time and time again, i have to realize that im not a stranger to familial wrath. i would believe he could justify anything he does, and thats horrifying in a sense. does it give you a sense of gratification to jab your finger into peoples trauma, or do you only care when it becomes a threat to those you supposedly care about?

when i think about people, my mind is cluttered with questions to them. im perpetually curious and its never quite quenched. i could fill a notebook of questions that i will never ask and i know i will never receive that closure. i could know every single thing about their thought processes but it wouldnt heal

8.20pm

#journaling #original post

0 notes

nyxyxx · 3 years

Text

Harmless Sweetie - Sucrose

Lack of yandere Sucrose content is making me go insane- especially when she has such good potential. So here is my best take of trying to write self aware Sucrose and I may or may not being crying - (a very weak) Sucrose main

Forgot to put the warnings lol

Warning!: Yandere, Cult themes, Religious themes, A little angsty at one part. Unhealthy dynamics

Sucrose was always researching. She never stopped, nor did she ever want to. She couldn't take a break, because they were torture to her. She never understood, how someone could spend a large amount of time doing absolutely nothing and not solving all of one's questions.

Even the time when Albedo had basically forced her to take a 7-day vacation because she was overworking herself, she was restless. She wanted to learn, she wanted to know more and more. After all, if she didn't study how to make everything acceptable, how could she ever create a wonderland?

That is until, one day a little while after she had received her vision. A box was left at the door to her laboratory. At first, she thought that someone must've accidentally left it there, but curiosity eventually overtook her and she peeked inside.

Inside was a small crystal brooch, with a light green colour crystal in the center. The gem was surrounded by some form of metal, which seemed rather expensive. On the top of the brooch, engraved in the metal was a name.

Sucrose

Furthermore, there were strange words engraved across the rest of the brooch in a language she didn't understand. Millions of thoughts raced through her head, hundreds of questions she would be inclined to answer, otherwise she'd become restless.

Who could this mysterious gift be from? What is this crystal made out of? What do these strange words say? What is the purpose?

Of course like any good researcher, she had to solve all of her inquiries. Thus, she eventually fell down a rabbit hole of mysteries, with the purpose of solving one. After her long and tiring research had concluded, she had solved all of her questions.

Although, she had not received answers she would have ever thought possible. Was everything she had ever worked for, simply for nothing at all? This person...this creator, this person their world was meant for. Sucrose spent endless amounts of time wondering.

And then all of a sudden, a traveler had arrived in Mondstadt. It was nothing new, people often came in and out of the city. However, this particular person was seen fighting the dragon Dvalin- or more commonly known as Stormterror. Quickly this traveler began to become more and more popular, and eventually news of them reached Sucrose.

Of course, she was flooded with questions once again. Who is this person? What can they do? Where did they come from? She wanted to meet them, but she also didn't at the same time. She's always had trouble with people, but recently it's gotten worse and she couldn't figure out why.

Somehow, she managed to peek a glance at the strange traveler. At first, there was nothing particularly abnormal about them, except for their odd clothing. It was with a second look did she notice the almost invisible second pair of eyes present in their form.

It felt crushing, but heavenly. Kind and loving eyes, but eyes that could also contain bloodlust and cruelty. She was utterly taken by the strange, second being that this one form contained.

That is when she remembered. A divine being, this world's creator. The God above the Gods. The reason for existence. The reason for meaning. She wanted to speak to this person, but she was so incredibly scared.

She held a great fear of upsetting them, she didn't want a divine being like themselves to come to despise her. Even Master Jean was too scary for her, a God would definitely be too much.

And yet, she wanted to appease them so badly. She wanted to get on the ground and bow before them, to offer them her entire being regardless of whether or not they'd accept her. Such desire was consuming. Her mind could no longer think straight, there was too many questions. Too many questions she would have to solve.

Eventually, she began to watch the strange traveler. Observing them, she called it. There were times when the strange, divine-like presence would vanish, and all that would be left would be the traveler. To most people, they didn't seem to notice the difference.

But Sucrose did. Every time this happened, the traveler, would seem almost like a normal person to her. There was of course, the oddity of them being able to manipulate the elements without having a vision, but that wasn't nearly as shocking to her as the heavenly presence she wished to bathe in.

Everything was so fascinating to Sucrose, and she'd never been more inspired to research than she'd ever been. She often forgot to eat meals or get proper rest, as she was too focused on learning about this God, this heavenly being she couldn't seem to ever get out of her mind. Not that she would want to anyways.

Eventually, there came a very unusual day. She was in her lab as usual, reading through old scripts she managed to find in a restricted section of the Knights' of Favonius library. Lisa let her borrow the books, in turn for the results of her research, for she too wished to learn more about this strange deity.

All of a sudden, things became foggy, and she was put into an almost trance-like state. She was still conscious, but her actions weren't her own. There also was the lingering presence of someone deep in her mind, someone familiar yet unknown.

She felt the urge to give in, to let this person to whatever with her being, whether it be cause her pain or win a million battles. Her endless research was halted momentarily, although this could still be considered researching.

She glided over mountain tops in Liyue, ran across fields in Inazuma, and fought slimes, hilichurls, and treasure hoarders across all of the lands. It was exhilarating, and she enjoyed every moment of it. Eventually, she came to look forward to those times where nothing seemed to make sense.

It was lovely, absolute euphoria when she was being controlled by this God, the God of all Gods, the ultimate creator of their world. It felt like everything for a moment made sense. Of course it made sense, because you were sense. Everything happened and existed because of you. You were reason, you were meaning. You were Sucrose's answers.

That is, until you stopped showing up. She was left alone, once again. She waited and waited, for her heavenly deity to return, and bring her on another lovely journey, but it had been so long. She had gotten much worse than she'd ever been. She went back to researching all day, all night, barely any time for rest unless her body absolutely demanded that she take a break.

But she couldn't, she couldn't take a break for even a minute. What if you came back and she wasn't there to greet you with open arms? It was only until Albedo told her that if she was waiting for someone important to come back to her, then she should probably take care of herself until then.

It did help. It truly did, but she still felt...abandoned. She wondered what she did wrong, had she upset you? Offended you? Did she do something she shouldn't have?

And when you did return finally, she had never been happier. All of her previous grief and anxiety had instantly dissipated. Of course, you arriving to Teyvat in a mortal form was a complete other story. A story for another day.

But please. Please. Please. Please. Just don't leave her. Don't abandon her. Don't hate her. Afterall, what is she to do if her reason for living...despises her?

#I totally did not finish this at 12:30am #holy shit i need to sleep #self aware genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #yandere sucrose #genshin cult #🐙

255 notes · View notes

ryo-maybe · 2 years

Note

Hey, it's Thursday! Ready for WORDS? Grass, blood, euphoria.

ACT 0

Scene 0

(The KING sits atop his lavish throne. His figure is aglow with the spotlight shining upon it, symbolizing his divine right of rulership. But deep shadows seep through the wrinkles and creases on his visage, as if a dark omen is weighing heavily on his brow. The COURT MAGE stands in attendance, massaging his long beard, his gaze distant yet focused.)

KING: The northern dragons have perished. The southern coalition has been pacified. The mines to the east brim with riches we trade with the merchants of the western empire. Tell me now: is my kingdom safe? Is it fated to flourish?

COURT MAGE: Sire, there is but one final hurdle which prevents your kingdom from thriving. It is at once the greatest of boons and the vilest of parasites. You must find what it is that your kingdom depends on the most and dispose of it. Then, and only then, will your kingdom be free to soar, as a chick that leaves the safety of its nest.

KING: What is it then? What causes glory to flow copiously from my kingdom, that it may greedily lap its excess?

COURT MAGE: I do not know, sire. The signs do not speak clearly. They offer a warning, and no more..

(Enter the ARMY GENERAL, clad in gleaming armor, his stride firm and his high-chinned posture proud.)

ARMY GENERAL: Sire, I know the true nature of this menace.

KING: Speak then, that we may place a name upon it.

ARMY GENERAL: I declare the HERO to be our calamity.

KING: The HERO! How so, when he rid us of beasts and spooks alike?

ARMY GENERAL: The HERO is a thief of glory, a robber of responsibility. He is a brute, a rapist and a pillager who wears the gilded cloak of his deeds over the perverse magnitude of his greed. The HERO is no less a monster than those he slays, a curse not unlike those he rids the kingdom of. His quests ride along the mouths of bards, as a plague does on the filthy back of scurrying rats, poisoning the mind with impossible ambitions and the body with desires it cannot fulfill. For what he does alone, a great thousand could never accomplish. For every dream he inspires, a thousand more he leaves crushed and unfulfilled. The HERO lives for the people, but never among them. He is vengeful, petty, and spills blood against the most superficial of slights. Sire, I ask of you: what is left when all the monsters are vanquished, but the worst monster of all?

(Enter the PHILOSOPHER, his flowing robes dragging behind him across the floor, his hand rubbing his chin like two were halves of an inseparable whole.)

PHILOSOPHER: Sire, if I may? I posit a different identity for the unseen affliction of your kingdom.

KING: And what would it be?

PHILOSOPHER: I doubt none more than I do that which is referred to as GOD.

KING: GOD! You would insinuate such blasphemy as to make an enemy of GOD?

PHILOSOPHER: Sire, can there be true freedom within the yoke of an unseen jailor? How can you be king, when one rules above even you? Slavery of the spirit is death of the mind, the wasteful abandonment of our bodies to prostrations and supplications to a GOD that neither sees nor listens. GOD is no more aware of us than we are of Him. He speaks deceptions through the mouths of priests, demanding tithes and wars in His name, supping on prayer while offering nothing in exchange. We bind ourselves with laws written to appease His tyrannical rule, dimming our potential and contenting ourselves with the boundaries He drew for us, barring us from ever trespassing a domain other than the stifling one He forced us into. What benevolence is there, within the GOD that fashioned war, illness and death to punish us with? And for what, but the sin of existing within His flawed domain? We are, us all, blades of grass, shaking as dictated by the breaths of a GOD who delights in laughing at our struggles. Oh, how high we would soar, if only we could dethrone Him!

KING: I see. The HERO or GOD: which shall I sacrifice for the sake of my kingdom?

COURT MAGE: Sire, there is one more who would speak. He claims himself to be the truest monster among them all, the vilest of vile, a scoundrel without compare, and one whom you could never part from.

KING: And who would dare make such bold claims here, in the presence of the KING?

(Enter the WRITER. His hair is disheveled, his visage darkened by circles around his eyes and the unshaved beginnings of a beard. His wrinkly t-shirt hangs loosely over a faded pair of jeans. He strolls in, unheeding of the appalled gazes he receives: his attention, and his grin, are entirely for the KING.)

WRITER: Sire, I am the WRITER who would make such bold claims. I am the truest monster among them all, the vilest of vile, a scoundrel without compare, and one whom you could never part from.

KING: You? Who are you if not a man? What do you wield, other than a harmless pen?

WRITER: This pen holds more power than the sword of a HERO. From its tip flow words truer than those of GOD. By dint of this pen, a kingdom is granted the right to exist eternal within the Elysium of a myriad pages. By staying my hand, I have condemned a thousand kings to the oblivion of forgettance. A hundred more, I turned into senile buffoons or vile, incestuous animals. In my hand, I hold the power to declare the victor of every war, the winner of every debate, to raise a nobody from the mud and put them on the very throne you sit upon, sire. For I am the WRITER, the father and murderer of Truth. In the throes of inspiration, I could fashion a VILLAIN to vanquish your HERO, a DEVIL to devour your GOD. I could alight your kingdom with the fires of revolution, only for want of watching it expire overnight in a single blaze of collective euphoria, or damn it to blind obeisance in the name of a vacuous ideal, chronicling its stagnation down to the mortal breath of its very last subject. You need me more than the heart that beats beneath your brocades. Your thrice accursed foe, your dearest ally. You may kill me, sire, when all is said and done, but by then, I will have already killed you first.

KING: That is impossible.

WRITER: Ah, how else, but by penning this abrupt conclusion?

#Fragment Bits #lots and lots of catching up to do

11 notes · View notes

kodzumie-archived · 3 years

Note

can i please get a nsfw yandere nagito with a fem or gn s/o that involves overstimulation/multiple orgasms? i love ur writing so far 💖💕💗💓 tysm

❝COVETOUSNESS❞

Synopsis; Humans are selfish to their very core; their fundamentals. Yet is he truly selfish if he merely wants to serve you?

Featuring; Nagito Komaeda x Fem! Reader

Warning(s); Yandere themes, nonconsensual, sacrilege, breaking and entering, somnophilia, fingering, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, mentions of feeling like vomiting (distress), overstimulation, and hintings of forced pregnancy.

Kodzumie’s Note; Thank you for your support and kind words! Though I sincerely apologize if this isn’t what you had in mind when requesting. This piece turned out very dark and included a lot of triggering topics. If you don’t like how it turned out, please tell me! I’ll rewrite it just for you, love. Take care of yourself, okay? Muah <3

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ Humans—to their very core—are selfish. They yearn for what they can’t attain; for what they shouldn’t possess. Human instinct is derived from bitter selfishness, a desire to take, take, take until they’ve withdrawn everything.

⤷ No matter Nagito’s constant resistance of such instincts, even he succumbs. Selfishness—uncontrollable avarice—is merely the fundamentals of humanity’s existence.

⤷ Despite how pitifully minor Nagito views his worth to be; how little he views his purpose to be; he’s still human.

⤷ And with being human comes an animalistic drive. An uncontainable urge to tear into all that he yearns, to take what it is he lusts after.

⤷ Even as months pass, his livid attempts to suppress the temptations and submit himself under your guide; your hope; your will. He swears to himself that he merely wants to serve you.

⤷ His disillusionment riddled with fixation leads his mind astray, and perhaps that’s why he found himself perched outside your bedroom window, peering in through the crack of your curtain.

⤷ He’s aware that someone as worthless as him shouldn’t dare think of tainting your ethereal, divine figure with his touch. But his delusional ideals muddle his thoughts until he, himself, compromises to string along his yearning as well as his allegiance towards you.

⤷ It’s a complicated urge; a lustful temptation fueled by his innermost greed. Yet isn’t this another way to serve you? To bring forth your pleasure and watch you squirm in ecstasy? Isn’t this what it means to serve?

