#taking my divine punishment like a man i guess. god is whispering in my ear

[zapsoda]

i feel like shit :-(

[scariusaquarius]

the love of a god.

Virgin! Spartan! Bakugo Katsuki x Goddess of War! Reader

Synopsis: Bakugo Katsuki is the strongest warrior in his tribe, a tribe of warriors whom live for battle. It is June 3rd, and there must be a sacrifice for Her Divinity...

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A/n: I'm in love with Greek/Roman mythology and have been interested in writing for the au for a while now. Finally just now got bit by the creativity bug though so i finally managed to write this. have fun :)

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Genre: Erotica, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning:  Roman God AU, Human Sacrifice, Blood Play, Marking, Overstimulation, Size Kink, Noncon

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Author: ScariusAquarius.

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WARNING: THIS FIC WILL FEATURE DARK NONCON CONTENT. DO NOT READ IF NONCONSENSUAL MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. A N Y NEGATIVE COMMENTS WILL EARN A BLOCK.

“Bellona! Hear our praises! We ask for your strength and protection in exchange for one human soul! The strongest of souls within our tribe only for you, o Bellona!”

Drums began to sound on the dusk of the first sunrise of summer, the sun burning a strong orange and fiery red as it slowly began to rise. Humming within the tribe began to sound, and a loud and angry voice could be heard over the low humming.

“Hey! Get your fucking hands off of me! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The tribe leader paid no mind to the angry man whom had been bound so tightly, his arms, feet, and ankles were rubbed red and bleeding. Instead, the leader began to sing, the drums echoing through the fiery air.

“To Bellona, beautiful, terrible goddess, I offer my praise…-“

Red eyes glared at a large stake right at the cliff-face, eyes widening when two men dumped oil onto his body. The man began to struggle more, yelling out as his eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re gonna fucking regret this! I’m Katsuki Bakugo! The Son of the strongest tribe in the East!!”

“-Companion of Mars, daughter of Juno and thundering Jupiter, you delight in the clash of arms, the loud battle-cries; you dance upon the blood-soaked ground…-“

Bakugo was beginning to panic as more tribesmen began to pour more oil into the hay of the strange altar, growling as he was tied up and then gagged.

“I’ll bite your fucking fingers off if you come near me! Hey! Hey!”

Bakugo began to go feral, squirming as hard as he could within his binds as the leader continued to pray. As the leader brandished a large sword, wiping it with oil before setting it aflame, the leader gave one last look at Bakugo.

“I honor your work, O goddess; I honor your might. I give only the best to you, O Bellona.”

Time seemed to slow for Bakugo as he watched the flaming sword light the hay beneath him ablaze, and then a searing pain eating at his feet. A loud scream left Bakugo’s lips as the fire burned his skin and clothes, the smell and pain making his vision go white. As he continued to writhe and scream in pain, Bakugo could hear the chants and cheers from the people whom had sacrificed him.

Why him? Why did it have to be him? He would kill these bastards! All of them! Bakugo let out one last cry before suddenly, everything turned black. There was a sensation of floating, and then gently falling until he felt as though he had landed in a pile of pillows. Bakugo opened up his eyes, and found that he was lying in an extremely large and circular canopy bed. Torches were on top of the posts, lit with a dark green

White and red sheer curtains gently flowed down around the bed as if there was wind, but there was no breeze that Bakugo could feel. The environment around him could only be described as space. Galaxies and stars were all around him, comets and flaming chariots with large warriors chasing them, and Bakugo was so in awe that he didn’t even realize he was completely naked until he moved to sit up.

Snatching the sheets into his lap, Bakugo’s nerves were shot. Where the fuck was he? Why was he naked? The sheets within his lap were so soft, they felt like clouds…Bakugo had to guess it was pure silk…or something else. There was power that resonated all around him; echoing through the very fibers of his soul.

“I’ve waited so long for you, Bakugo Katsuki.”

His whole body froze as he felt a hand within his lap, cool breath on his ear, and Bakugo slowly looked to the left. What lied beside him could only be described as a goddess, and Bakugo knew which one.

Bellona, the great goddess of war that his tribe worshiped.

She was beautiful. (E/c) eyes that shined with such a confident and terrifying glint, beautiful (s/c) skin that felt so soft upon his chest. Her body was lovely, scar-ridden and glowing with her divine power. Her hair was adorned with droplets of fiery, golden light in the shape of a crown.

A fitting crown for a powerful queen whom owned the battlefield.

She was much taller than normal humans, a side-effect of her divineness. Most gods usually towered over humans. Divine Giants of the Sky, at least that’s what Bakugo remembered. Bellona was also stark naked, on display for his eyes, her pretty breasts already dimpled with gooseflesh and her nipples completely hard.

Bakugo gasped when her large hand went to his hair, bunching it up and roughly tugging.

“It’s disrespectful not to greet your hosts, little Spartan.”

“Fuck you.”

The goddess chuckled, licking her lips as she stared down at his naked chest.

“I’m hoping on it. After all, I own you completely now.”

Bakugo wanted to fight back, but her grip was so strong, he could feel his scalp stinging. How could he bear to stand a chance against a God? He was human. He couldn’t compare to her divine power. Pulling him closer, her tongue slipped out and licked along his neck. Bakugo’s face went red, and he grabbed a tight hold of her tongue.

“Get off of me, you creep!”

“Mm, grab on tighter! It only makes me want to beat the pleasure into you even more!”

Bakugo let out a loud growl, shunting his knee into her abdomen, but the goddess did not react. Instead, she giggled before biting straight through her tongue. Bakugo’s eyes widened in shock, dropping the dismembered tongue onto the bed as the muscle continue to twitch before turning to ash. Bellona giggled before spitting it out all over his chest.

Bakugo made a noise of disgust, and Bellona held him close to her as her newly-regenerated tongue slithered out and licked her hot saliva over his nipples, licking up her own blood.

“Those stupid worms…they kept sacrificing all the strongest warriors without knowing that I only ever wanted you.”

Bakugo’s heart twitched weirdly, and he let out a small whimper as her lips encased his nipple and sucked. His cock was beginning to grow hard, and Bakugo whimpered out.

“W-What? What are you talking about?”

“Hush. Let me worship you now, Katsuki.”

Her breath was strangely cold against his skin despite everything else about her being overwhelmingly warm. Bellona’s hands were running all along his body, caressing his muscles and cupping the low of his back as she brought him up to her lap. Bakugo made an embarrassed noise when the sheet fell, revealing his hard cock.

“Own your power, Katsuki. I gave it to you for a reason.”

“D-Dammit, Bellona, wait-“

Bellona pulled back, making a face at him and gripping his face tightly.

“No, you call me (Y/n) when I am not in my armor. You are now mine, and therefore you should know my true name.”

-READER POV-

Katsuki’s legs were on either side of your thigh, his cock pressed up against your stomach, and his hands were gripping your wrist tightly. His red eyes were glaring at you, a blush evident on his cheeks, and he let out a small whine when you squeezed tighter.

“Maybe I should punish you instead…I wanted to give you such a warm welcome into your new home…but then again, you are a Spartan…”

Punish him? Wait, what did that mean? Could he be killed twice? Bakugo was getting ready to fight back when your hands went to his hips and began to press down, forcing his hips back and forth against you. Bakugo gasped loudly, his cock rubbing up and down on your body, and Bakugo clenched his teeth.

You leaned forward, kissing his neck harshly to leave dark marks, and you whispered into his ear as you moved his hands to your breasts; your hands retuning to his hips after.

“I’ll tame you just like I did with the rest of your pretty army. Then, you shall help me rule…my King.”

Bakugo was overwhelmed quickly, your soft skin in his palms feeling so nice…the sensations tingling within his cock and balls…Bakugo couldn’t help but gently squeeze your nipples. You hummed, feeling his resolve quickly crumble, and you giggled.

“Come here. Let yourself rest before battle…”

You lied back, head against your large pillows, and Bakugo slipped from your thigh, his cock leaking precum and throbbing. Bakugo grabbed the base of his cock harshly, taking large gulps of air as he tried to calm down, but you were upon him again. Pushing him back, Bakugo’s eyes widened when your lips came close to his cock.

“Wait, don’t do that!”

Bakugo gasped harshly when your large mouth engulfed his cock, your tongue swirling around the throbbing shaft. He hated to admit it, but he had never done anything like this before; never experienced or even knew about what all sex actually was. Was he really about to lose his virginity to a goddess? Bakugo’s face was red, small pants and moans spilling from his lips. Whatever it was that you were doing, it felt so good that Bakugo couldn’t stay quiet.

Bakugo’s hands went to your head, pushing against you to try to make you take his cock from your mouth, but you only went down farther. You were practically swallowing his cock, making obscene noises, and slurping loudly. You were enjoying yourself clearly…and so was Bakugo. His body was humming, feeling so good that Bakugo couldn’t resist.

He didn’t want to do this. Bakugo didn’t want to be enforced to an afterlife filled with this. He was meant for more…meant for much bigger and better things. Surely, you were wrong, weren’t you? Surely, he still had a chance?

You sucked harshly on his cock, and Bakugo let out a shout, hips bucking and thrusting his cock. Bakugo came suddenly, hot cum spurting into your mouth and down your throat, and your eyes glinted in delight.

“Doesn’t it feel so good? Don’t you want more? Come please your goddess.”

Bakugo shook his head, however.

“No.”

“No?”

You giggled before snapping your fingers. Bakugo’s body was restrained in a second, satin ropes tying him in spread-eagle position. His eyes widened, a gag in his mouth as well, and you hovered your wet pussy over his cock. Would his cock even please you with the size difference? Bakugo couldn’t even ponder it as you sat down right onto his cock, his cock disappearing into your hot and wet heat, and he let out a cry of surprise.

“I don’t think you have a place to refuse me, Katsuki Bakugo. I created you. I own you! I bargained you for 21 years…and now you are back in my total possession! Whether you want to or not, I will make you my king. You will rule beside your queen as her general, and you will help conquer all of existence by my side.”

You rode his cock with a brutal and cruel pace, hands pressing down harshly on his body to keep him pinned as you fucked him, and Bakugo was fighting against his restraints. He didn’t want to hurt anybody…he didn’t want to be a king. He didn’t want any of this. Why did the universe choose this fate for him?

Bakugo moaned pitifully into his gag, tears of confused pleasure within his eyes, and you moaned in ecstasy. Your appearance began to morph and change, your pussy beginning to feel much more confined the more you down-sized until finally, you were human-sized. Your strength and might didn’t change, however, as you continued to bounce and fuck his cock.

His toes curled tightly as his cock throbbed a second time, and you moaned again.

“I’ll fuck the obedience into you…I’ll make you want to fuck me so badly every night that you’ll never disobey me. You want that, don’t you, though? You little disgusting creation. I can feel the way your cock wants to fill my womb with your seed. Your existence is meaningless without me.”

Bakugo’s eyes squeezed shut as he came a second time, and you grinned maniacally at him. Bloodlust was deep within your eyes, and Bakugo no longer felt as though he would make it out of this alive.

“Are you going to be good? Are you going to cum again for me, my king? I want you to fuck me so badly…I can’t wait until you gain your divinity so that we can really fuck.”

Gain divinity? Bakugo’s eyes opened slightly. If he gained divinity, would he be like you? If that’s the case…maybe he really did have a way out. Bakugo growled deeply to himself. He would go along with the show just for a bit…and then at the right moment, Bakugo would fight back.

Bakugo moaned into his gag as your walls clenched around him, and you began to play with your clit as his cock disappeared in and out of your wetness.

“Fuck, I’m so horny for you! It’s so hot watching your resolve crumble…I really am invincible in all aspects of the very word!”

You let out a wail of pleasure, cumming all over his cock, and Bakugo let out a whimper as he came one last tight. Feeling a strange sense of disgust at the feeling of his cock being covered in cum, Bakugo shook his head, trying to buck you off of him.

“Oh no, we aren’t even nearly close to done. I’m going to push you past your limits and then completely break you.”

[END]

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[tres-spades-hotel]

The Adventures of Avaline

Chapter 1 – A Star Crossed Myth

I remember the last moments of my life. I was walking the streets of Tokyo, a city that I had recently called home. For 2 years, the hustle and bustle of life in the city was no different to my home in England. Anywhere and everywhere was something new and something big. All the time. You could never really get a break in a world expecting you to be obedient and loud.

Introverted as I was, I never found a place I could call home. A real home. I was too shy, too quiet, too little, too… me. My name was Olivia, it means an olive tree oddly enough. A caring, mature woman who didn’t take risks because she didn’t want to get hurt. I had many chances to do something meaningful with my life, to help the world be a better place, to help people, to help humans, and I blew it. Literally.

That day, I was walking without knowing that my life would end. Two cars were out of control. Drunk drivers I guess… or maybe it was all preordained. Two red cars were speeding from opposite directions. One of them was in the wrong lane, that’s how they both crashed.

She was a small girl though. Couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. I have never done anything in my life that meant I would be remembered but I suppose in my last few minutes, I really did do something good.

Crossing the street, she followed her mother slowly who was too engrossed in her phone conversation and the baby sibling in the buggy. That girl was in danger and I acted. I don’t know what came over me but the next thing I knew, I had dropped my bag and ran for her. I screamed something and the girl turned around at the maniac scrambling towards her. I twisted my ankle because of my heels but I was able to push her backwards just in time.

Her eyes held fear and confusion. But she was also curious. I may never see those eyes again. The cars crashed, destroying the bonnets and my skull was smashed to smithereens.

What could I do but think that she will live on, remembering what it is that I had died for. Her survival in a cut-throat world where cars are the animals and money is the meat that you fight for. It will be a very long time before I see that society again.

*

…

……..

…………………

What?

Where am I?

A blinding light cuts through the darkness like a knife slicing through butter. My eyelids flutter open. A beautiful golden palace stands before me with pillars and statues and a large staircase up to the entrance. But why does it look so familiar?

A thin river slithers across the ground in front of the building. Gorgeous flowers and grass and insects live freely in the warm sun. It’s not too hot and it’s not too cold, it is just the right temperature to stand and soak in the sunlight. I would love to live here if I could.

Wait.

Wait, hold on a second!

Isn’t that…?