⤷ Too far gone within his ambitions of pleasing his beloved hope—his god—his fingers trail along the underside of your bedroom window, tracing over the sill with his fingertips.

⤷ Yes, yes. The desire to ensure your pleasure was nothing more than his strive to serve you. Even as he knew someone scum like him have no business laying their grimy touch upon you, his fundamental, humanistic avarice distorted his belief; it’s not about his pleasure, it’s about yours.

⤷ Thus he repeated these words within the feverish, compulsive capsule of his mind as he tugged at the window, gently as to not disturb your rest; he wouldn’t dare want to bother you.

⤷ A click resonated within the nighttime air and Nagito’s lips curled to an eerie smile; just his luck, the window was left unlocked.

⤷ With a singular, fluid motion, Nagito managed to open the window to its fullest; granting himself entrance within your abode.

⤷ He almost didn’t enter, too far flustered at the fact that he was about to enter within the encompass of your heavenly presence; your sacred home. Surely trash like him wasn’t welcome within the personal realms of his beloved hope. But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness is not to be underestimated.

⤷ As he pushes through, entering with a reluctant hop, a thump echoes against the walls of your bedroom. Yet it seems that his luck was abundant that night, you hadn’t even stirred within your rest.

⤷ It was within that moment that Nagito’s breathing grew erratic; unstable. Huffing jagged breaths as he admired your sleeping form with an all-too-prominent blush coating his cheeks.

⤷ You appeared so delicate from within this close—no, intimate—proximity. Having spent months watching you from meters distance, this length felt almost forbidden; sinful.

⤷ It’s evident as though being this close to you was sinful itself. He knew all too well that scum like him shouldn’t dare approach you; shouldn’t dare go near; he wasn’t worthy of your divine presence. He knows, he knows, he knows.

⤷ Yet that doesn’t stop his footsteps as he hovers over you, taking a closer peek at your visage in which was doused with the indications of slumber.

⤷ He was mere feet away from you, and that thought alone sent blood to his already flushed cheeks and straight down to where his pants began to strain; an erotic euphoria bubbling within his gut as he released a giddy giggle.

⤷ There you were, there you were. As he gently brushed the back of his hand against your cheek, his knuckles nuzzling against the plush skin, he stuttered out a breathless moan. You were there, he could feel you.

⤷ And that realization—alone—was what cut the ropes; detaching Nagito from what was left of his morality as he climbed over your dormant body, straddling your hips.

⤷ Picking at the fruit of his desires, fingers clasping over the hem of your blanket, ready to reveal your heavenly figure to his ravishing eyes.

⤷ Nagito lost his external awareness, unable to decipher if the beating of his heart and the rapid, heavy breathing escaping his lips was even his own. Instead, his attention remained glued to you; to your divinity; to your ethereal, unconscious countenance.

⤷ It almost felt unreal, as though that very moment was nothing more than a merciless dream to torture his unattainable wishes and prove to him just how pathetic he was; how greedy scum like him can be.

⤷ But as he rocked his hips—grinding his clothed erection against your blanketed form—all his fears of this moment being nothing more than a dream had dispersed.

⤷ This pleasure was real. And it felt so, so imprudent. He should feel ashamed, and he did. He felt such an unfathomable amount of ignominy; his existence culminated to a mere disgrace.

⤷ Somewhere within his mind—somewhere tucked far within the depths of his disillusioned, fixated mind—he knows what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he doesn’t deserve to touch you like this. He knows putting his grimy hands on you is criminal. But his thoughts are clouded, and he no longer fucking cares.

⤷ The rocking of his hips jolts to a hault as he shakes his head, dismissing his own undeserving pleasure. This wasn’t about him, this was about you; relinquishing in your pleasure, fulfilling his role to serve you.

⤷ And thus, he discards your blanket, soaking in the sight of your body covered in nothing more than your pajamas. His already rosy cheeks flush further, sweat accumulating above his brow at your delicacy; your vulnerability. How cute.

⤷ As though your waist was a magnet, his hands instantly found themselves situated atop the exposed skin that managed to peek out from beneath your top.

⤷ A shudder wracked down Nagito’s spin, a shaky moan falling from between his lips as he gently squeezed the skin; familiarizing himself with your divinity. So soft, so delectable.

⤷ He found himself wanting to savor you; to treasure each moment through the means of time as he spends each mystical second hailing every centimeter of skin you bless his senses with. But it’s that damned ravishing instinct; his disgusting, filthy greed that persuades him to hasten.

⤷ Soon enough, his fingers find themselves curled around the hem of your pants, mentally preparing himself for the glory of tugging them down and witnessing the sacred grail of your panties. Though he hungrily awaited the heavenly domain the aforementioned panties kept hidden.

⤷ It was a swift motion, but he tried to be as careful as he could muster. You—his precious deity, his glorious god—were still asleep, after all.

⤷ At the sight of your panties, Nagito chewed his bottom lip with fervor as he suppressed a groan. This is real, this is real, this is real.

⤷ Caught in a state of delusion and pure, unhindered ecstasy, Nagito attempted to ground himself to reality—this was real, he was truly feeling upon your divinity—brushing the tips of his index and middle finger over your clothed slit. He could feel you; he could feel your slick through the thin fabric of your panties.

⤷ The feeling of your juices coating your panties, faintly dampening his fingers, had unraveled waves of heat to his cock. Your juices; your arousal.

⤷ Nothing could ever compare to the euphoria, the unhinged joy, he felt within that moment.

⤷ He could feel the hope you radiated in multitudes of waves. The intensity of your hope flustering him, dizzying him with adoration as he pants. A borderline maniacal cackle erupting from the back of his throat.

⤷ This was it! This was what a worthless scum such as himself was meant to do; his purpose! He was meant to appease you, his sole meaning in his pitiful, miserable, despair-filled existence was nothing more than that; to appease the beacon of hope that radiates amongst mankind, his beloved savior, his god.

⤷ His mind fogged with the brimmings of dazed insanity, he pounces; jumping the gun. Your panties sheltered your cunt no longer, exposing your most intimate parts to his ghost-green orbs; the same eyes that ravished the sight so hungrily, starved.

⤷ His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, salivating at the sight. Of course, every part of you was faultless; perfection personified. He should’ve known your pussy—drooling with your slick—was no exception.

⤷ The temptations, the urge, the bitter greed that was pitted within his too-far-gone devotions overwhelmed him.

⤷ It was a constant battle between his self-degradation and self-absorption. He wanted to ravage you; milk you of your nectar.

⤷ Yet he was caught in a cobweb of confliction. Scum like him didn’t deserve to taste your delicacy. Trash like him didn’t deserve to touch you so intimately.

⤷ He knew this. He knows, he knows, he knows, and yet he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. Not as his tongue drags over your slit, lapping over your wet cunt and humming at your flavorful dew.

⤷ It was addictive; your taste. As though he wasn’t already high—face flushed, sweat-coated brows, and bleary mind—he now found himself encapsulated within his ever-growing fixation. His adoration—no, obsession; his addiction—for you transitioned from a chrysalis of desire to an abyss of yearning.

⤷ Unable to cease his infatuation, he plunges his tongue into your forbidden flower; the glory that trash like him should never delve into. But he doesn’t give a damn about that now.

⤷ He’s aware of his status in comparison to yours. He shouldn’t even be within a mile radius of your sacred space; he shouldn’t be anywhere near you.

⤷ But that’s what made you so addictive; so cherished. He couldn’t get enough of your superiority, and that’s because trash like him will never be enough. He could never amount to your greatness—your holiness—so he takes. And he takes, and he takes, and he takes from you until he’s able to fill his worthless existence with a mere fraction of your inalienable hope.

⤷ You’re his hope. You’re his promise of a better tomorrow. You’re the beacon of light that ensures him that life is worth one more day. You’re the embodiment of his desires. You possess all his wants, and yet he only wants you.

⤷ He only wants to indulge in you; serve you; appease you; fulfill all that it is to please you. As he continues to suckle on your clit, lapping his tongue over the sensitive bud, a moan echoed within the bounds of your bedroom; a moan that was not his own.

⤷ You turn, and a groan of slumber escapes your lips. Nagito’s breath hitched as he pauses his ministrations, heart hammering within his chest in anticipation; dread.

⤷ A dread that warped into sickening excitement as you gasp; the result of a lick to your slit.

⤷ In that climactic second, your entire body stilled as your limbs began to tremble with absolute terror. At that very moment, you are painfully aware of the cold air brushing against your thighs; the cold air of another person’s breath against your exposed cunt.

⤷ A wicked, devious smirk resided on Nagito’s lips as he allowed his repressed chuckle to escape and resound within the tense atmosphere. Just his luck, you were awake.

⤷ He’s disturbed his beloved hope; his god. How shameful, how utterly audacious of him. How dare he stir you from your rest? Much less have your divinity awaken to witness his atrocious self; his existence that you should’ve gone about your merry life without realizing he existed.

⤷ But that doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done, and Nagito can only attempt to mend the inevitable errors he’s committed.

⤷ He’ll try to make amends of his wrongdoings by bringing forth your pleasure. He’s disturbed you, so why not make it all right through serving you? Just like he intended to do in the first place.

⤷ His tongue—formerly masquerading in quick frolics—now fervently diving and plunging into your core. Slurping your juices with such intensity as regard for your already disturbed slumber is dismissed.

⤷ Your hands press against his disheveled hair, tugging and attempting to push him away. Yet the sting of your fingers within his strands merely elicits a groan from his lips; the same moan that vibrates against your body, releasing a moan from your pretty lips that he adores.

⤷ The harmonious sound you’d let out motivating Nagito further as he tightens his right hand over your thigh, throwing it over his shoulder. His left-hand massaging your slit—teasingly—before thrusting two fingers at once.

⤷ Your stuttered moans are pitifully muffled by the biting of your bottom lip. You’re afraid; so very afraid. Why was this happening? Why you?

⤷ With his face buried between your thighs, you couldn’t get a clear view of his face to identity him. You wondered which would be worse; someone you knew or a stranger?

⤷ Regretful whimpers tumble from your lips as Nagito added yet another finger, his lips curled around your clit as he drew a harsh suck; one that forced a particularly loud moan from you.

⤷ He smiled against your cunt, giddy that someone as trashy as him could bring out such melodic noises from you. Yet this blossomed a hunger for more; more of your sounds and more of your pleasure. He wanted to watch you unravel over, and over, and over.

⤷ And—while you laid beneath him, squirming and writhing in both pleasure and an instinct to get away due to your terror—he was going to do so. He was going to milk you of your orgasms relentlessly, basking in your cum as he strives to bring you as much pleasure as scum like him can give.

⤷ As he pumped three digits into your sopping cunt, juices squelching upon contact, his pace only grew more rapid; hasty with the desire to feel you clench around his fingers; soaking him in your cum as you reach your climax. Faster and faster, his eyes interlock with yours as your mouth hung open, your heavenly moans filling the room.

⤷ Yet as your eyes meet, a terrifying realization causes your heart to drop to your stomach along with the unwanted bubbling of your oncoming orgasm.

⤷ You knew him. A bitter realization as your breathing both halted and grew more unstable. You knew him, you knew him, you knew him—tears cascading at the fact—you knew him; Nagito Komaeda, the infamous lucky student in the class below you.

⤷ Through the horrific pleasure of his fingers thrusting into you, a stuttered cry escapes your lips as you sob.

⤷ “Stop! Stop, plea—ah! Komaeda, stop!” Your wails overcoming your unintentional yelps of wretched ecstacy. And paying heed to your pleas, he stops.

⤷ You feel relieved; hopeful. There’s a hope blossoming within your chest as you sought the possibility that he’d truly stop; leave you alone and never show his face to you for the remainder of your life, perhaps allowing you to forget this night ever occurred.

⤷ But once your eyes meet with Nagito’s ghostly green ones once again, you could hear the cracking of your spirit; the shattering of your hope. There’s something within his gaze. Something animalistic, something so terrifyingly carnal.

⤷ He didn’t stop. Not as you sobbed and pleaded for him to let go of you; to leave you alone. Not as you promised you wouldn’t tell a soul about this night if he’d just leave. But he didn’t leave. And he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

⤷ It hurt. Perhaps not physically—violating you pushing you into heaps of orgasmic pleasure—but emotionally; mentally.

⤷ Your sobs falling upon deaf ears as he removed his fingers from within you; unsheathing his digits in which were soaked in your juices. For once throughout the time you’ve laid conscious, he’s removed himself from you. Shifting his weight onto his knees, barely straddling you.

⤷ In that moment, you saw a chance; an opportunity. And as quickly as your hope had been shattered preciously, the fragments seemed to reassemble themselves; the broken aftermath of what was once whole.

⤷ Though as you prepared yourself to dash towards your bedroom door—half-naked and vulnerable—a sickening, gutwrenching sound haunts your ears; the clanking of a belt buckle followed by the daunting friction of leather.

⤷ You needed to run, and you needed to run now. Without a moment to waste, you used your utmost strength to shove the male back, and throwing yourself off of your bed.

⤷ Your body hit the wooden floorboards with a thump as you wheezed in exasperation; the wind knocking out of you. Yet you didn’t allow the minor setback to hold you down as you shoved yourself from the floor, sprinting towards the closed door.

⤷ It was close; so close you could almost wrap your fingers around the brass knob and release yourself from the confines of your bedroom; what you now considered the encompass of Hell itself.

⤷ As your fingers brushed against the doorknob, curling it to the left and successfully opening the door, a weight shoves itself against you; forcing your body to slam against the door—painfully—shutting it.

⤷ Your blood ran cold; turning to ice at the realization of what’s to come. You were too slow.

⤷ His calloused hands clasp over your body; one over your mouth whilst the other remains firmly atop your hip, squeezing at the plush skin. His breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he mutters something you’re unable to comprehend, much too focused on the painfully audible pulsating of your heart.

⤷ You had nowhere to run, and you surely couldn’t hide anywhere within your room. You were stuck. You were too slow and now he’s trapped you within what you had once assumed was the comforting, safe confinement of your bedroom.