This palace couldn’t be the one from Star Crossed Myth… could it? It looks just like the CG whenever the MC or the gods came to the….

Am I in the Heavens?

But that’s impossible! For one, I died. I remember that clearly. And two, SCM is just a visual novel. A game to read and make choices and fall in love with the characters. It’s a fantasy story which doesn’t exist.

Does it?

I try to take a step forward, but my foot accidently pulls the hem of a material. Looking down, I see a golden cream dress with a lace bodice and three-quarter sleeves. My hands wear golden accessories. My fingers feel my ears which are adorned with large earrings and they make their way to my silky soft black hair tied back in a braided crown. Even my skin feels flawlessly smooth.

My  body seems to have changed too. I’ve become thinner and more curvy, although my chest is still as large as ever. But my back and shoulders aren’t aching because of the weight. My bum’s a little bit rounder and my legs are close to being twigs. That’s probably why I feel taller. On my feet are high heels but I stand perfectly on the dirt.

What the heck is going on? Who am I? Am I still me? Was I… reborn?

Well, if I remember correctly, the MC was reborn too but that was only because Huedhaut was the one who sacrificed the stars in his eyes to recycle her soul. And she was a goddess to begin with. But there’s no way that happened to me. I don’t know any gods. I’m not a goddess.

Looking at the palace, it no longer seems beautiful but a mysterious building with answers to questions I have yet to discover. I take a deep breath and head towards the Palace of the Heavens.

*

Inside, the hallways are exactly as they are in SCM. Everything is connected with doors and corners. The windows are really amazing, just about bringing together the ceiling and the floor. The hallways are also very, very, very wide. So many people… oh I mean gods…. in one hallway at once.

As I walk through the Palace, I start to hear murmurs and whispers of the gods who pass me.

‘Who is that?’

‘I don’t know but she is beautiful.’

Some goddess’ pass by and I hear more whispers.

‘I thought it was Lord Leon but it’s a goddess.’

‘She does seem very powerful, who is she?’ Shamelessly gossiping about a woman they’ve never seen before is rude, no? And did they say Lord Leon? And did they just call me powerful? There’s no way that’s true though. I still don’t know what I look like yet, so I have no idea if I look even remotely ‘beautiful’.

Ignoring them, I notice that many of them wear uniforms, most of which are Wishes and Punishments but there are some that I do not recognise. Some which have never been mentioned in the stories of Star Crossed Myth.

I wonder how many of the twelve zodiac gods are here in the palace at the moment. Has The Dark King waged his war on the Heavens? Did Leon become King? Has the MC been reborn? Is Clotho, the Goddess of Fate, even alive right now? So many questions and the only being in this world who I can ask is the King of the Heavens. I really hope he exists here.

Upon turning a corner, however, I stop when I hear a voice.

‘Lord Leon, are you going somewhere? May I accompany you?’

‘Sorry, I’d like to be alone.’

I slowly peek around the corner and see the one and only Wild Lion of the Heavens strolling through a jungle of babbling gods. My breath hitches in my throat as I contain my cough. Leon, the God of Leo, stops for no one at all, only passing by and rejecting the advances of the goddess’ around him. That’s right, in Leon’s Musings on Love, he showed the MC his past. A very lonely past. Gods and goddess’ spoke freely about Leon as if he were an object, like he was invisible to them. But because he doesn’t say anything, they continue to do so and fill the hallways with gossip and rumour. The MC felt bad for him and I do too. He’s loved and hated by all, feared and respected by all, but who knows his heart? Who knows his mind? Who knows his fears? His thoughts?

As he comes around the corner, I hide behind a god in front of me. Somehow, Leon passes by without taking notice of me. Maybe he’s too immersed in his thoughts to see me.

But…

Even though his back and shoulders seem so strong, they also look so alone to me. I can’t help myself. I’m going to follow him. I know where he’s going anyway.

*

The church. The door is left slightly ajar, so I press my ear against it.

‘… A divine minister, huh? Me… as powerful as the king…?’ His whispers are carried to me by a silent messenger of the air. To have so much responsibility and expectations put on him, Leon had no one to confine in.

I try to sneak in undetected, but it doesn’t work. The door sends a creek into the hollow church which echoes far more dramatically than it should. Sitting on a bench at the front, the auburn hair whips around at the sudden sound. I tumble out and awkwardly stand as Leon rises, the confusion evident on his face. He seems pretty young, so he looks a lot cuter and more adorable. I smile naturally at the thought but that makes Leon glare at me.

‘What are you doing here?’ His words sting as they bounce towards me and I flinch. His voice is deep and strong and straight to the point. No beating around the bush.

Oh.

Maybe he thinks I follo- wait I did follow him. What am I saying? I did follow him but not for what he is thinking. Maybe he thinks I am going to come onto him or something. I walk a little closer so that we can see each other clearer. His uniform is just like his sprite in the title and his facial features are perfect. But when I look into his eyes, I’m awe-struck. The stars in his eyes are beautiful. They’re in the shape of the Leo star sign. The stars shine bright in his copper eyes and now it’s hard to look away. I’ve always found it difficult to keep eye contact with anyone but with him, it feels so natural.

His eyes suddenly widen. He looks surprised and more confused somehow. I wonder what he is thinking. What should I say though? He wasn’t expecting anyone, and this never happened in the story so what do I do?! Should I introduce myself? Tell him I was mistaken and that I’ll leave?

The longer the silence surrounds us, the more nervous I feel. He’s not saying anything, and I never answered his question. What am I doing here? 

Actually. 

I have an idea.

My heels click-clack quickly on the marbled floor of the church. Before I know it, I’ve crossed the distance between us. My arms encircle his torso and I hug him for dear life. His body tenses under my touch and I can tell his arms are hovering in the air. Leon’s body feels muscular underneath the clothes he wears, and his warmth encapsulates me completely. My head rests perfectly over his chest. The sound of his heartbeat thunders in my ears as I take in the sweet scent of flowers radiating from him. I hug him a little bit tighter as I try to take all the warmth that I can. I’ve never been so intimate with a man, let alone a god, before so this affection that I give Leon is surprising to me too.

I loosen my death grip ever so slightly and look up at him. He looks down with his eyes narrowed.

‘You know, it’s said that if you hug someone for 30 seconds, they begin to feel better.’ Leon’s confusion grows but I think he knows what I mean.

‘That’s ridiculous, how can a simple hug make someone feel better?’ His words seem harsh, but I feel his arms embrace me. I smile into his chest, happy to know that he’s not completely heartless.

‘I don’t really know how to explain it in a way that you will understand but you seemed… sad, for lack of a better word, so I wanted to help.’ I hug him again tighter than before. His body relaxes a bit after my semi-explanation.

I hear him mumble something, but I don’t catch it in time.

Thirty seconds seems far too short. I should have said thirty minutes! Reluctantly, I let go of Leon fully and put a few feet of distance between us. The cool air in the church fill in the gaps and I feel cold without him.

‘If you ever feel lonely or need a hug to feel better, then I am here for you. You don’t have to bear everything on your own, Leon.’ I accidently say his name more casually than I should in this world so I give a quick smile and a wave and dash out as quickly as I can.

I hope he believes me.