⤷ You could feel it; you could feel him. The unmistakable bulge pressing against your thigh serving as a searing reminder of what it is that’ll be taken from you by the arising of dawn.

⤷ Ever-so hopeful, you continue to thrash; fighting against his bludgeoning grip as you sob an onset of pleas for the possibility of persuasion. But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness is not to be underestimated.

⤷ It’s as though he’s unable to hear your begging; selectively falling deaf as he ravishes for what he yearns for. Despite his internal promising of committing such ludicrously was for you—much like all other actions he takes in his pathetic life—Nagito is bound by the foundations of his humane instincts; selfishness.

⤷ Even as he pushes himself into you, choking out an exaggerated, sinful groan as he savors the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, soaking him in your cum from your previous climax as he thrusts you into another.

⤷ He’s relentless; pounding into you as the ropes of his self-restraint are cut. The remnants of humanity long-lost within him as all that’s left is the barren chrysalis of fatal infatuation; narcissistic desire; the epitome of all that he once vowed to never become.

⤷ Over and over, he circles your clit, stimulating your nerves to draw out the cries of bliss that he adores. Your moans a mantra of pleas to his disillusioned ears.

⤷ Even when the buildup of pleasure became too much, reaching your fourth orgasm of the night rapidly, much to your dismay. The bubbles of elation became too much; it became painful.

⤷ Your legs trembled with shocks of exhaustion, jolting through your limbs in the form of cramps as you sobbed from the mental strain and the physical drain his tainted violation took on you. It hurts, it hurts so bad.

⤷ You wanted him to stop, pushing against his hips which were practically strapped to the curves of your ass, you attempted to put space between your body and his; granting yourself just the tiniest bit of relief from his unwanted touch.

⤷ But he wouldn’t allow that. He yearned to be closer to his hope—his deity—for he knew that the moments shared were temporary; a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity graced by your divinity. And he wouldn’t waste a second of it.

⤷ “Please,” Your voice hoarse from the endless amounts of crying and screaming for release from his captivity. “No more. I can’t—“ But your continuous begging was interrupted by a voice you prayed to whoever would listen that you don’t hear his wretched voice for the rest of your days; the rest of your days in which you’ll attempt to fix the pieces of yourself he’d scattered.

⤷ “But you can, my beloved hope. I believe in your ability to keep going. You’re surging with the throbs of hope! I can feel it!” He rasped. His voice is cheery and upbeat as he panted breathlessly, pushing himself towards an orgasm of his own whilst you’re forced to endure your fifth.

⤷ “No! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” You yelped as the crown of his cock kissed against your cervix; a painful jolt shooting up your spine as you cry out. It hurts, everything hurts. Your abused pussy leaked heaps of your cum as the fluids drizzled onto the floorboards and your inner thighs.

⤷ “Don’t lose sight of hope, my darling deity. You are capable! Conquer the putrid tendrils of despair and provide me with another dose of your glory! I beg of you, please. Allow me this moment to—“ His tangent was cut off; his insanity and dazed glorification of obsession are not allowed another second of exposure as you scream.

⤷ “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” It’s loud; your voice ringing in your ears as you clench your fists.

⤷ This man—no, this-this monster—was anything other than humane. He held not an ounce of sanity as his shaft twitched from within you at your outburst, groans escaping his lips at the sensation of you clenching as you shouted your proclamations.

⤷ This sick fuck found pleasure in the outing of his disturbing infatuation. So much so that he pressed his chest against your back as thick ropes of translucent cum fill within you; his cum.

⤷ The horrifying sensation of his heated seed gushing around his cock which still continued to pump into you—though at a much slower pace—pushed you to tears once more. You want to vomit, you want to empty all that’s inside your limp body; a body that no longer felt like your own.

⤷ He reached his climax through the use of your body as though you were a mere fleshlight; a toy simply for his volatile lust. He came inside you.

⤷ Suddenly the room was spinning, the door blending with the wall as the frame warped into unrecognizable shapes. Your body swayed—mind hazy as you swallowed back the traces of bile—before falling into the arms of the sole being you wished nothing more than despair upon.

⤷ He held you; cradled you within his arms as he whispered about how good you were. His cheeks flushed rosy with an unnatural, insane sense of longing.

⤷ “My darling deity, I can’t believe that scum like me managed to ensure you five peaks of ecstacy. What an honor for someone as trashy as me, to be nuzzled within your sacred blossom of hope. Ah, I truly am so lucky...” He rambled. It’s insane; his words, his gaze, his touch. Everything about Nagito Komaeda was—to its very core—insane.

⤷ “To think that someone as worthless as me, as purposeless as me, could be given the gift of serving you like this.” He releases an airy chuckle as he guides you to your bed, laying you to rest once more. Your exhausted figure falling limp as you hit the mattress.

⤷ He leans over you, his breath fanning over your lips as he pauses, gazing into your eyes with a moment of what you believed to be the eyes of true depravity.

⤷ “I’ll follow you to the depths of Hell if I have to. Not a moment in my life will be spent without serving you; worshipping you.“ He continues to monologue, each sentence that leaves his lips muddled with riddled devotion; a promise you pray that he won’t keep.

⤷ His lips brush against yours as the lids of your eyes weigh more by the second. You can sense the warmth of his breath as his lips press against yours; not close enough for a proper kiss yet able to rub against yours. It’s an intimate proximity, but one you’d rather run through fire than share with him.

⤷ “My goddess, I’ll hail you until my dying breath, if your sincerest hopes will allow me.” Finally, he captures your lips with his own, pulling you in for a fleeting kiss that he hesitates in breaking.

⤷ As he pulls back, eyeing your now sleeping form, he couldn’t help but smile. A smile that surely would’ve stirred fear deep within your gut as swirls of delusion masqueraded within his ghostly green hues; a visage of addiction in its rawest form. “My darling deity, I love you.”

#This is the darkest piece I’ve ever written #So please do pay heed to the warnings!#yandere #tw yandere #sdr2 x reader #dr2 x reader #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #yandere nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #nagito hcs #nagito imagines #danganronpa hcs #danganronpa scenarios

443 notes · View notes

revengeoftheantichrist · 3 years

Text

Sacrifce

Warnings: Dub-con, breeding kink, Human sacrifice

AO3

The winter had been harsh and long. The snow was thick over the fields, making sure that no crops would grow. The village was down to its last few animals; even the ones that had perished due to the harsh conditions had to be used up and eaten. The winter rations used up long ago, when the people thought it would be a normal cold season. No one had suspected that the ice would remain for this long. Spring should have started by now, the fields should have been lush and green, lambs and calves should have been dotted around the meadows and pastures. But here you were, cocooned in all the furs the family owned, ignoring pangs of hunger, and wishing to feel the warmth of the sun once more. Clearly this was the anger of the gods, and something had to be done in order to appease them or else your entire village would perish. A decision was made. A sacrifice was needed. It couldn’t be livestock; you were already struggling. The village elders had decided that there were already too many mouths to feed, so a human life it would be. It couldn’t be one of the boys, because obviously strong young men were needed to do what little labour was needed in the village. Elders were needed to pass on knowledge. Mothers were needed to raise the children. And this particular entity did not accept the lives of children. That left the girls of marriageable age. ‘Typical’ you thought to yourself. Something in the back of your mind told you that it would be you. Your family wasn’t particularly important, you had no elders to vouch for you in the council, and as much as they cared about the ‘good of the people’, they were not prepared to let go of their own granddaughters. When the decision was announced, you were not surprised. You hoped it was quick, whatever it was. //// For some morbid reason, you were dressed like a bride. The ceremonial garb was far too thin for the temperature. Maybe you were to freeze to death. Whoever this god was, his temple was located in the mountains near your village. It was, however, a surprisingly short trek. You assumed you would perish along the way seen as you were barefoot, without furs and not well fed. The people of the village could not even extend those courtesies to you. You looked around at the entrance of the temple, it just seemed like a dark and icy cave. It had gone unused for so long. The Jotun god, Loki had fallen out of the people's favour long ago. Mischief and chaos were not welcome by the people. Instead, his brother, Thor remained as the favoured god of the region. Maybe the harsh winter was revenge and punishment for forsaking him. A harsh reminder to the people that he still existed, and that his anger was not to be taken lightly. An elder spoke to you as your hands were tied, you weren’t really listening. A bitter drink was given to you, it burned on the way down, but it was the most warmth you had felt in a while. A thick veil was placed over your head, apparently you weren’t allowed to see what was about to happen, a small mercy. You were led into the temple, the lack of harsh wind making things a little more bearable, but the pure ice on the floor made your bare feet hurt. You were pushed onto your knees, the cold seeping into your bones. The elder walked away. You listened as the voices of the men drifted away from the entrance, leaving your fate in the hands of something unknown. Your only company was the constant dripping, echoing from somewhere in the cave, and the sound of your own thoughts. You hoped it was worth it. A numbing sensation began to take over, probably caused by the drink from earlier. //// You jolted awake at the sound of total silence. The wind could no longer be heard, and the dripping had stopped. You still couldn’t see anything. Yet somehow the room seemed a lot bigger, you felt more exposed, missing the strange comfort of the enclosed space you were supposedly left in. Had you been moved? As your eyes began to grow heavy again, you heard a shuffling from in front of you. The noise causing you to sit up straight. Whatever it was, its presence was suffocating. “Now what do we have here?” The voice was like velvet. Otherworldly even. It seemed to descend, getting closer to you. “A shivering little lamb, all for me.” This must have been Loki. You fought the urge to run out of wherever you were. “Well, it seems like the people haven’t been able to forget me, no matter how hard they try.” He grabbed your tied wrists, the rope falling away like water. His hands felt so big compared to yours. His cold touch made you tingle. “Oh you poor thing. Freezing, aren’t you?” You could only nod. He responded with a light chuckle. “Are you going to eat me?” you blurted out, not thinking about what you were saying. He moved away from you. You could feel him staring at you. You knew he was grinning. “Of course, I am,” he got closer again, “it is up to you how,” he whispered. You gulped. There seemed to be innuendo in his statement. He moved again, this time directly in front of you. You gasped as you saw his fingers hook under your veil. Big and blue was the only way you could describe them, with raised ridges. You wanted to trace them with your fingers. Your thoughts were cut short by the tugging on your veil. Your hands shot up to cover your scrunched up eyes. You felt the veil come off, the cool air hitting your head. “Look at me, Y/N”, his voice boomed around the space. You never told him your name, you were sure of it. His tone left no space to argue. How could you defy a powerful god anyway? You knew what his wrath could bring first-hand. You lowered your shaky hands first, placing them on your thighs, gripping your knees. You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the new light. Your eyes fell to the bottom of the dais you were kneeling at. Ever so slowly your gaze travelled up, taking in each individual, intricately carved step. Finally, your eyes landed on the being sprawled out over his crystal throne. His head rested on his hand, a bored expression on his face. The only way you could describe him was ‘magnificent’. A beauty like no other. You could see why mortals would fear him, but he was not the grotesque creature you expected him to be. He seemed amused at your expression, raising a brow at you, causing you to blush, you wanted to be back behind the veil to hide your own embarrassment. “I expected a little more screaming, mortals usually can’t handle what they cannot understand,” he finally spoke again. You could do nothing but owlishly blink. “Stand,” he commanded. You scrambled up, your legs resisting after kneeling for so long. “Come here,” he made a ‘come hither’ gesture with his finger. You slowly made your way up the icy steps, becoming painfully aware of your bare feet. You tried to look away when you stood directly in front of him, even sitting the god dwarfed you in size. His icy hand reached forward, gently holding your chin and making you face him. Those red eyes seemed to study your face intensely. You stared right back, taking in all his features. High cheekbones and a sharp nose, all accented by the same ridges he had on his hands. You followed the patterns to the column of his throat, stopping yourself from letting your eyes wander further down; you knew he was covered in the lines. You wondered if they were natural in Jotuns, or if they were burned into the skin, like a rite of passage of sorts. You had heard other tribes in your area had similar traditions. Your thoughts drifted to mapping them out with your own hands. “Such a curious little thing you are,” he said. He must have caught you staring, your eyes darted away from him as he chuckled. You caught a glimpse at his teeth, pearly white and sharp. He pinched your cheeks as you tried to turn away, thoroughly enjoying the heat that rushed into them. “I forget how soft and delicate Midgardians are,” he mumbled. He pulled away from you, looking you up and down as he thought what to do with you. “Your people want salvation, yes? They want the winter to end?” he asked. You quickly nodded; it was the reason you were here. He hummed, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. A grin spread across his face. The room around you began to spin before you fell back onto soft furs. A fire crackled nearby, you sighed at finally feeling warmth after so long. Loki stood above you, staring you down, the light from the fire making his features sharper than before. You felt like a mouse at his feet. You almost screamed as he got down, hovering above you on all fours, engulfing you with his body. Your noses touching. “I will offer your people reprieve from my winter,” he started. “Th- Thank you,” you stuttered. “However,” his grin became more malicious, “If you do not provide me an heir by next spring, the winter will plague your lands until you do,” he whispered in your ear, placing a cold hand across your belly. His tone left no room for question, the future of your people depended on this. You were pulled out of your thoughts when Loki carried you to the furs next to the fire, warming you up even further, you hadn’t noticed you were shivering until you stopped. “I am a cruel god, but I will show mercy to those that deserve it,” he mumbled. His cool hands trailed their way down the column of your throat, you gasped as his lips flowed close behind. Stopping along the way to mark and nip you with his sharp teeth, the marks would scar. This was the closest anyone had ever been to you. His hands made quick work of the cord holding your dress together. He peeled the thin fabric away from you. You tried to cover your bare skin, but your hands wouldn’t move, held down by some sort of magic. His hands found your soft skin again, making you groan as he paid attention to your breasts. “What sweet sounds you make, little maiden.” He made eye contact with you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hands broke free and buried themselves into his hair, your head falling back in unfamiliar pleasure. He smiles with his wet lips, before moving onto the other. You felt like you were burning up inside. He let go of your nipple with a ‘pop’, the cool air brushing over them. “I hope these will be full soon.” His lips travelled down your abdomen to the tops of your thighs. His hands ran up your legs until they met his lips. In one swift movement he held them open, your legs over his shoulders as your wetness was exposed to him. You covered your face in embarrassment. His fingers ghosted over your sensitive flash, causing your hips to jerk at the sensation, wanting more. “Is your cunt dripping for your god?” His mouth was so close to your heat. He used his magic to remove your hands from your face, making you look at him again. His red eyes burned into yours as his tongue liked a stripe through your folds. You sighed at the feeling, tightening your thighs around him and wanting more. He continued to noisily suck, distracting you from his finger that began to enter you. The intrusion was so foreign to you, but you couldn’t help but give in. Wanting more. You felt so greedy, you had never felt this sort of wanting before. You didn’t think your mother would be happy with you if she found out. Loki began sucking at your sensitive bud, bringing you to the edge of whatever this was. “Please...” you breathed out. You looked down at him with teary eyes, you didn’t know what you were begging for. With one final suck, Loki had you seeing stars, finally falling off the edge you were headed towards. Your legs jerked around him, keeping him where he was as he looked up at you with amusement in his eyes. You looked down at him after coming down from your high, his face wet with your release. You let your legs relax, allowing him to move up to you, this time capturing your lips in a searing kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. He broke away, leaving you breathless. Using his magic, he quickly got rid of what little clothing he was in. You were right about the ridges being everywhere, your hands were loose again, and you reached for his chest, finally getting a feel of the cool skin. He growled as your fingers traced the ridges down to his stomach. His hands stopped yours as you reached his hips. You let your eyes wander down, they widened at the size of his cock. He chuckled at your reaction. “Mortals are quite adaptable are they not? I’m sure your cunt will be able to accommodate me.” He brought your hands to feel his ridged and velvety skin. He sighed at the feeling of your warm hands. He shuffled you around again, spreading you open for what was to come next. He rubbed his cock along your folds, the temperature difference already making you hiss. You didn't think he would fit. With one hand on your hip, he guided the tip to your entrance. Slowly, he pushed in, stopping to let you stretch around him until he bottomed out. The only way you could describe the feeling was ‘full’. You knew no mortal man could ever fill you like this, they wouldn’t even get the opportunity to. His hand pressed down on your stomach, “Can you feel me here?” he groaned. All you could do is nod, no coherent words forming any time soon. Both hands found your hips this time, he began to thrust in a steady rhythm, slowly picking up the pace. You knew you’d never get used to his size, however long you were here. The room filled with the sounds of skin on skin, you moaned anytime he hit that spot inside you. Loki moved you so effortlessly, as if you were simply a toy, made for his pleasure. The coil in your belly began to tighten again, you didn’t know how much longer you would last. “Please, My King… I…” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to fight the feeling.