*

I need to see the King right away. Now that I know what part of the SCM timeline I am in, I now know that Zyglavis must also be here in the Palace. Although, if I come across him I might clam up. What should I say? I don’t know who I am, what I am, why I am here. If I’m a goddess, what am I the goddess of? What’s my special ability? How do I-

‘Ah!’ I bump into a god who is almost double my height and I immediately recognise who he is. Zyglavis stands tall, very tall in fact, in front of me and the nerves take over.

‘Please watch where you are going, the hallways can be very busy at this time.’ His stern attitude makes me stand up a little straighter. I almost salute to him military style.

‘Um, I’m sorry. I am looking for the throne room.’ He raises his eyebrows.

‘Oh, and for what purpose?’ Wait, what should I say now?

‘I, uh, I have… an urgent matter to speak with the King.’ I say but he doesn’t seem convinced.

‘What kind of urgent matter?’

‘I-It’s for the King’s ears only…’ I reply and he narrows his eyes at me. He is truly terrifying when being questioned.

‘Very well, I will take you to His Highness. Follow me.’ Zyglavis turns quickly and I scramble to obey. Even rushing behind him, I feel his powerful aura.

Hard to believe that right now, he’s the Vice Minister of Punishments. And he’s right, everybody seems pretty busy. I wonder if it’s a holiday or something on Earth, maybe that’s why they’re rushing around.

‘Um…’ I start to say but then it hits me that I don’t have a name to give. I can’t give my human name in case I already have one.

‘What?’

‘Oh, um, what is your name?’ I hurry to walk beside him, and I hear him sigh.

‘My name is Zyglavis, the God of Libra and the Vice Minister of the Department of Punishments.’

‘That… sounds like a big responsibility.’

‘It is, but I am glad to have it if it means protecting the humans on Earth.’

‘You must really love the humans. I’m sure they’re very lucky to have you as their protector.’ I compliment him but I do mean it. Once he’s promoted, he’ll do a lot more good things.

He doesn’t say anything, so I look up, but he is already looking at me. I notice the stars in his eyes look just like the Libra star sign. They look equally as beautiful as Leon’s.

‘Are you new here?’ He asks.

‘Well, yes. I need to speak to the King… about which Department I’ll be joining…’ I say hesitantly.

‘Then why didn’t you say that before?’

‘Well, I’m still struggling to believe that I’m here, you know?’

‘I understand. The Palace can be a busy place, so I suggest you take care not to become entangled in gossip. Make sure to work hard at your best.’

‘I will… Lord Zyglavis.’ I smile up and he continues walking.

Eventually, we reach a hallway that’s different to the others in the Palace. There are large pillars and images are etched into the surfaces.

‘What are these images? Are they of the past?’ I ask, pointing to one of a man holding up the sun.

‘In a way, yes. Now come, the King must be waiting for you.’

‘Ah, okay!’ I hurry to follow but make a mental note to come back and study the pictures some more.

The double doors open to the throne room. A long red carpet leads all the way to the throne where the King of the Heavens sits. I stop myself from smiling out of nervousness.

‘Your Highness, this young goddess is here to work under your guidance.’ Zyglavis says, bowing. I quickly follow his lead and hear a voice reverberate in the quiet room.

‘Thank you Zyglavis for bringing her to me. You may leave.’

‘I understand.’ He bows again, looks at me and leaves. I smile again at him before turning to the King. He is as beautiful in person as he is in the stories. His overwhelming power fills the throne room even though he is only sitting in his throne lazily.

‘Um, your Highness…’ I begin but he holds up his hand to stop me.

‘Do not worry, I know of your situation, Olivia.’ OMG.

‘Seriously?! You know that I-‘

‘Come with me, we must speak privately.’ The King snaps his fingers, and a flash of light blinds me. The next thing I know, I’m in the King’s private chambers.

‘Oh wow!’ A large bed looks as if its suspended in animation. Stars cover my entire vision as if I’m in space. There is no floor, but I am definitely standing on something.

‘Sit down, please.’

‘Oh, okay.’ I sit down beside the King, positioning myself so that I am facing him. His power is immense. I feel even more anxious just being beside him. The King smiles at me.

‘There is no need to be nervous. I know that you have been through a lot. Can you tell me how you died?’

‘Well, it will be hard to explain since I believe the Earth here is not caught up in certain technology yet…’

‘That is fine, tell me how you remember it.’

I recount my last memories and tell the King how I died, while attempting to describe the car accident and leaving out any modern concepts.

‘The cars must have crushed my skull upon impact and killed me. I hope that the girl is safe though. That I didn’t die for nothing.’

‘She has told me that the girl lived. You have nothing to fear.’

‘She?’ I ask.

‘I assume you know much about our world.’

‘That’s one way to put it I guess. I know that there are Departments here and that you are the King of the Heavens who is the most powerful and omnipresent being in the universe and-‘ His chuckle stops me from continuing.

‘It is true that I am the most powerful god to the knowledge of those living here in the Heavens. However,’ he looks away.

‘There is someone far more magnificent than me.’

‘Seriously? You mean that there is actually somebody out there who is even more powerful than you?’

‘Yes, but she will reveal herself to you when the time is right.’

‘What!? Why all the build-up if you weren’t going to tell me?’ I huff. He laughs at my childishness.

‘You will understand in time. She brought you here for a special reason. But for now, reacquaint yourself with the act of living. You have been reborn as a goddess after all.’

‘Really? How is that possible though?’

‘To put it simply, you have been reborn into a different dimension. This world that you see before does not exist in your world.’ Wow, so I’m not even in the same dimension as the Earth that I know.

‘Do you know what my name is? What powers I have?’ I ask eagerly.

‘Your name is Avaline, the Goddess of Destiny.’

‘Avaline. Of destiny?’ I repeat back.

‘You have the ability to know the destiny of any god or human. And the ability allows you to change it to whatever you wish.’

‘That sounds… like a big responsibility though.’

‘She assures me that you are worthy of such a power. But there is another.’

‘I have two abilities?!’ He nods.

‘Avaline, you have the ability to copy the abilities of others.’

‘… Um, what?’

‘I will give an example: Zyglavis has the ability to manipulate shadows, detach his own shadow and see through his shadow. Simply seeing the ability and knowing how it works will allow you to copy it. However, the ability will not be the exact identical as it is when Zyglavis uses it.’ I nod then shake my head.

‘I’m lost.’

‘You have unlimited use of your ability to use others, but the ability will change to suit you.’

‘That’s insane. Are you sure I really have this power?’ He chuckles at me and nods, but then he frowns.

‘There is something else. This ability of use comes at a cost.’

‘Of course it does.’ I sigh.

‘Do you know of the reflecting pools?’

‘Yes, they’re fountains filled with pure water which show reflections of Earth. Like a mirror.’

‘Exactly so. The pure water in the reflecting pools cannot be consumed because of their purity. However, you will need to.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘The more abilities you acquire, the more the power inside of you becomes imbalanced. Drinking the water of the reflecting pools will correct the balance.’

‘An unlimited quantity of power only to become disastrous to the one who uses them.’ I conclude.

‘Do not be mistaken. You can use the abilities whenever you wish. Gods do not get sick like humans but if you fail to drink the water daily then your life will be in danger.’

‘That’s not at all daunting.’

‘It is a power that has been chosen for you, Avaline.’

‘Avaline, huh. For some reason, it feels weird hearing you say this name.’

‘You will get used it in time. Now for your position here at the Palace.’ I sit up straighter.

‘You will work in the Department of Souls.’ I slump down in confusion.

‘Souls?’

‘Your Department Minister is Evelyn, and she will show you what to do. For now, a room has been created for you, go and rest.’

‘Okay, thank you, Your Highness.’ I stand up and bow in gratitude. I turn to leave and turn around again to him.

‘I have a question. How much of the future do you know?’

He only gives me a knowing smile.

‘I know that you will do great things for us here in the Heavens. Remember: you have been given tremendous powers, use them wisely.’ He leaves me with a smile. Suddenly, a blinding light transports me back to the throne room.

[peachyteabuck]

saints can’t help me now

summary:  I will tell you the mystery of the woman and of the beast that carries her, whose name has not been written in the book of life from the foundation of the world. Kings give their power and authority to the beast, and those who are with him are the called and chosen and faithful. 

pairing: forest god!thor x reader

words: 4,642

trigger warnings: dub con, attempted sexual assault, vague biblical allusions that seem quite out of place in such a pagan context

notes/other: this was done for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s in the dark challenge + my prompt was “shh, it’s okay. it’ll only hurt a little.” this is also a part of @spacelabrathor‘s forest god anthology bc te amo forest god thor.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are drops of truth in every legend, however flimsy or warped. A lie doesn’t come from nowhere, lore isn’t rolled off tongues without pretext. Little children don’t lie in their sleep, in the middle of the night; they don’t lie without purpose (or the illusion of one). Behind every threat is certainty, behind every falseness a reality.

You’re smart enough to understand this, to trace the oaks back to their roots. When a villager begged for refuge from a storm and whispered to you to heed warning about some deity that had been cast away from his throne, you listened – and never traveled too deep into the deep woods. Gods are never meant to roam such an unholy place as this, which its ravenous terrain and its isolating nature and its punishing climate. Gods prefer the busy cities, the lovelier farms, perhaps even their own homes on a planet you don’t know of. An almighty being? In a space such as this? You merely laugh at the thought. Such an image is not one that inspires hope or wisdom or rebirth, rather one of a spirit thrown from its rightful place, rightful palace. Such a spirit would be vengeful, vindictive, deceitful, despiteful, unprincipled, unforgiving.

When a merchant took your money and told you of a divine man who hunted without care, you listened – and kept your cat in whenever the sun was not at her highest. Woodland creatures you rehabilitated and travelers looking for rest were sequestered within your walls until you felt it was safe. If you had to leave your home (as you often did) you refused to travel alone, preferring to starve than die at the hands of some ruthless beast. The light of day, the heat from a fire, the illumination from a torch – you trusted it all to keep you from a harm you felt was preventable.

When a fortune teller read your cards and spoke of a demiurge who threatened the peace of your home, you listened – and used every moment of every step as a way to prevent conflict. You gave what you could of whichever soul asked for it, you never disturbed the ground, you kept to yourself. Your voice remained undersized, your movements diminutive. A camp four miles away called you wee, the fortune teller called you cautious, you called it survival.

But none of that, nothing you had done or prepared or pushed to the forefront of your mind seemed to matter as you were being chased through the thickest set of trees you’d ever seen by a pack of wolves (werewolves, no less) who had spotted a way to broaden their gene pool and stalked you til dusk. Each press of your bare feet to the hardened ground forced bits of bark and bone into the callous flesh; normally you’d wail at such anguish, but the blood pumping in your ears drowns out any of your nerve’s attempts at reaching your bran. While you wince at each point of contact, the pain never seems to come.

From behind you their howls of laughter hit the trees and then your eardrums, a reminder that for them this is a game. Their idea of said game going poorly is if they do not catch you, if they cannot drag you back to their settlement as a token of their hard work.

It seems as quickly as your hunt for food had gone sour you’re plucked from the freezing ground and tossed into a barren field, slammed into the ground as your shoulders continue to rise and while your heart continues to beat at a rabbit’s pace, your eyes moving faster than the organ as they take in the scene in front of them.

Your thoughts are quick, like the blood in your veins.

Rolling hills. Crops. Yellow Crops. Deep yellow crops. Corn? Dead crops. Still cold. No snow. Yes ice. Stones, under you. Small stones. Broken stones. Bad dirt. Bad crops. Bad yield. No settlements. Sky dark. Feet hurt. Still cold. Feet really hurt.

The distinct sound of a boot digging into the ground makes you turn around, knife in your corset drawn with a shaking, aching hand.

In front of you, a man. A man in shoes meant for winter. A man dressed in dark clothes. A man with a large chest that rises slowly, slowling, slower. A man with golden skin, as deep as the flora around you. long, dirty beard. A man with long, dirty hair. A man with a set of horns that curl like a ram but peak like the blade in your palm. A man who towers over you. A man who looks less like a man as your eyes focus, but his form doesn’t become clearer.

The man is the first to speak, his lips thick and turned up into a sinister looking smile.

“What’s a little thing like you strolling alone in these woods?” His voice flows like honey with each step of gravel as he circles you. You’ve seen vultures spot prey with less purpose as his gruff laughs bring thick clouds of condensation, which fill the air between you and him. “Big, mean wolves prowl these very woods, looking for cute little things like you to prey on.”

You try to swallow what little spit remains in your dry mouth, but it seems the only thing in your throat is a thick knot of fear. Stuck in place from terror alone, each cell that makes up your body is more frozen than the ice hanging from the bare branches above you.

“I- “you’re momentarily distracted by a twig snapping in the distance. “I’m not that small!” The man (if he even is a man) laughs, loud enough to make you flinch (of course that’s all I can do, you curse yourself. Can’t run away, but can flinch at some fucking laughter.) “In these forests you are. You’re a pretty little toy for all the packs that try to stake their claim here. It’s useless, they’ll never succeed, but that sure doesn’t stop them from trying.”

Your heart beats faster than you’ve ever felt before, each painful expansion of your ribcage syncing with the blood pounding in your ears. “Wh-what happened to them?” He cocks an eyebrow. “What happened to who?”

You speak again, a little louder. “What happened to the packs, why haven’t they laid claim to this territory?”

His broad chest shakes as he chuckles at your insolence. “Because I already have.”

Your heart quickens again. “But you’re only one man,” another twig snap, another sound ignored as a different kind of fear rises in your abdomen. “How can you overpower those powerful packs, they’ve formed a coalition – the village hasn’t stopped talking about it – there’s at least a hundred of them altogether, I-”

An answer comes after a beat of heavy silence, though the tension of waiting seems better than the truth that comes all too quickly. “Because yappy puppies can’t usurp a god,” he hisses.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck.

Thor, the god you’ve been petrified of since you were a child, has been the guard of this forest and everything in it for a millennium. In like fashion to other sprawling hills and tall trees, he beckons in the seasons and calms the bears into hibernation and tells the snow when to melt. Thor is the life of the forest, attuned to the air every living breathes day in and day out. Yet he’s incomparable to his benevolent siblings, hungrier and more desperate and willing to throw away his duties to sink his jowls into anything unpardonable. This god is jaded, exhausted of the mind-numbing monotonous work of running the home of so many creatures; like knife dropped in the dirt, he threatens even the ones who step careful as marksmen watch their targets.