“You want to cum again? So soon? Aren’t you being a little greedy mortal?” he taunted. His words made you clench around him a little tighter. You looked up at him with teary eyes, hoping he would show you this one mercy. “Pathetic little thing,” he grumbled, his fingers reaching for your clit, letting you tumble off the edge again. He kept on thrusting through your aftershocks, heightening the sensations. He fully sheathed himself inside you before his head fell back in ecstasy, pumping you full of his seed. You went limp on the furs, trying to catch your breath. The heat of the fire felt too much for you at that moment. Loki pulled himself out with an obscene noise, inspecting the aftermath of his work.

“Your people are lucky to have sent you, little mortal.” He effortlessly carried you back to the bed, letting you sink into the covers. “You were strong enough to last through receiving my seed, and you’ll be strong enough to carry my heir,” his hand rubbed your tummy, seemingly deep in thought, “Not many would have survived.” He climbed in behind you. You groaned as his fingers found your sensitive cunt. He speared you back onto his already hard cock, you whimpered at the stretch. “I’ll let you rest for a little while, but you will keep me warm until we can start again. You have a purpose to fulfil, remember?” “Yes My King,” you whispered back, trying to adjust to the foreign sensation.

#My writing #oneshot #loki laufeyson #loki x reader

47 notes · View notes

scintillasofbeomgyu · 3 years

Text

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ 𝗳𝗼𝘅'𝘀 𝗵𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗲𝘁𝗵 – part one: the beginning (cyj)

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader x kang taehyun

genre(s): fantasy, period!fic, nine-tailed fox!yeonjun, crown prince!taehyun, angst, fluff here and there

word count: 4,1k

the spirit who had been guarding the south side of the mountain, a nine-tailed fox, is requested by the crown prince of Joseon to make an appearance before his betrothed. though reluctant at first, he agrees on condition that their meeting is fleeting and under the guise of a mask.

an: this was inspired by the kdrama ‘tale of the nine-tailed’, hence the similar elements. events may or may not be historically accurate. ++ i’m really anxious about how this fic will be taken, but i’ve put too much effort in to let it sit in my drafts ksks. might post the part 2 if you want! let me know what you think!

(finally posting this as a gift for the immense support i’ve been receiving! thank you! ❤️ and low-key bc sumi has been thinkin about kitsune yeonjun)

Sealed by the promise of two youths many moons ago, your betrothal to the crown prince of Joseon was something which was not unbeknownst to anyone in the country. Many young ladies, noble and common alike, coveted your fortune and would make desperate pleas to the gods to have half the luck you did. And perhaps anyone else would have boasted about how fate had favoured them, but you didn’t.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?” his highness asked, raising an eyebrow as you continued to flip through the pages of a book you had picked up from his desk. You placed the book back where you found it and turned to look from the pavilion, out across the pond and above the canopy tops to the mountains in the distance.

What had intrigued you about the palace was not the status, nor the riches, nor the people who dwelt within it. After all, you preferred to be neck-deep in books of history and literature, poetry, and volumes which questioned which was myth and which was reality. Your father, though, was as open-minded as anyone else was about the education of women at the time – not at all. So you had resorted to killing two birds with one stone; appeasing your father by agreeing to meet with the prince meant getting your hands on books you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

But today, you had an entirely different motive.

“Do you believe in mythical beings, your Highness?” you asked, turning to face the prince who stared back at you, wide-eyed.

The seemingly sudden question had him taken aback.

From the very first meeting, you had puzzled Taehyun. Like you, although he knew he had to do it some day, the topic of his marriage hadn’t interested him. Or rather, it was more important to him that the person he would one day wed had the same interests as he did – the good of the people and the flourishing of the country.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t expect you to be as crazed about love and titles as the other noblewomen of Joseon were, at first. So he was pleasantly surprised when you had arrived at Gyeongbokgung, not batting an eyelash in his direction. But when he had attempted to open discussions about politics and solving the exorbitant taxes expected from the people, he’d find your nose buried in one of the books from the pile you sifted through by his desk.

Taehyun was already struggling to figure you out, and now you asked him this.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he cocked his head to the side, folding his hands behind his back. “have you come across something thought-provoking?”

“It’s quite straightforward; a yes or no question.” you shrugged, smirking as your eyes caught the not-so-discreet glances his personal guard and the eunuch had given one another.

Ultimately, to have relations with the throne was not all sunshine and roses. For your own protection, and to ensure you were not used as leverage against the king, your father had sent you very far from home – to Southern Jeolla. And it was upon your arrival back in Hanyang, after many years away, that you had come to hear the rumours which had surrounded the royal family.

A gumiho. A nine-tailed fox. The spirit which protected the forest. A being which could not be trusted. The one to whom the country owed it’s prosperity. The one at whose hands the country could fall into havoc.

You knew better than to believe the words of storytellers and self-proclaimed chroniclers. It was the fact that they had all said the same thing which had perturbed you. It left this unsettling feeling, which just wouldn’t fade away. So you read book after book, folklores and retellings, each and every documented account of those who had insisted they had seen the man with ‘eyes which glowed like hot embers even in the light of day’. It nearly drove you insane.

That was, until just this morning, when you had overheard the court ladies chattering away in hushed tones about how so-and-so had come to see the prince again, how much so-and-so frightened them, and how they wondered for how much longer the king would leave the future of the kingdom in the hands of such a wild-card.

You turned to look out beyond the trees again, a sudden gush of wind rattling their branches and sending their leaves sailing through the air. “Let me meet him. This... friend of yours, your Highness.”

“No.”

Taehyun nodded, taking a leaf from the shrub in front of him between his fingers, “I thought you’d say that.”

Yeonjun huffed, taking a bite out of one of the freshly picked apples the prince had brought along with him on his visit (as some sort of incentive, he supposed). The scowl he had adorned etched deeper into his face as Taehyun’s proposition crossed his mind a second time. He should have left the boy to the wandering spirits all those years ago, is what he thought. The fact that Yeonjun had allowed him to follow him around and meet with him must have made him cocky.

In the beginning, he trusted them. Yeonjun had spent thousands of years cultivating the forest and protecting those which lived beneath it’s canopy. He had taken an oath to never allow any harm to come to it, and as a sort of by-product, had taken up an arrangement with the king to hand over to him any miscreants who chanced into his territory. And for hundreds of years, this agreement was honored. King after king had revered the spirit who protected the people, throwing grand festivals in his honor.

Until humans did what they always do. They became consumed by greed and corrupted by power. They feared that the existence of a powerful being, and the esteem in which the people held it, threatened the very authority of the throne.

On a night which felt like yesterday to Yeonjun, the then king had convinced him to appear before the people, reasoning that he deserved to be celebrated and loved; not lurking in the depths of a forest where he wondered alone. His yearning for family provoked, he had left, only to return to enormous crackling fires which devoured everything in their path.

Now he was being asked to entertain the likes of one of them again? An insolent, entitled woman who was probably the daughter of some power-hungry government official nonetheless? He wouldn’t allow himself to be made a fool out of again.

“I’m aware you cannot leave the forest unguarded for long periods of time, especially at night,” Taehyun said, brushing the bits of earth from his hand onto his silk garment. “which is why I want to bring her here.”

The half-eaten apple hit the forest floor with a thud.

“What did you just say?” the same incredulity written on Yeonjun’s face, embedded into his voice.

Taehyun grinned sheepishly, “Hyung, can’t you do me this one favour?”

Quickly taking a seat beside him, the crown prince of the Joseon dynasty grabbed onto the sleeve of Yeonjun’s black robe and tugged at it. Yeonjun sucked a sharp breath of air through his teeth and slapped his hands away. The memory of a scared little boy in disheveled clothes, sobbing as snot ran down onto his lips crossed Yeonjun’s mind. He bit back the grin which fought to pull at his lips.

“I thought you weren’t interested in love? Why all the effort then?”

Taehyun dropped his hands from where they had been grappling at Yeonjun’s robe and stood up, clearing his throat before folding his hands behind his back again. Yeonjun smirked. “It’s not by choice, the woman in question is frightening. Only the gods would know the lengths she would have gone to had I refused her.”

Many minutes of back and forth bickering had passed before Taehyun managed to convince Yeonjun to appear before you. This reluctant agreement came with conditions, however. Leaving the mountain for even a moment during nightfall was out of the question, but that didn’t mean that he was okay with some suspicious woman wandering into his home. So, they had settled on the foot of the mountain closest to the north side. Yeonjun had also made sure to point out that although he had agreed to let you see him, he never agreed to introductions.

“You never struck me as the type to attend parties in the evening, your Highness,” you hollered from your palanquin which lagged behind his. When no reply came, you seethed, biting back the urge to punch a hole through the expensive wooden barrier in front of you. He had suddenly appeared at your father’s estate just as the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, not bothering to give an explanation before your father had the guards stuff you into the tiny varnished vehicle. “You haven’t yet answered me, your Majesty. The question from earlier.”

You cried out in pain when the palanquin was suddenly set down, tossing you up in the air like a shuttlecock. Hand still pressing down on your head from where it had hit the roof of the palanquin, you glared at Taehyun’s outstretched hand when the door folded open. You violently slapped the hand away and pulled back your skirt, nearly kicking his shins as you climbed out. Accidentally, of course.

Your behaviour amused Taehyun, a smirk finding its way to his lips. He whispered something to Soobin, his personal guard, who had given him a distressed look in return. He sighed as Taehyun placed a hand on his shoulder, giving a quick nod before returning to the entourage. You raised an eyebrow when Taehyun offered you a smile, gesturing his hand to the left of where the road forked into two.

The evening air was brisk; the various flora emitting a plethora of unique smells which blended together as they crawled into your nose. Leaves rustled as the forest creatures scurried across the floor; the occasional flapping of wings and hoots of the wide-eyed, mice-eating predators filling the otherwise eerie silence. The pale moon, which shone like a great halo in the sky, casted it’s light through the trees, creating beautiful natural skylights and mysterious shadows. The breeze was ever-so gentle, seemingly caressing your cheeks as you followed Taehyun down the path filled with earthy soil.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” He chuckled at the question you had posed. He took a firm hold of your hand as he helped you cross the stream you had encountered, squeezing it a little tighter as your shoe glided off some algae, smiling when he heard the under-the-breath cuss.

When you had both safely crossed over into the field of long grass on the other side of the bank, he caught his breath for a moment. “My men say there came a troupe from Jeonju in Northern Jeolla a few days back,” Taehyun started, motioning for you to follow behind him as he stalked through the vegetation.

You groaned. Just how much torture was he planning to put you through? Did he find out you had ‘borrowed’ some of the books from his shelf?

After another few dreadful minutes of walking, an enormous tree came into your sights. It’s trunk looked as if it could house a small population, and it’s branches spread far across the open space; a meadow. Taehyun smiled in satisfaction and wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead, before placing his hands on his hips. Was this what he wanted to show you? You were far too tired, and your feet hurt way too much to enjoy the sentiment.

“Right, as I was saying,” The prince continued. You took a seat on the soft blades of grass and began pulling the shoes off your aching feet. “Despite journeying across the country to perform in gisaeng houses, I’m told the productions of this troupe were rather enthralling – ”

The sound of your snorting earned a glare from the prince. You shook your hand, “I find myself in constant surprise this evening, your Highness,” you laughed. “Hearing the term‘gisaeng’ from your mouth would send chills down anyone’s spine.”

The distant strumming of a zither whispered in your ears and your body froze. Slowly, the field, which had been lit only by the silvery hues offered by the moon, glowed in shades of green and yellow as fireflies hovered in the air. Then the zither stopped. Your neck snapped in the direction of scuffling feet by the tree trunk. Figures dressed in black placed paper lanterns varying in size at the base of the trunk, before scaling up to the branches.