For a few moments you think your mouth will release a quip, a sarcastic response that would get you killed, or worse. Somehow your lips stay still, warming as each pant releases hot, white puffs into the cold night air.

There’s fear in your eyes and it permeates the air around you. The god’s nostrils flare as the pheromones hit his nose.  In a far corner of your brain you wonder what it smells like – such a strong emotion. Is it thick and sweet? Does it coat his tongue the same of when you bake fresh bread? Or is it deep and revolting – the smell of one’s soul decomposing before the corresponding body’s gone cold.

He steps closer.

You wince. “Please- “

He laughs like he’s watched a child fall to the ground in a field. “What? Are you scared?”

The word leaves his lips much slower than the others, like thick syrup in his mouth. Guess your fear is a much sweeter scent than expected.

“Should I not be?” The defiance in your voice comes like the wolf that bursts through the thinning trees behind you.

With the air knocked out of your lungs and each muscle stunned into inertness, there’s not much you can do but watch the god as you’re dragged away while two wolves trail behind you.

The grey sunlight fades as the flora becomes thicker, and for a hundred or so yards you feel as if your life is crumbling around you. But soon with the shadows from the trees comes the realization of familiarity.

Their faces – their snouts, eyes, ears, fur – they’re one you’d seen before. They’re the same ones from the small fairy circle down the way from your cabin, where you’d been trying to find something to eat besides dry mint leaves and crunchy bread.

These aren’t the wolves from the coalition near the village, these aren’t those nasty wolves who steal and plunder and take without end, these aren’t the wolves who chased you into the arms of the god who previously stood before you.

This is something worse…so much worse.

You’ve housed some of them, their yellow eyes and pink snouts have been fixtures of your spare room – you’ve stitched their paws and rubbed salve into their poison ivy rashes and brushed matts from their thick fur.

As one of them jumps on top of you – one you recognize from the scar you’d helped heal after a hawk had attempted to take out his eye – you can feel another pry your arms flat above you and two others hold your legs apart.

His long, wet tongue traces from your shoulder to your temple, his snout breathing hot air onto your feverish skin.

“I’ve been waiting to do this,” his voice is muffled, as if you’re talking to a person resting at the bottom of the sea. “Oh, I’ve been waiting to do this since I saw you and your brow furrowed with worry at that wound the wicked bird left upon me.”

He nudges under your jaw, grazing his sharp teeth across the fragile skin above your jugular as he pants.

If your hands were free, if your lips could move, you’d push him away and call him some mutt in heat, spit in his face and kick him away and run until you could not see the wretched creatures and they could not see you and the distance would make you forget everything that had and would happen and you never would have to think of their paws clawing at your body again and…

And…

“Stay the fuck away from her,” the god from before snarls from behind his teeth. The wolves, now thrown more than a hundred yards away from you, are nearly frozen in fear and realization that their plan has taken a toll for the worst. Your hands dig into the earth in an attempt to gain footing, but you can barely hold yourself up on your elbow as your vision spins. “If I find you again I will rip your heart from your thoracic cavity and leave you all to be found by the rest of your pitiful kind, do you understand?”

The wolves do not nod, but they also do not stay. Within an instant, you find yourself blessedly alone and then cursedly close to the very thing you fear the most.

“Why don’t I take you back home?” Thor whispers, watchful as you finally pick yourself up from the mud and moss. Bits of twigs and leaves and crushed bugs litter the light fabric, but you make no effort to remove it from your person – none of that matters when he locks eyes with you, blown pupils glittering with something you can’t place.

Still, with chest heaving and hands shaking, you lead him back to your homestead.

It’s not a long trek through the woods, yet Thor’s breath is audible like a deer sprinting from a pack of canids. You question nothing, though, absolutely nothing as you lead him on the winding, invisible path that leads you less than a stone’s throw away from the entrance.

You don’t say anything as you pull away, not a promise nor gratitude nor acknowledgement of his actions. The silence from you is met with Thor tugging your back to his front and wrapping your arms around you.

“I think you should thank me,” he coos. In the window of your dwelling is your cat, eyes wide in fear as she paces. She knows something is wrong, something bad is happening. But she doesn’t know how to fix it. “For protecting you.”

Some parts of you – maybe a few ribs, the bottom of your spine, your dry mouth – know what he wants. Behind your eyes you see images of you, him, your large bed. Of your small, begotten frame under his large form as he takes what he desires.

Some part of your brain, the logical side, knows you should feel fearful at this massive beast laying you down onto your worn, soft sheets. The other part, though, feels a particular heat flood your center and between your legs.

“And what is it that comprises such appreciation?” you ask, still facing your home as the god lingers behind you. Your breath – already shaky and shallow – hitches as one of his clawed fingers pushes aside your thick hair to expose the smooth skin of your neck. He places such small, light kisses there that for a moment you believe it was simply whispers of wind from the night, but once sharpened teeth graze your heartbeat you’re aware of the affections being his.

“Oh, little pet,” at his words your eyes shut on their own accord, and your bottom lip finds itself between your top and bottom teeth in the same fashion. “We both know what I want.”

You gulp, trying to find verbal footing as he begins to kiss down the back of your neck to the top of your spine. For a moment you try to speak, but it seems with each attempted sentence his hands move closer and closer to undoing the ties that keep your shift from falling off of you.

The god leads you into your home with a large hand pressed into the small of your back, and into your bedroom as if he had been there before, as if he had memorized the hallways in your home from years of spending time there; as if he was some constant fixture of your household.

The yards and yards worth of fabric from blankets and pillows alike have only ever smelled like you; pockets of your pesky familiar here and there maybe, but nothing that cannot be overpowered by a good night’s rest. It’s a comfort after a long day, something familiar and comforting.

As Thor lowers himself onto the edge of your bed you fear the stench of him will never leave you. A candle of doubt in you wonders if this is a bad thing.

With no hardship he pulls you to him, like a suitor inviting a debutante to be a partner in a waltz – though, this feels less like a dance as each second passes, your heavy breathing akin to a kidnapping than some public displays unadulterated affection.

“It’s cold out here in these woods,” he whispers to you. His hot breath sends shivers down your spine as his hands pet over your shaking form. “I must admit, it would be nice to have a toasty little thing like you to help keep me warm in such a chill.”

You shiver, hoping this behemoth does not mean what you think he means. Alas, as he pushes your long, wild hair to the side to expose the tender skin of your neck – your wildest fears bubble to the surface of your flesh. It’s his hands, so calloused they feel like bark, that manhandle you in the gentlest way possible into a position that makes your face burn hotter than a bonfire.

You’re in his lap now, spine pressed to sternum with him towering over you. For a moment you feel safe in his embrace, his larger-than-life stature making you feel like some protected child. It isn’t until he’s tearing at your clothes with a loud rrrrrrrip that you understand how little this creature truly cares for you. Still, it’s hard not to feel like some fragile, blown-glass vase from the village beyond the mountains, where boys with similarly rough, burnt hands create the most beautiful little sculptures you wish you could afford; an object of which is revered and magnificent, but an object of which holds neither agency nor uniqueness to the rest of the pretty things surrounding it.

It doesn’t occur, in that very moment, that there is no way this god would be cold in the thick of winter – not with heat radiating from him akin to your cat’s fur after being warmed by a particularly warm beam of sunlight. But the deity doesn’t have much need for the truth, not when he’s got your soaked cunt free from its increasingly uncomfortable confines and is tracing the slick up and down the lips between your trembling thighs.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he coos like a mother lying to her child while pulling a rose thorn from a tiny, smooth foot. “It’ll only hurt a little"

Thor’s hands are huge already, but now they seem omnipresent as he pets over your form. Part of you – the sensible part, the part that guided you through being banished from your family and made you carve out a piece of this expansive, soul-crushing forest – that wants to, or at least wants to try to, push him away; tell him no, stop, please, I’ll do anything.

But nothing, nothing but desperate whimpers, ones you wish were from displeasure, leave your lips.

“You know, gods can still starve,” you gulp as the short, wiry hair that patterns his jaw rubs against the skin of your neck and shoulders. “The fish from rivers and boars from the deeper parts of my forest quiet the growling in my gut, but there is another hunger I need satiated.”

You remain silent as before, fearful a protest would make your periled situation that much worse for pitiful little you.

He grips between your legs, palm flat against the hottest part of you, his own hand rough against your own silky folds. As you squeak from the contact Thor laughs deep in his broad chest, leaning down to nibble at the edge of your hot ear. “This piece of fruit will do,” you gasp as a single, thick finger enters your dripping heat. “I love a good juicy peach. You’re absolutely dripping for me, aren’t you?”

Again, he is met with silence. Never one to be deterred, he slips another finger into you. “Humans are so cute,” he purrs. “You all think you’re so strong, always fighting wars that never end and death that always comes. It seems the things you can never resist are a good fight, a good fuck,” a pregnant pause fills your bedroom as he crooks his fingers just right, soliciting the desperate whimper he’s wanted since he spotted you in the woods all those hours ago. “And me.”

He fucks his digits in and out you with slow motions, ones that drive you to the brink of madness. You’ve never been one to coo and moan so unabashedly, to let yourself fall apart so easily for someone who holds so much pure power over you. If you weren’t already vulnerable, you would be now – for as assuredly that the sun rises in the East and you wake up soaked in blood every some thirty days, this man, this god will look down on you and understand how little you can do to fend him, his advances, his charm, from your trembling body.

Thor lays down on your sea of blankets, leaving you feeling empty without his touch. A smug look paints his face as he waits for you to climb up his chest, but you do not move, simply peering at him with a heaving chest and feverish cheeks. Your mind wavers, wondering if his horns will tear into the fabric that paints your bed – but you do not have much time for such frivolous thoughts before they are interrupted once again.

“I wasn’t asking,” he tells you pointedly. “Now, come provide me with the sustenance I so desire.”

Sans your dress, moving up the length of his body is relatively easy. As he grips your hips and lowers you down to his mouth you wish you had some sort of obstruction, some reason to resist the god below you.

No such luck. As before, you are unimaginably vulnerable to Thor and his ways.

He begins with light kisses on the inside of your thighs, still tense and desperate to run away. Thor seems to notice this but does nothing to soothe you and your resistance – he understands much better than you how much he holds above your foolish head.

It doesn’t take long for you to forget your plan of escape, the path of freedom dissipating in the pleasure pooling from your scalp to the nailbeds of your toes. This god is nothing if not skilled, wide strokes of his tongue and nips at your innermost thigh and kisses on your sensitive nub soon having you rutting against his face like a dog in heat, like the wolves from before. Your hands try to find purchase in his wild hair, but with the horns in the way it’s easier to wrap your own fingers around the keratin masses than dig your fingernails into the scalp of the man below you.

You wonder if you’d have considered them less such wild beasts if you knew this was the pleasure they were chasing. Would have not run so quickly if you, too, understood the magic building in your core as you balance yourself against the wall your bed leans against. When Thor leaves you, would the animals accept your contrition and give you the same pleasure this god is? Or would you be left to chase a high no mortal could gift you?

It’s trail of thought cut short by him bullying three of his fingers into you as his lips suck at you, your screams filling every empty bit of air in your homestead. As your own yelps of pleasure fill your ears you cannot sort what is babble and what is tongues, what are incoherent syllables and what are pleas to celestial beings to never leave you.

These, too, are soon muffled, Thor making quick work of your mute state to flip you onto your stomach and propping your ass up toward him. “You know,” he says mostly to himself, knowing his words will fall on ears deaf from ringing. “The Christians who pass through my forest often speak of how the original woman was tempted with an apple and I never believed their silly tales.”

He pauses a moment to trace his fingertips up the ridges of your spine before grabbing at the base of your hair. You yelp, but he ignores you.

“But now…” his unoccupied hand comes down to SMACK at your ass, eliciting another squeak. “Now I feel able to comprehend how such a person could be tempted by the prospect of such delicious sin.”

Too far gone to be ashamed now, you push back against him in hopes of reprieve from your suffering. Without much further wait Thor enters you slow and steady, the one hand still in your hair while the other grips your hip. Thor’s bigger, much bigger than your fingers or the occasional drifter, and your walls and scream the unfamiliar girth.

The man behind you does nothing to soothe you, merely hissing into the cold night air. “God, you little witch,” he grunts behind grit teeth. “Maybe it was worthwhile saving you from those wretched wolves.”

Your mouth hangs open and your lips remain mute, your hands grasping at the sheets until they become impossible to open up again. Nothing, not a single sound of yours, bounces form the walls – merely Thor’s loud grunts and the sound of his skin slapping against yours. It isn’t until his fingers release your hair and move to your neglected clit that you begin to sing for him, screams out of tune and sharp but still smooth music to his ears.

“Yes,” he moans, feeling you contract around him. “Yes you temptress, cum on my cock, fuck let me bring you to your peak.”

How could anyone refuse that? Certainly not you, the spell-caster who was saved by this magnificent, sympathetic creature with a heart of gold and pure intentions. The tight coil in your organs releases with a shout from you and a deep groan from Thor, who continues to fuck into you as you collapse and become limp under his touch. He reaches he peak quickly, stilling for a moment before flipping you over again.

You move easily under his touch, dead weight instead of some feisty, feral little lamb with too much fight in her. On your back, he spreads your legs once again, moving to revere your swollen cunt and his thick seed dripping out of you.

It reminds you of when the artists in the villages step back when they’re finished with their works, admiring their handiwork and talent. You recognize that same affection of progress and of a finished piece in Thor’s eyes, the focused, blown pupils trained on the white trailing down to your sheets and the corners of his mouth turning up into a small, satiated smile. He’s some paragon of silent pride, one hand moving up and down your folds before pushing his seed back into you.

“Beautiful,” Thor whispers, kissing where you are most sensitive once more before moving to lay beside you. The world spins around you as he pulls you into his broad chest, his heart thumping dull in the ear pressed to his heaving ribs.