A gasp slipped from your lips when the zither had suddenly started playing again; much louder this time. Ribbons dropped from different branches around the tree, carrying men and women who spun as they unravelled. Sporting white masks in the form of a fox, they danced around the tree, twirling and swinging back, dipping low before soaring through the air with such delicacy it gave you goosebumps.

“This performance is called the Fox’s Hiraeth,” Taehyun whispered, eyes fixated on the scene before of him, “you asked the other day did you not? About gumihos in Hanyang.”

His Highness’ attempt to throw you off was painfully obvious in that moment, and it did not go unnoticed. But just before you could make the remark that you had been carefully curating for exactly this situation, the zither had come to a stop once again. Leaves rustled above you and you lifted your head into a pair of the prettiest eyes you had ever seen.

They were a shade of light brown; little flecks of green and amber peeking from in-between when light passed through them. Bewilderment swam in those sparkling orbs behind the mask, it’s wearer holding his breath, not looking away for even a moment. The feeling in your chest drew a smile onto your lips, so big, it pushed up the corners of your eyes.

“Hello.”

He pulled back suddenly, and a strong gust of wind blew right through you, making you squeeze your eyes shut. The wind seemed to blow harder and harder – Taehyun had to press his hands onto your shoulders to prevent you from being gone with it. When it had died down and you opened your eyes again, you shot up, shoving his hands away.

The lights had gone out and the fireflies were nowhere to be seen. The lanterns and the troupe too had vanished into thin air; leaving not a trace. But that was not what was distressing you.

Hands clenching fists into your satin skirt, your eyes searched desperately, “where did he go?”

“Who?” Taehyun questioned, tightening the black cloth strings of his gat. He blinked, feigning innocence so professionally, it antagonised you. “The performance is over; we should leave.”

Pulling your lips between your teeth, the agonizing feeling of having lost something important tearing at your chest, you made a decision. You were positive that Taehyun knew exactly what was going on, but you weren’t about to waste any more time trying to force an answer out of the tight-lipped prince.

Where the meadow under the peculiar tree ended, the forest started again, and spread all across the mountain. You could have been mistaken, and that man may have just been another one of the performers. But it was the forest. It felt as if it was calling out to you; screaming. Every one of your limbs ached to dash into its depths.

Taehyun cleared his throat and turned away instantaneously when he noticed you hurriedly tearing off your blouse. You tossed the garment carrying the golden emblem to the ground, and slipped your shoes back on, ignoring Taehyun’s voice which bombarded you with questions.

He grabbed onto your hand before you left and you stopped, peering down at where your bodies were joined. “It’s dangerous.” he said; his voice as firm as his grip, yet eyes pleading with you like those of a child.

Despite your fathers’ lasting friendship, you had never met Taehyun until a few days ago. And if you did, you couldn’t recall. The confounded stares he had thrown at you upon your arrival had amused you; they were not contrary to that of the other noblemen and their sons whom your father had introduced you to. You didn’t act like the prince’s woman – they had probably expected someone who they could easily manipulate and bribe to their liking – but you were very much the opposite.

It was his behaviour in the days that followed which had taken you by surprise. He’d have books stacked up all around his desk which varied in genre, and were organised by author and publication date, whenever you visited. He seldom spoke and never forced conversation with you, but he’d call for tea and sweets then leave them at a certain place on the tabletop untouched. You’d catch his eyes glancing up at you every once in a while in your peripheral vision, and a smile would find itself to your lips.

He cared for you and you had grown to care for him as well. But you knew that if you left with him right now, your insatiable curiosity would only grow and you’d just end up returning here anyway.

Placing your hands over his, eyes asking him to forgive you, you slipped out of his grasp.

“I’ll be okay.”

Yeonjun paced up and down the cliff once more. He glanced over his shoulder at the mask resting against a boulder behind him, then slapped his hands onto his face and lamented. He couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Everything was happening exactly as he had planned – the dokkaebi had put on their show, relishing in the fact that they were pranking humans; the trees, the breeze and the critters had agreed to set the mood for what he had intended to be your heart being won over by the Taehyun.

He peeked through the spaces in his fingers at the wooden guise, and proceeded toward it. He knelt down and picked it up, eyes fixating on the slots where they were housed previously. He was certain he had prepared for everything, but that all changed when his eyes met with yours.

They stared back at him in surprise, but that surprise slowly transitioned into a warmth which enveloped him; the light of the lanterns which reflected from them, inviting him closer. They scared him, too. Under the mask he had given himself the appearance of one of the lumberers who frequented the forest, but your eyes seemed to stare right through him. They reached into his depths, baring him before you.

Yeonjun glared, irritated with how foolish he had been. He should have trusted his instinct and refused Taehyun no matter how much he insisted. It was absurd that after all these centuries he still let himself fall prey to the ludicrous fantasy he would ever be able to live and feel as they do – he knew that was the real reason he had gone along with this preposterous idea.

His grip on the mask tightened before he hurled it into the bushes. Your voice exclaimed an ‘Ow!’, making him topple over in surprise. The golden rays of sun spilled over the summit just as you stepped out from the flora, bathing you in it’s warmth and highlighting your features as it chased away the night. You rubbed your head profusely where the mask had hit you, pausing when you noticed Yeonjun’s figure on the floor.

Hands on your hips, smiling in triumph, you blew the stray strands of hair from your face. “Found you.”

He had never in his life met such a vivacious woman. Your hair looked like a bird’s nest; tiny twigs and leaves buried within the now tousled black locks. There were tears in your hanbok. Stains of dirt, grass and mud soiled the skirt. Alas, you still had a stupid smile plastered across your mucky face. He caught himself before he started grinning like an idiot too, shuffling amongst the earth before rising with his back turned towards you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. Was he looking down on your intellect?

“You’re not very clever for an ancient spirit,” you remarked, tossing the mask at his feet. His frame froze, making you scoff.

The hair cascading down his back was a pale shade pink which shimmered under the light. It contrasted the pitch black robes he adorned, which were embroidered with silver. When he turned around to give you a look of wry amusement, you noticed the bangs which framed his face were more washed out in colour compared to the rest of his head. His slanted eyes were mono-lidded, and they glistened as beautifully as the night before. His lips were plump; it’s colour reminded you of the strawberry tanghulu you had seen in the market.

He stepped closer to you, smirking at the way you were entranced by his beauty, until his face stood only inches away from yours. You cast your eyes away from him, gulping as you took a step back. His eyebrows furrowed when you cringed, staggering before you fell to the ground.

“Are you alright?” he fretted, the role of the charismatic flirt quickly abandoning him as he helped you to your feet. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you into his arms, and carried you to a place where you could sit comfortably. You gripped only his garments tightly, eyes still refusing to meet with his; the scent of flowers lingering on your clothes as he set you down. “His Majesty did not accompany you?”

He knelt down beside you and pulled off your shoes. Blood had soaked into your socks from all the hiking you had done the night before – the back of your shoes had cut deep into your heels; climbing over boulders and through thick vegetation had made the soles of your feet sensitive and prone to cuts and scratches. He pulled his lip between his teeth, eyes shooting daggers into yours.

He poured some of the alcohol he had been storing over your wounds, and massaged in the compound he made of medicinal herbs he had momentarily disappeared to go and find. He tore pieces of his robe to bind them when he was finished, then folded his arms over his chest. “I’m taking you back to the palace.”

You jolted up from where you were seated; Yeonjun pushed your shoulders back down. “None of my questions have been answered, I’m not leaving until they are.”

“Don’t you have a prince to marry?” he contended, tapping a finger on his chin, “they’re not going to be impressed when you return looking like this.”

“What’s your name? Are you really a nine-tailed fox? How old are you? Do you eat human livers? If so, why? Is it true that you are only able to receive titles like the ‘Spirit of the Mountain’ when you don’t feed human on livers? Are you actually a woman? Do you really want the best for this country? Do you wish to bring it to ruin for your own pleasure? Is it true that – ”

He took a step closer to you, and lifted your chin with his finger, closing your mouth. You held your breath as his eyes flickered to your lips, and he smirked noticing the blush spread across your face. He reached behind you and pulled the jade pin from your hair, the tresses falling gently down your back. Bringing the hairpin before you, and his lips to your ear, he whispered, “I dare not rob the future king of his woman, my lady. You should return home for your own safety.”

His hand travelled down the length of your arm, trailing goosebumps and setting fire to your skin. He placed the pin into your hand and lifted it, brushing his lips across your knuckles. His eyes locked with yours and you gasped as they glowed like a setting sun.

A horse whinnied as it strode into the area, making you tear your eyes away from Yeonjun’s. Taehyun slid off it’s back, rushing to your side. He grabbed onto your shoulders brows furrowing as he examined you from top to bottom. “Are you alright, (Y/n)?”

You nodded absent-mindedly, searching for where he had gone. Taehyun led you to his horse, and lifted you onto the saddle, sighing as he found you still trying to see past the trees and their leaves. You squeezed onto your chest as you rode away, an inexplicable feeling overtaking you. You had to see him again. Not out of curiosity. No, you – you just had too.

Yeonjun held onto the trunk of the pine tree and swung his body around from the backside. Watching you ride off into the distance, eyes still set on finding him, he sighed, twirling the ring he had slipped off your finger around his.

“(Y/n), huh?” he muttered under his breath, exhilarated by the way it rolled off his tongue.

246 notes · View notes

s0ftness · 3 years

Text

lost and found | i

Summary: In dire need of a safe place, you stumble upon a kind stranger in the middle of the woods.

Pairing: Lumberjack!Thor x Reader, Lumberjack!Thor x Hispanic!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY. Mild mentions of physical injury, oral sex, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, fluffy shit.

Word Count: 5.8k+

A/N: So, this is my first time posting my work and I’m a little nervous, so any sort of feedback is greatly appreciated. Inspiration for this came directly from @imanuglywombat‘s and @nellblazer‘s Celebration of Lumberjack Smut Challenge. There’s a whole lot I’d like to explore with this pair, so there might be more parts in the future. Please let me know what you think!

Also, find this on AO3!

The sun was slowly making its way down the sky, eager to find rest behind the mountains, tinting the firmament indigo as stars began to blink awake. The temperature was also going down but sweat coated your skin and made your clothes stick to your body as you hiked up the mountain. Unsure of where you were even heading to, you ventured deeper into the woods in search for a safe place to spend the night. Unable to recall when your last meal was, your vision began to blur and you lost your footing for a second, slipping on a loose rock and ripping open your pants, the skin of your knee and palms scraped. Great, just what you needed. You wiped at the torn skin with the back of your sleeve, but there truly wasn’t much you could do. Darkness was creeping in closer, faster than you thought it would, and the sight of heavy clouds rolling in made your empty stomach clench with dread.

The sound was faint at first. And you stood in silence then, every muscle frozen. You hadn’t crossed paths with a bear yet or anything of the sort, but you knew there were countless dangers lurking in the shadows, and were well aware of your vulnerable state. Not tripping over your own two feet and splitting your head open so far had been a feat of its own, but an ever-present possibility nonetheless. Holding your breath for as long as you could, you trekked forward as silently as possible, slowly beginning to discern the rhythmic pattern of the sound. Not an animal, then.

Not far from where you were, the trees gave way to a clearing and you realized you were now on somebody’s private property. And that somebody was chopping wood.

You shuddered at the thought of a crazy man chasing you away with an axe, but you didn’t have many options here, not to mention you were running out of time. After drawing in one deep, fortifying breath, you cautiously made your way over. The rustling of leaves and crunching branches beneath your feet gave you away, apparently, because the figure suddenly stood still. Your fingers grazed over the rough bark of the tree in front of you, and you peeked around it.

Just a few feet away from you, stood a tall man. Huge, really. Your eyesight wasn’t your most reliable sense right then, but he looked strong. And alone. Truly, you weren’t sure either of those things were good or bad, but your body was too weak to hold you up any longer and you feared you might pass out right there on the treeline.

Holding up both hands in what you hoped was an appeasing gesture, you moved forward as slowly as you could. He remained rooted to the ground, right next to the stump he used as a chopping block, his hand wrapped loosely around his axe by the handle.

“No trouble…” you croaked out in a heavily-accented voice, as you took a trembling step forward. “Not looking for trouble,” you attempted to clarify.

That seemed to amuse him, as he snorted a bit. You didn’t look like you could cause much trouble, even if you wanted to. You looked like you’d been through hell and had barely made it out. If you felt like shit, the way his face contorted into a deep frown when you stepped into the light made it clear you looked even worse. With a soft thump, he lodged the axe on the stump and made his way over to you. You cringed instantly, stumbling back a few steps when he got too close.

“You alone?” His voice was deep and rich, but he quickly glanced around to check along the treeline for good measure. You nodded, but the motion sent your head spinning and you stumbled a bit.

“I just need somewhere to be tonight. I think a storm is coming,” you murmured, the lilt of your voice barely audible at such volume. A couple of warm hands reached forward to grab you by the upper arms, steadying you. He half expected you to bolt, but you surprised him by slumping in his grip. With a low sigh, he led one of your arms to wrap around his shoulders as he held up most of your weight while walking you up the front steps of his cabin.

Once inside, he placed you on a loveseat by the fireplace. There was no fire burning, but you felt much warmer indoors. He grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the seat and laid it over you. You frowned in confusion by his kindness, but decided it was probably in your best interest to keep your mouth shut for a while. As he stood this close, tucking the fabric around your shoulders and feet until you felt like a blanket burrito, you finally got a chance to look at him. Like, really look at him.

Boy, was he beautiful.

He looked like he’d had a long day, too. His eyes were tired, but kind, and impossibly blue. His long blond hair was messy but tied at the back of his neck in a low ponytail. You faintly wondered if he’d been sculpted by gods, because that bone structure was to die for. If you had had even one ounce of energy left in your body, you probably would’ve used it to touch his cheek to make sure he was real. His beard was thick and suited him well, and you wondered if it felt as soft as it looked. His lips were full and plump, and they were… moving?

Oh. He was speaking to you.

“... in a while. I can heat up some soup for you, if you want.”

You blinked a couple times as you forced your eyesight to focus. The man let out a quiet sigh and gave your shoulder a gentle pat.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

So you did. All bundled up and warm, you battled yourself to maintain your eyes open as he headed to the kitchen. For soup, you reminded yourself. For you. That was the moment your stomach decided to growl embarrassingly loudly, and you sunk deeper into the soft, worn leather of the sofa.

A gentle shake on your shoulder awakened you, and you jolted a bit in surprise.

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s okay, you dozed off for a bit. Why don’t you eat this? It’ll make you feel better.” He then placed a large bowl of hot soup on your lap and you wrapped both hands around it. Your eyes were impossibly round and doe like, and your host had to force himself to look away.

“Thank you, er… uh…”

“Thor,” he offered as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the coffee table across from you. “My name’s Thor.”

“Thor,” you repeated softly, savouring the foreign word in your tongue. He swallowed hard. You offered your own name in return. “Thank you, Thor.”

He hummed in response and rose to his feet to kneel in front of the fireplace to set up some wood in it and get it going. The flames took on quickly and you let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thor glanced at you over his shoulder, and found you raising the bowl to your lips to gulp down the broth eagerly. A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth, but he quickly rose to his feet and walked away.

It wasn’t often that Thor had visitors. He had never had any, to be honest. Ever since he’d come back to Earth after wandering the universe senselessly, he’d been on his own. Up there, he longed for home. But home no longer existed, not to him anyway. Everybody he had ever considered to be home was gone now, so he’d decided to build one for himself out here. It got lonely sometimes, but it was peaceful, and that was much more than he thought himself worthy of.

Inside his bedroom, he rummaged through his things to find a few pieces of clothing you could wear and set them on the foot of his bed. Next, he went into the bathroom and drew you a bath with the hottest water he could offer, and threw in some bubbles for good measure. He’d always loved a good bubble bath, and you looked like you could keep a secret.

With everything set up for you to clean up, he made his way back to the living room to find you laying on your side on the floor in front of the fire. You were curled up in a little cocoon under the blanket he’d given you, and you were lazily watching the flames dance over burning wood, your eyelids getting heavier by the second. Thor bit the inside of his cheek and went to kneel next to you, one broad hand coming to rest on your shoulder.

“I prepared a bath for you. There are also some clothes on the bed you can wear. Just leave your dirty ones in the bathroom and I’ll take care of it, yeah?”

You rolled onto your back and gazed up at him, brows knit together in confusion. “You really don’t have to do all this. I can just stay here and leave when the sun comes up.”

“Nonsense,” he replied with a shake of his head. He rose to his feet and held out a hand for you to take, hauling you up onto your feet and grimacing apologetically when you winced in pain. Your hand felt minuscule engulfed by his, but you relished the warmth as he led you through his home and to the bathroom. Against the far wall, was a beautiful wood bathtub and you gave in to the impulse to brush your fingertips along its smooth side before dipping them in the hot water. A wide smile spread on your face. It had been longer than you’d like to admit since you’d had a proper bath, even longer one with warm water. You turned to face your host to thank him, but the sheer emotion in your glazed-over eyes nearly knocked him off his feet.

Thor cleared his throat and walked over to hand you a washcloth and a bar of soap, but your free hand came up to trap both his ridiculously large hands between yours.

“You… you don’t have to go,” you whispered, gaze fixed on your joint hands.

Thor flushed red in an instant. He pulled both hands back like he’d been burned by you, and rubbed his sweaty palms on the front of his worn jeans. The hurt in your expression made him want to punch himself. He opened his mouth to speak, only to clamp it shut when he was unable to come up with a proper response.

You merely gave him a half smile and took a step back, closer to the tub. Without releasing his gaze, you toed off your boots and pulled your hoodie over your head. He swallowed tightly, and his pupils dilated. His eyes were dark now, a thin ring of stormy blue where there had been sparkling sea glass before. You weren’t sure what had come over you, you weren’t usually this bold, but the whole thing seemed surreal and it had been far too long since you’d felt warm and cared for. He was a ridiculously attractive man and you knew a longing stare when you saw one. Even if it was just for a moment, you both seemed like you could use the company.

Nimble fingers pulled your pants open before pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them. Your knee was scraped and bruised, but Thor could hardly focus on that when you were slowly exposing miles and miles of soft skin. You wore nothing under your long-sleeved shirt, and a pained sound ripped through him at the sight. Your velvet skin was littered with small cuts and bruises, some around the base of your throat and what he could’ve sworn were fingerprints around your arms, causing him to frown deeply. You were covered in grime and dry blood, and he felt his hands twitch into fists at his sides. He had no idea who you were or where you’d come from, but he’d known the second he laid eyes on you that you had nowhere else to go. It was a feeling he knew all too well by now. He didn’t have much to offer, he was merely the broken shell of the man he used to be; but somebody had hurt you, and you stumbled into his life because fate willed it so. He was no King, no god, no warrior. Not anymore. But you seeked no king, no riches… you seeked solace. And he felt you deep inside his soul.

Unaware of his own movements, Thor found himself standing right in front of you, hands hovering the curve of your hip bones. Yours lead them to touch you, the tips of his fingers hooking into the soft fabric of your undergarments before pulling them down your thighs and letting them fall to the ground by your feet. Despite his form towering over you, you did not feel intimidated. You felt confident and desirable, powerful even. You called the shots here, you had him wrapped around your finger, and he looked more than ready to drop to his knees to worship you.

Thor vaguely wondered if you were real at all, or if perhaps this was some fantasy his mind had created to chase away the coldness of solitude. He lifted one hand to ghost over the side of your face, and you leaned gratefully into the touch. The rough pad of his finger grazed over the apple of your cheek, down the slope of your nose and over the shape of your plush mouth. You puckered up your lips to press a soft kiss to his thumb, the tip of your tongue peeking out after to taste the salty skin. His jaw clenched and his grip tightened, said thumb pushing past your lips and into your scorching hot mouth. You opened wide for him, eyes fluttering closed, now standing on the tips of your bare toes and leaning into him as you swayed in your spot. His free hand came to rest on the small of your back, steadying you, pressing you forward against him while he watched, entranced, the way your warm wet tongue swirled around his finger. Thor withdrew his hand enough to make your lips release him with a soft pop, and he dragged the digit across your lips, wetting them with your saliva. You licked your lips together and leaned forward, blindly chasing after his touch, only to meet his mouth with your own.

The sound you made was angelic, and he was certain he couldn’t have made you up. Not you, not this perfect, not this warm. Both your arms slid up to drape over his broad shoulders, and he bent down to kiss you deeply, slowly, unwilling to let a single inch of you untouched. Carefully, he led you to take a couple steps backwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of the tub.

“Get in,” he commanded gruffly.

You felt his voice right in your core.

Lip caught between pearly whites, you kept your gaze trained on him as you carefully stepped inside the bathtub. A soft sigh escaped you then, and you let your head fall back, soaking your hair in the warm water. Thor quickly discarded his clothes, kicking them off to the side before climbing inside behind you. You pouted for a second, sulking for missing your chance to admire him in all his nudity for he’d moved in a blur. The sentiment was shortfelt, though, when he pulled you to lean back against him, his broad torso surrounding you as he encased you in his arms. He stretched comfortably, the entire tub clearly customized to fit his large form.

One wide palm lay flat on your belly, pressing you back against him until you sat on his thighs, and you swallowed a moan when you felt him settle comfortably between your cheeks. You rolled your hips back experimentally and his breathing hitched. A wicked smile curling your lips, you peered back at him through your lashes as you repeated the motion. Thor growled softly and pinched the inside of your thigh, making you squeal and attempt to squirm away. The palm on your stomach held you still while his mouth ran from the top of your shoulder, along the curve where it met your neck, and up to nibble at the shell of your ear. He then reached over to grab the bar of soap and lathered up the washcloth to begin washing you.

He rubbed your tender skin carefully until you were clean from head to toes. He’d even delved between your legs to wash you there, but his touch was much too gentle to appease your burning need. Soft mouth sounds came from him, soothing you into relaxation as he took care of you in ways you never dared imagine. Nobody in your life had touched you with such gentleness and patience, and when he started washing your hair, carefully running his fingers through your locks to detangle them, you lost it.

Crystal tears rolled down your flushed cheeks and you squeezed your eyes shut. Thor made no comment about it, and instead just kept on humming softly while massaging your scalp. After he rinsed your hair out, you wiped away at your face before carefully turning in his arms to straddle him, this time his length coming to nestle between your lower lips, and you couldn’t help grinding down on him, gliding your core along his shaft from root to tip. This time, he made no move to stop you, both his hands coming down to grab your backside tightly.

You nearly gave in, the blunt head of his cock resting right against your entrance, merely a hair’s breadth away from slipping inside you. But you were not done with him, not yet. So you scooted back to sit on his upper thighs again and grabbed the washcloth from the edge of the tub to lather it up with soap and begin repaying him in kind for his gentle treatment.

Thor couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d been with a woman, and he felt giddy and excited like a young lad. Not that it mattered really. No other woman mattered when he had you right there, in his arms: real, tangible, his. Perhaps only for a second, but his nonetheless. He captured your mouth in a searing kiss, and it took a ridiculous amount of sheer willpower to break apart from his scrumptious mouth.

“Don’t distract me, I’m not done,” you mumbled between stolen kisses. Thor gave your ass a rough squeeze and you yelped softly.

“Do hurry up then, little one. Water’s running cold.”

After turning on the heater in his room, Thor walked out to lock up for the night. Seemingly unfazed by the cold weather, he strolled around the cabin barefoot, his nudity barely concealed by the towel perched precariously low on his hips. You followed him around like a lost puppy, wrapped up in the bathrobe he’d lent you, the length of it nearly dragging against the floor. Once he made sure all the doors and windows were locked, he approached the fireplace to put it out but you rapidly protested.

“You don’t have to do that! I- I meant what I said earlier. I can stay right here and leave first thing in the morning. You’ve already done so much for me.”

Your words put a furrow between his brows so he went to stand right in front of you. With two fingers tucked under your chin, he tilted up your head to gaze directly into your eyes. His voice was low, and you struggled not to look away, his grip on you tightening when you tried to. “Is that what you want?”

You shuffled your feet nervously and chewed on your lip, a nervous habit you hadn’t been able to quit. “You’ve been so kind to me, a total stranger, and I-'' Your mouth clamped shut when he grunted in protest, his frown deepening.

“That’s not what I asked. Tell me, is that what you’d prefer?”

Struggling to word a proper response, you merely opened and shut your mouth like a gaping fish. His gaze flickered down to your lips, but his own were set in a stern line. You shook your head no. He rose one thick eyebrow questioningly. You swallowed the lump in your throat and straightened your spine.

“No. I’d rather be with you.”

Thor hummed lowly in response, clearly pleased. Bending down slightly, he gave you a quick, chaste kiss before turning back and walking away to put out the fire. You merely stood there, waiting for him to finish while you rubbed your cold feet together and toyed with the long sleeves of the thick robe. Once he considered everything to be in order, he approached you again and took your hand in his to lead you back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked timidly, inching closer to him to slide both arms around his tapered waist from behind. Your cold nose pressed against the space between his shoulder blades, lips ghosting over his freckled skin. He shuddered, but it wasn’t because he was cold. He was surprisingly warm, and when he slowly spun in your embrace to face you, your cheek went to rest against his broad chest, gently rubbing against the light dusting of hair there.

The air in the bedroom was thick and warm thanks to the heater, and you could feel your muscles loosen as warmth seeped into them. After shaking his head in response to your question, he brought up one of those ridiculously large hands of his to cradle the back of your head as he leaned down to brush a kiss against the crown of your head. “Come, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

You really were, but your blood was boiling and your skin was buzzing, and sleep couldn’t be farther from your mind. You stepped back and closer to the bed, your fingertips trailing down his torso to give his towel a gentle tug. Thor merely watched you, curiosity and desire dancing in his heated gaze. Despite his body’s pleas, he didn’t budge. You huffed out a low breath and gave the fabric another tug, more insistent, and he took one step forward, the tail of the towel tucked against his skin coming loose. If you moved your hand back, it would fall to the ground, and god, you really wished he’d make this easier on you. He wanted you and you knew that. You saw it in the ferocity of his eyes, in the flaring of his nostrils, in the clench of his jaw. Hell, you could even see it through the stupid towel he made no effort to get rid of.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched you grow impatient, but he’d be lying if he denied you made all his blood pool in his groin, his head dizzy and oxygen-deprived. He was dying to run his hands all over your body, over your impossibly soft skin, over every dip and curve of your silhouette, he wanted to kiss and taste you, and discover every beautiful sound he could coax out of you… But what he wanted didn’t matter now. Thor was aware you were a tough one, he’d known it the second he saw you, but you could still be fragile in many ways he didn’t quite know yet. If this was going to happen, it would have to happen on your terms. Because you willed it so. Because you wanted him.

One small fist still clutched the fabric against his body while your free hand reached out to grab his and place it over the knot keeping your robe together. He instinctively gave the small bow a single yank and both sides of the robe fell open. Thor drew in a deep breath and, unable to hold himself back any longer, he slid one hand over your bare stomach and around your circumference, fingertips digging into the small of your back to tug you forward. In that instant you let go of his towel and let it fall to the floor in a heap. A loud whine escaped you at the sight, and you fell to your knees.

He was instantly reaching to hoist you up, but you were already pressing your face against his muscled thigh, nuzzling the coarse hair coating it and inhaling deeply his scent. He smelled like musk and pine trees, like freshly turned ground and a brewing storm. You whimpered and pressed your face against the soft spot between his inner thigh and his hip before licking up a broad stripe there. Thor’s knees buckled, but his hands instinctively went to run through your soft hair and massage your scalp. His erection stood proudly, thick and hard as steel. You mouthed softly at the entire length, your pink tongue peeking out to kitten lick his soft skin. The fingers in your hair tightened their grip as you leisurely made your way to the tip, pressing a kiss to it before opening your mouth wide and welcoming him in.

It was unlike you, to drop to your knees for a man. Particularly one you virtually knew nothing about. But it was like your body acted on its own around him, abandoning all sense of shame or even self-preservation, driven by something deeper, wilder inside you that had laid dormant until now. He tasted both tart and sweet, and you let go of your inhibitions as you devoured him like a woman starved. His sighs and low grunts only fueled your desire, egging you on to bob your head and swallow around mouthfuls of him.

Too long. It truly had been way too long, and Thor was clinging to whatever remnants of his sanity were left when you worked him like you knew exactly what he needed. It was difficult enough to not let go the second you took him in your mouth and coat your throat with his hot spend. Unable to hold it together any longer, Thor carefully pulled you away despite his own protests, an obscene whine escaping him at the crude sight of his cock slipping out of your mouth, slick with spit and desire. He entertained the thought of shoving himself back down your throat for a split second, but the better part of him knew he needed to be inside you right then or else he would combust.

Somehow managing to keep his touch gentle, he all but shoved you back onto the bed while peeling the offending robe off your frame. You were truly exquisite. His lips latched onto your sensitive neck to lick and nibble its tender skin until faint bruises bloomed from within, hellbent on replacing the marks on your body with ones you wouldn’t recoil from when you looked at yourself in the mirror (he hoped so, at least). Repeating the motions, Thor slowly made his way down your body, refusing to neglect a single inch, to kiss and lick and suck, staking his claim over you.

You were a writhing mess beneath him, sweaty hands reaching out to hold onto him, caressing and clutching onto his shoulders, the blunt edges of your fingertips leaving crescent-shaped dents in the vast field of tan skin. “Kiss me, please,” you pleaded breathlessly, attempting to wiggle in his grasp enough to capture his mouth in yours.

Thor obliged happily. One warm hand cupped your cheek as he kissed you deep and slow, while the other reached to grab a pillow to place under your hips, propping you up at the right angle for him to slide right inside you. At first, you feared the intrusion to be too much to handle. Your lower half grew stiff as concrete but he laid his free hand on your belly, holding you in place when the rocking motion of his hips began. Despite the fire burning violently within him, Thor’s body moved in controlled, smooth waves, easing himself deeper into you, inch by inch. The tension in your muscles slowly evaporated as pleasure came to reign, the sounds emanating from you going from shaky intakes of breath to quiet whimpers and soft moans.

His thrusts were slow and shallow at first but your body soon grew hungry for more, aching to soothe the hollow pain of places so intimate you’d forgotten about.

“Thor,” you whispered breathlessly against his moving mouth. He hummed lowly in acknowledgement though he refused to break the deep kiss you shared. “Thor… please, más,” you pleaded.

Propping himself up on one elbow, he pulled back enough to look down at your flushed face. A small crease formed on his forehead out of confusion, unable to recall the meaning of such word. Your hands currently clawing at his hip bones were more straightforward. You were tugging on him, urging his body closer between your legs, deeper inside you. With one particularly deep thrust, he bottomed out and released a deep, animalistic growl in stark contrast to the loud cry of pleasure you let out.

“Más, más! Sigue, sigue así, por favor… oh dios, no pares – Thor! T-Thor!”

Thor’s chest swelled with pride when realization dawned on him. You were so out of your mind with pleasure, your brain had regressed into your native tongue as you begged him to keep on. Your back bowed off the bed, hips propped up by the pillow as you moved your body in tandem with his, meeting him halfway in every rock of his hips. His forearm slid under the back of your knee and lifted your leg higher, your knee brushing your side while he made the most of the new angle, shoving himself deep inside you. Your cries of pleasure were obscene, loud and shameless, and Thor relished every single one. He kissed you deep and hard, swallowing your moans and muffling his own while the slapping of skin against skin and wet squelching sound of your coupling reverberated through the room.

Unable to concentrate enough to continue kissing him, you merely lost yourself in his hot, dark gaze while both your hands clutched handfuls of his long, slightly damp hair. Your jaw quivered and your eyes rolled back in your head out of sheer pleasure, and Thor was certain he’d died and gone to Valhalla. You were definitely the most sublime creature he’d ever laid eyes upon, and to see you come undone beneath him in such fashion, nearly threw him over the edge. Strong-willed as he was, he refused to find his own release until he’d satisfied you thoroughly, so the calloused pad of his thumb travelled south to catch the bundle of nerves hidden between your slick folds. Your sex was tender and puffy, your clit swollen and firm like a pearl. He drew small circles on your skin then, despite your protests and attempts to ease on the overstimulation currently making your brain short-circuit. One after the other, Thor coaxed the most delicious, toe-curling orgasms out of you until you were weeping, hot streaks of tears running down your burning cheeks. With one final deep push, he found his own release, grunting through it against your throat.

You were a sweaty, trembling mess. Utterly exhausted as you were, you struggled to keep your eyes open despite the blissed out expression on your face. Taking pity on you, Thor carefully dislodged himself from you and rolled to the side to lay beside your frame. Your body curled against his side instinctively, seeking his warmth as you snuggled into a little ball beneath his arm. Thor was unable to suppress a smile as he watched you get comfortable.

He disliked denying you of your much needed sleep, but his need to provide for you was far greater. After soundlessly slipping out of bed for a quick trip to the kitchen, he nudged you awake as he brought a glass of water to your lips.

“Drink up, little one,” he cooed lowly. You blinked heavily up at him for a moment before gratefully gulping down the cool liquid, soothing the dry aching of your now-sore throat. Downing the rest of it himself, he reached over to set the empty glass on his bedside table and fetch a piece of sliced apple to offer you.

Thick fingers pressed the small piece of fruit to your lips, and you parted them obediently. It was crisp and juicy, and your sensitive tummy rumbled gratefully. Although confused by and unaccustomed to his caregiving, you basked in it. It was a brand new yet wholly pleasant experience, to say the least.

Once you’d finished your food, Thor pulled up his thick bedding to cover both your bodies, his wrapping protectively around yours. With his bare chest pressed to your back, he nuzzled his face into your hair and bent his legs to tuck them under your bum. After scooting back to mold your body against his and leading his muscled arms to embrace you, you both quickly fell into deep slumber.

For the first time in a long time, nightmares were nowhere to be found.

The following morning, you woke up warm and relaxed. Your body ached a bit, but each pang of pain sent an electric shock right to your core. For the first time, your aches were born out of passion and pleasure. Waking up to a heavy body draped over you and ocean-blue eyes watching you intently did catch you off guard at first, panic threatening to seep deep into your bones. Thor was quick to chase away the darkness creeping on the corners of your mind (and his) when he kissed you, and proceeded to claim your body again. It was slow and lazy, and everything you never knew you needed.

After breakfast, you sat on the loveseat by the fireplace with a steaming mug cradled between your hands, curiously studying your surroundings. The sound of the front door opening broke you out of your reverie, and you peeked from the back of the seat to watch Thor toeing off his heavy boots and hanging his coat near the entrance. The second his gaze landed on you, a heartfelt smile crept on his lips. You took a tentative sip from your beverage to conceal your own, attentive eyes following his every movement as he made his way over to pour himself a cup and join you on the sofa. Large hands crept under the blanket draped over your legs to grasp your ankles and lead them to rest over his knee while he sat back against the armrest, facing you.

“So,” he spoke calmly, piercing blue eyes boring into yours. “What’s your story?”

PART II

#thor x reader #thor odison x reader #thor imagine #lumberjack!thor #lumberjack!thor x reader #fic #thor fic #smut #lamb writes

187 notes · View notes

author-morgan · 3 years

Note

This why we have AO3, they're constantly trying to fight for fanfiction to exist on their own. Writers have presented people with lawsuits because they don't like what people are writing about and tumblr has decided okay, its fine, monetize your work. Even with Kofis, you're playing with fire. That's why I extremely dislike authors who put works behind paetron. If it's not original content that you created by you, you don't get that right to be like I'm going to make money off of it. Especially with Disney and Nintendo, if you're making money off their properties, they will find out and send a cease and desist letter, telling you, if we catch you again, we will sue you and we don't care if you at McDonald's. People who are jumping into this and not understanding fanfiction's past. Websites would be deleted overnight and thousands of fics lost, has anyone seen fanfiction.net? That's on its last leg, people are talking about it only has 3 or 4 more years left until its deleted. They had major purges of nsfw content, changed their terms of service to appease people who were coming after of them. This is why AO3 exist to protect fanworks and to protect your favorite writers from getting sued out of their asses and people don't get it

T H I S. AO3 is a godsend, especially for fanfic writers, and I hate seeing people drag it for not being 'aesthetically pleasing' like Wattpad. The volunteers at AO3 are doing a lot more to protect us from being taken to court over fanfic than people at Wattpad and Tumblr.

People really have forgotten the roots of fandom and the struggles people endured for us to be able to enjoy fanworks, safely, on various platforms now. The best way to stay safe? Don't paywall your fanworks. And if you do take commissions or advertise 'donations' or participate in Post+ for fanworks, then know the risks you're taking by doing that. And know that it could very well mean the end of Tumblr. I buy into FF.net being on its last leg, but for more reasons beyond copyright. One time I used my login info and was signed into someone else's account, big oof, and support still has not supplied an answer about how that happened. But it's true, FF.net is a prime example of what can happen. FF.net is a hot mess and has been for as long as I've known it existed, they do not even allow fics in second POV (so none of my reader fics ever get posted there) and, gods yes, the purges are notorious (the scary thing? Wattpad is literally following the same model of purging NSFW content —yet they allow NSFW content in their paid stories). People need to be aware of the past and what had to happen for fandom spaces to exist without running the risk of having lawsuits taken out, or you know, getting entire websites taken down. The best way to repay your favorite fandom content creators? R E B L O G. It's free, it's showing support for the creator, and it takes all of 10 seconds to do (maybe a few more if you need to scream or keyboard smash in the tags).

#sierra replies #postplus #god this whole situation is a nightmare #ive met so many good friends on tumblr #and despite the constant complaining #it really is one of the better social media platforms of late #there's no verification or public follower count and the posts are still in order by time of reblog #like do we really want to lose *this* space?#be aware guys #know what's going on #stay safe #and remember #don't paywall your fanworks and it'll all be smooth sailing

46 notes · View notes

savebound · 3 years

Text

a world exists outside of light vs dark.

ralsei’s well aware of this. instructions delivered upon the laps of those within the Heaven, he speaks to kris as they are the vehicle, the deliverer of the actions of those above. while the average darkner worships the lightners as their Gods, their reason for existing, there exists far greater a Light, desirable to the touch. actions described as “press [Z]”, higher planes of knowledge described as “inventory”... darkners, to some extent, are aware of this information, prepped with it in order to better serve the lightners whose happiness is their only purpose.

but ralsei carries cards few darkners do. other darkners try to, but are deemed as nonsensical... SPAMTON, who sought to become “big”, to grow beyond himself; and JEVIL, who embraced a kind of nihilism that turned into liberation. each became bigger than themselves, and yet one went behind prison bars, and the other, a dumpster diver. is it precedent, then, that keeps ralsei so tight-lipped... and further, who doesn’t let the lightners ask too many questions?

“I... don’t think it meant anything, Susie.”

only ralsei really knows. SPAMTON speaks of strings, and ralsei smiles obliviously, says he’s worried about kris. JEVIL speaks of the world revolving, and ralsei shrugs at his companions, though he insists to you if he’s a devil, he’s a good devil, okay?

don’t think about it. don’t think about it. it’s a fun adventure, don’t think about it. there’s nothing to be done, anyway; just keep Them appeased, and it’s no problem anyway, is it? everyone wants to do basically the right thing, even those who live in Heaven. especially those who live in Heaven.

#[* ralsei headcanon.]#(( he is not evil. he's just trying to fulfill his role. ))#(( you know how it is. ))#(( is ralsei really ralsei? hmm... what even is 'ralsei-like' when ralsei exists for kris and susie? ))#(( for the fate of the world? ))#(( it's funny how having friends makes you come to a very slow realization of autonomy ))#(( better ignore the implications of that... ))#(( we wouldn't want our mission statement to be compromised... ))#(( because then who is ralsei if he is not the dark prince #meant to make lightners happy? ))

10 notes · View notes

anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Slips of the Mind (The Mask of Death Series)

Colonel Wullf Yularen would like to say he was comfortable with his position within the Empire. He would like to say that he was proud of the transition he’d made from the Republic era, into the new era of dictatorship; maintaining his rank as one of the military figureheads. In a Galaxy torn apart by civil war, with a rising number of small factions joining the Rebel Alliance to revolt, he would like to say his job was as secure as they come. With no end in sight - although that wasn’t for the Empire’s lack of trying, as they doubled down on their efforts to persecute and eliminate the competition - he looked forward to a stable future, with a stable income, and a stable hand to play.

From admiral, to colonel, little had changed. But even he had his limits, and though he had once fought for the Republic naval forces - teamed up with the most reckless of Jedi generals - the man he had been paired with to overview the latest reports from the Imperial Security Bureau made even him feel tense and uncomfortable.

As he followed through, he almost regretted the choice. Initially, he had been sent to relay information to Grand Moff Tarkin. It was the usual debriefing, catching up in person every six weeks. In between, there’d be transmissions and holomessages. Initially, Grand Admiral Thrawn had been dispatched to join. Key word was initially. Instead of the semi regular procedure, Tarkin had been called off to oversee director Krennic’s progress on the beginnings of the 'secret weapon of the Empire; The Death Star. Thrawn had been delayed, foiled by a baited trap laid by rebel forces. Hence, when Yularen made his case to the Emperor himself; the most powerful man in the Galaxy had asked him not to worry, and assured him that he would be adequately received. There was a standin he may relay his findings to. Yularen had hoped that the cryptic, musing tone the Emperor used meant nothing. Still, he had already suspected whom he would have the pleasure of dealing with before the hydraulic doors slid open.

He wasn’t wrong.

He heard the even, rhythmic breathing cycle of a periodic respirator before he saw the man. Back turned towards him, Darth Vader stood with his hands folded behind his back; peering out through the floor length viewport of an office in what had once been the Galactic Senate. He appeared to be eyeing the setting sun, as it crawled lazily along the horizon; the coruscanti cityscape and its towering buildings mere shadows set against its dying orange rays. Keeping his head held high, Yularen entered and approached the freshly revised holoprojector planted in the middle of the room. Eyeing first Vader’s looming figure, the light reflected in the polished durasteel of his domed helmet, Yularen opted to trigger the fanning shades. The room would need to be darker, at least this close to twilight. He knew Vader was already aware of his presence, even as the shades began to unfold, covering the vast viewport inch by inch.

“Colonel Yularen,” said Vader promptly, his deep voice rumbling as he finally turned to look at the other man.

“Lord Vader,” Yularen greeted in turn, with a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I regret the circumstances demanding your attendance. I know this is well beyond your disposition.”

“Indeed. however, it occurs to me that little can be done to alter the issue at the moment. As such, we may proceed. I have been informed that you carry news of great interest to the Empire. I shall see to it that they are adequately conveyed - granted that I deem them worthy of such note.”

Yularen pursed his lips into a thin line, but offered another nod.

He’d always been unnerved in Vader’s presence. Sure, the times they found themselves forced to cooperate had been few and far between. But there was an uncanny quality to Vader, one Yularen had never sensed with another being. He remembered the days of the Clone Wars, commanding vast star fleets in direct battle. He remembered powerful Jedi knights, remembered the mystical, near whimsical aura they seemed to surround themselves with. Perhaps it was inherent to their nature, perhaps it was just their way of carrying themselves. He had seen the Force work in impossible ways; this unseen power, the root of the Jedi’s ancient religion. It was genuine, as real as the air he breathed. He had even spent an uncomfortable amount of time in the presence of a Sith Lord. Count Dooku had once been restrained on his vessel, albeit briefly, in holding before his separatist forces - led by the dreaded cyborg General Grievous - had come to his aid. Dooku’s veneer, his cold yet sophisticated flair, had been unsettling. There had been a chill in the air, much like a crisp, early autumn morning. One where dew became thin layers of frost, and ice crystals bloomed along branches and vegetation. Reminiscent of the freezing temperatures of Orto Plutonia, or Hoth, or Ilum.

Vader possessed the same icy cold quality, the same ability to suck any warmth out of every room he entered - but much amplified. The first time, Yularen had been surprised to find his fingertips numb when he left a meeting where Vader had been in attendance. Exactly how much of this imposing aura the man had direct control over, Yularen couldn’t say, but it seemed to vary from time to time.

Sometimes, there would be no more than the odd shiver running up your spine, as a sudden icy breeze wisps past your neck. Other times, it would be so cold, you’d find it difficult to stand still or keep your teeth from clattering. This evening, Vader appeared to be planted somewhere firmly between the two. No extreme frostbite, but enough to lessen what should have been welcoming, gentle rays of the sinking sun. Their mellow, golden lure disappeared behind the durasteel shades and the room was submerged in a gray, dim darkness before Yularen promptly accessed the map function and tapped in the adequate coordinates. The blue, wobbling glow almost felt reassuring when trapped in such a confined space with Vader.

“Jedha. I remain unintrigued,” said Vader, approaching slowly with heavy strides.

He came up beside Yularen, his large dark clad frame taking to the darkness like a duck to water. The blinking lights of his chest- and belt-boxes seemed almost hypnotic, alternating between bright greens and reds. Yularen glanced at the man’s face; the mask covering it never giving a scrap of emotion away. Stoic, frozen in a perpetual mockery of death. It resembled a skull, more than anything else; angled, black, stylized. Its gaping eyeholes fixated on the miniature holoimage of the planet overview in front of them.

“Actually, I was relying on you to fill me in on the importance of this particular planet. As I have been informed, we are intending to mine Jedha, but I have yet to learn what for. It appears indepth records regarding its history are… obscured. Ancient, yes, but I must admit I have never ventured close to its orbits,” Yularen began and cleared his throat, knowing that there was no better way to subdue the cynical beast that was Darth Vader; than to offer him an opening to share his own knowledge.

Many of Yularen’s fellow high ranking officers viewed Vader as a brute, a monster, and a mercenary. Little more than the hitman the Emperor dispatched when all else failed, when all semblances of negotiation fell through. Yularen knew better. He knew Vader was clever, he knew that Vader had the skill necessary to preplan and carry out complex schemes. While others may underestimate the man - especially those who had never existed in Vader’s presence - Yularen had a hunch for looking out for himself, and watching his own back. Stroking Vader’s ego would at least offer him free brownie points, much like they had done when he worked the same tactics on general Skywalker years ago.

“Neither have I, but I have… obtained the knowledge required to comprehend its importance to the Emperor’s machinations. Jedha is the root of a sect, dedicated to worshipping the Force. They revere it as their God, and while they follow the same false dogma that once belonged to the Jedi; they are insignificant. They are being closely monitored, for their bending of the law. I have been predisposed to interfere, should they alter their nature of compliance.”

“So they pose no threat?”

Vader nodded, as much as his helmet allowed him as he shifted to fold his arms defiantly across his broad chest. Yularen had always found that particular habit of Vader’s irked him, it took him back in time to the olden days. It made him ponder what may have happened to Skywalker, once the Jedi purge was begun. Once the Jedi were declared traitors of the Empire. Somewhere, his subconscious already knew the answer, and he refused to accept it. Much as he understood the consequences, Yularen had grown somewhat fond of that rowdy, unorthodox Jedi. Skywalker, who had a tendency to mimic the near exact same pose Vader was now holding. Back straight, arms folded, head held high. A small part of Yularen, would hope that he had somehow fled. That he had seen the error of his ways.

But that hope was futile, and best kept hidden.

“Perhaps in the future they might, but at the moment, no. The capital is a cesspool of misguided religious doctrines. The most prevalent cult practices non-violence, and they will succumb. If the Force wills it so, they will yield.”

“We’re not hunting Force wielders then, I take it,” Yularen hummed, keeping Vader in his peripheral at all times as he zoomed in; the aurebesh stats of what was only referred to as The Holy City greeting him.

“We are not. What we are hunting is their resources. These pitiful souls have long ago erected a temple to appease their skewed view of the Force. We are to exploit, and mine their deposit of kyber crystals - the true foundations of their reverence.”

Yularen scowled, skimming through the vitals of the planet. Breathable oxygen atmosphere, frosty climate with permanent winters. Feeling the hairs at the back of his neck rise, he ignored the tendrils of sharp, icy needles that seemed to radiate from Vader’s direction. The brunt of their assault focused on his right shoulder; wrenching themselves like unseen hooks underneath his skin. Impossible to shake off, or ignore. Like icicles, buried within his own flesh.

This was more like it, more like the near painful sensation of spending any time in Vader’s close proximity Yularen was used to. This was why he had dreaded the encounter.

“I presume this is to be our resolution, to replenish our resolve once Illum runs dry," he muttered, mostly to make a mental note to himself.

“Precisely.”

Yularen had had his suspicions, and was glad to see them confirmed. He knew he would have been debriefed on the status of Jedha and its importance to the Empire eventually, but he preferred to be one step ahead. He suspected Vader knew as much, and was humoring him by granting him this little tidbit of classified information. At least something good had come of their forced reunion.

“But, as I recall, I was not summoned here to educate you. You have a report for me, is that not so?” Vader continued after a short pause.

“Of course, my lord. My reasons for bringing Jedha up harken from the issue that we have detected unreported activity in the star systems surrounding the planet. We suspect rebel forces are attempting to establish a subdivision in the area,” Yularen was quick to explain, unwilling to keep Vader waiting and wear on his infamously thin patience.

“And what gives you these suspicions, Colonel? I suggest you provide me with reliable sources for your concerns.”

As Yularen had expected, Vader’s disinterest in the situation shone through. Vader had always come off as someone who saw himself as above pesky politics, but the Rebel Alliance had become an underground threat to be reckoned with. Much as Yularen suspected it must be more entertaining for someone of Vader’s prowess to hunt down befitting foes, he was required to scare the offshoots into submission by the Emperor’s orders. Neither of them could complain about the task offered to them.

“We have intercepted encrypted transmissions, and as such have been granted permission to dispatch a secondary garnison of stormtroopers to scout out the situation on spot.”

“If all this has already been accomplished, I fail to see how it relates to me,” Vader said, and despite the tinny, somewhat metallic tone to his voice; it came off as close to a scoff as Yularen figured Vader could manage.

Another thing Yularen had grown accustomed to while waging war aside general Skywalker - that had turned out to be a benefit when dealing with Vader - was Skywalker’s impatience, his adventurous spirit, and his unwillingness to carry diplomatic or political conversations. They’d got along well, once Yularen learnt not to try to draw Skywalker into discussing subjects he either didn’t understand, or simply thought he was too intelligent to have to deconstruct. And Skywalker was no idiot, he had been quick witted and skilled, but if there were negotiations to be had - Yularen would be relieved whenever general Kenobi was brought along to play the part on dual missions.

Now, there was no Kenobi to ease a disinterested party back into the discussion.

“Pardon me, Lord Vader, but that is what a debriefing requires. I am certain you are as aware of this as I am,” he pointed out, the scowl still dug into his brow.

“Perhaps, but it is not my duty to register these accomplishments,” Vader shot back, and he shifted to meet Yularen’s gaze head on.

“It’s not optimal, no, but we’ll have to make do. However, you are correct in that it is not a direct necessity.”

Yularen almost smirked at his own idea, and a part of him wished he had come up with this excuse before the inevitable meeting.

“Are you suggesting breaking protocol?”

Yularen quirked an eyebrow at that, and instead of the usual wave of apprehension Vader would instill him with; he could swear he detected an amused curiosity. Shrugging, the mental image of Skywalker smirking at his suggestion that they bypass customs just this once flashing before his inner vision, he cautiously let his guard down and scrolled through a couple of planets and systems he had reports on. He knew they would be of little to no interest to Vader, so he might as well skip them. He would need to write a digital predisposed copy of the overhaul at a later date anyhow. While Tarkin or Thrawn may have been thrilled to discuss tactics and strategies - Yularen figured there was no point in wasting either his or Vader's time on trivial drabble. He stopped when he located the one instance that may still peek some interest in his companion.

“Not quite. Simply bypassing irrelevant data. I believe this, however, may be of use to your likes, my lord,” he finally answered, and dared a hint of a coy smile before settling back into his more rigid, professional demeanor.

“Explain,” was all Vader said, but he had visibly shifted to a more attentive posture, albeit with his arms still folded to make a point.

“I will assume you know Waruuk for its… unsavory reputation. Run by crime syndicates, spice cartels, smuggling rings, slave traders - you name it, they have it.”

“I reckon you have a valid reason for bringing a planet built on scum up.”

Yularen felt the ire simmering from Vader but was intent on not shying away, pulling up the stats and indexes for the planet in question. He let Vader eye them for a moment, and as he had anticipated, the temperature of the room began to rapidly decline. From a cool, almost neutral environment; he now found himself in a hostile, freezing embrace. Its nature was oppressive, its artificial chill seeping into the colonel’s bones.

“Vos,” Vader spat, and Yularen almost flinched at the unfiltered disgust bleeding through what was for all intents and purposes a monotone voice.

Force wielder, possible Jedi. Male. Physical attributes in line with primary target, Jedi Master Quinlan Vos. Records incomplete, further investigation required; a tiny sidescreen note proclaimed, one Yularen had set aside from his own files. He had never intended to show it directly to Thrawn or Tarkin, unless actively questioned about it. What he had intended, was to transcribe it to Vader.

“Yes. I cannot be completely certain, but there have been recorded sightings of a supposed Jedi in these parts. I presume it would have reached your ears eventually, but I happen to know you prefer to have the news broken to you in person.”

Vader peered at him again, and Yularen found pride in the flat facial expression he managed to maintain as he was being meticulously studied. The gaze felt burdensome, but instead of the usual dismissive air to it; it came off as grateful, in a distant, wary sort of manner. That, too, reminded Yularen of general Skywalker.

Skywalker, who was barely more than a teenager when put in command. Skywalker, who was brash, and unable to adequately give or take compliments. He’d come into his own, as the war waged on. But those first few months, there had been several incidents of heated arguments and stubborn headbutting. With time, Skywalker had grown to respect Yularen’s advices, and his suggestions. In turn, Yularen had learnt to respect Skywalker compassion, and wit. They’d become a proper team.

Briefly, Yularen wondered whether Vader would hunt down Skywalker with a similar vigor to other Jedi, was he to learn the man had lived.

“You are correct. Others would be wise to follow your lead in their approach,” Vader simply stated in what was probably as close to a compliment as the man could muster, before immediately turning on his heel to head towards the single exit way. “Have the coordinates transmitted to my comlink. I shall investigate this Jedi traitor’s whereabouts in person.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Yularen replied, but Vader was already long gone, stalking down the corridor at an impressive walk speed; black cape billowing behind him and guard troopers scrambling out of the way.

Without thought, Yularen picked up his personal comlink device and brought up the adequate files Vader had requested from his private notebook. On autopilot, he dialled the five digit signal by muscle memory and pressed transmit. Then he froze, the colour draining from his face as he stared in wide eyed horror at the error he had committed. He became acutely aware of the fact that he had never sent Vader direct private messages before; and so, he didn’t know the man’s wavelength. He felt his stomach lurching, the sinking sensation in his chest. He must have been too distracted by the memories of the bright eyed young Jedi he'd once called friend, realizing too late that the number he’d typed belonged to general Skywalker. It buffered, but could not be cancelled. Instead of being dismissed, it went through with a chirping beep of approval.

But that was not the reason for the cold sweat breaking out along Yularen’s creeping hairline, his racing heartbeat, or the taste of bile rising at the back of his throat.

The encrypted transmission sent to Skywalker’s wavelength was successfully received.

The receiver was computed as Darth Vader’s private comlink unit.

*****

This one is perhaps not as scary as the others, but I think the impact still hits home. I wanted to write the dynamic between Vader and Yularen, and have been wanting to do so for a long time. Thus, I figured Yularen would be reminded of Anakin in Vader's presence, but not quite put it all together until... well, see for yourself.

Hope you enjoy, I had tons of fun with the lore and artistic liberty in this installment, if nothing else!

(Yes, the end may be a bit... I dunno, but I really wanted to have that conclusion in there, and it may be a bit forced, but I like it anyway. Sue me!)

Ao3 link below:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24049894/chapters/70242900

63 notes · View notes