You say nothing to the contrary, succumbing to sleep like a babe after a long feeding.

orThor disappears just as he entered, confidently and without much fuss. You wake up alone, more alone than you did that morning, surrounded by the very scent of him. Somehow, as the sun comes over the horizon, it’s enough.

Over the next few weeks, everything mostly returns to normal. You go through the ebb and flow of your routine; watching over your territory, eyeing the dark of the night each time the wind made the trees move like children listening to songs around a bonfire. Sometimes the swaying calms you as you clutch a cup of mint tea in your trembling hands, but others it mirrors the churning of your stomach.

Tonight, it feels like both. And tonight, you bury your face in the last of him left with you while hoping you never have to see the god again.

[ch4nb4ng]

Tension builder Pt. 1

Request: bang chan smut where shes felixs sister so she felix and chan are like bffs but eventually like the tension builds. Like, through teenage years even

Word count: 1.2 k

Pairings: (fem) reader x Chris

Warning: Smut lmao

A/n: Hey guys it’s been a while and I’m sorry I have been busy and unmotivated. But I’m back now, enjoy :)

Summary: You and Chris had known each other for a while. The tension was high. You wanted him, he wanted you. But there was one problem, your brother, Lee Felix. And Chris, well, he was Felix’s best mate.

“I’m bored,” you pouted to the boys.

“Why don’t we go watch a movie?” Chris suggests, making you and Felix smile at the idea.

“Oooo okay, let’s go.”

You, Chris and Felix make your way to the car. Felix sits in the back, while you sit in the passenger seat and Chris drives.

“Oh shit. I forgot my phone on the kitchen bench,” Felix puffs, causing you to roll your eyes, “I’ll be back real quick.”

Felix runs out the the car and slams the door behind you, making you jump out of your seat.

“Did you get scared? That’s cute.”

Chris laughs, placing a hand on your thigh, shivering under his touch.

This slight teasing had been going on for weeks. As soon as you met Chris really. ‘Wow he’s sexy’ was your first thought about him. From his hair, to his eyes, well-defined arms and legs. But his lips. His lips were on a whole new level. They were so plump. All you could think about was kissing them, biting them, sucking on them, having them on, well, other places of your body that you desired.

But there was one problem. He was one of Felix’s best friends. Felix. Your brother. Therefore, Chris was off limits. But that didn’t stop him.

*1 month ago*

You were studying Minding your own business, when you heard a knock at the door.

“Felix! Are you gonna get that!” You yell. Nothing

“Felix!” Nothing again.

Sighing, you run downstairs to open the door.

“Sorry I thought Felix was gonna get the d-”

You were interrupted by the one and only Chris standing on the other side. Your eyes widened, heart rate beginning to quicken in his presence.

“Hi Y/n. It’s okay. It’s, nice to see you.”

“Come in.”

You blush, completely embarrassed before standing behind the door, inviting him to come in.

“Would you like something to drink?” you ask, both proceeding towards the kitchen.

“Oh um, some water please.”

You nod, grabbing a glass and pressing it against the fridge, letting the water pour.

“Is Felix home?”

“Well I thought he was,” you answered, back still face towards him, “but I guess not.”

“Well if he’s not home then I can do this.”

“Wha-”

You were interrupted by him pushing you up against the wall, pinning your hands to your side, making you completely powerless.

“C-chris, what are you doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to since the day we met,” he groans, moving his knee in between your inner thighs, lightly rubbing over your clothed core.

You groaned, “Please, Felix will be home any minute,” wrapping your hands around his neck.

“Y/n!!! I’m home!!!!”

You both panicked, completely separating from each other while Felix walked into the room.

“Chris please,” you giggled, “Felix will be back any minute.”

You both laughed, reminding you of the same words you said at your first, intimate encounter. He kept his hand there, rubbing his thumb in small circles.

And on cue, Felix dashed out of the house, running into the car.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Who’s music?”

“Mine!” Chris yells, beating Felix to the punch.

“No. to be honest, I kinda like Felix’s music better.”

“Nah not today,” Chris disagrees, shaking his head, “I’ve got some new music actually. Why don’t we listen to it.”

“Ugh fine,” you say, rolling your eyes.

He connects his phone to this bluetooth, letting the music blast through the speakers. Your eyes widened when you realise what kind of music he put on. He knew The Weeknd was your weakness. He just played one song by him, after the other, and another, another. Your gripped hard onto the seatbelt, using all the strength you had not to pounce onto him then and there.

“Oh yeah this is some good music,”  Felix bangs his head along with the music, jamming out in the back seat, “y/n don’t you love The Weeknd’s music?”

You grit your teeth, trying to not show any kind of emotions to Felix, especially Chris.

“Oh yeah, this music is rEALLY good,” you muttered, giving Chris major side eye from the passenger seat. He laughed, catching on real quickly.

Finally after what seemed like forever, you had arrived to the cinema. Ignoring Chris, you got out of the car, walking ahead of the two.

“Y/n, why are you walking so fast man?” Felix groans, almost out of breath trying to keep up with you.

Trying to stay calm, you turn around to them, plastering the fakest smile on your face,

“I don’t wanna miss the movie, lets go!”

You ran to the booth, ordering 3 tickets to the movie you wanted to see. You grabbed your tickets, and headed into the theater. Purposefully, Chris sat in between you and Felix. You rolled your eyes, refusing to look at him and focus on the movie. But boy, did you pick the wrong movie.

There was passion, lust, desire. All the things that you wanted Chris to do to you were being portrayed. The sexual frustration began to build within you the more and more the movie went on.

To add even more to that, Chris placed his hand over your thigh once more, rubbing his thumb dangerously close to your clothed core. A small moan escaped your lips. You grabbed onto his wrist heavily,

“Chris I swear to god, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what huh? Kill me? Punish me? I don’t think so,’ he whispered in your ear, his seductive tone driving you crazy.

Moving straight along, he undid your zipper, slipping his hand straight into your pants, but not all the way. Keeping his fingertips between the layer of your panties and jeans. Agonisingly slowly, he massage your clit through your panties, eliciting a muffled groan from you. You looked over at Felix, completely unbothered and stuffing his face with popcorn, focusing on the movie.

“Mmm this is so much fun y/n. Making you squirm under my touch.”

Nothing but a stiff moan left your lips. His touch was divine, something you always longed for.

You had to take your sleeve into your mouth, muting the array of noises escaping your mouth. You grabbed onto his arms for support. You knew you couldn’t much longer. Moving back up from your core, he slipped his pants into your panties for time. You arched your back out of the seat from the direct skin to skin contact. A fire ignited within you, your skin feeling flames sparked under you.

“Chris please, if you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you shivered, biting your hand to stop the small, heavy moans that were now unstoppable.

“Cum for me then.”

He flicked his finger faster from side to side, creating the pit in your stomach to get thicker and thicker. You felt the all too familiar feeling of your soon to be orgasm, when he suddenly removed his hand, acting like nothing had just happened.

“Chris what the fuck.” You groan, completely annoyed and unsatisfied.

“Shh, y/n, I’m just trying to watch the movie.”

He turned and looked at you with that stupid fucking sly smirk spread across his face. You turned around and faced the movie.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” You whisper to him, slightly palming your hand over his pants, “revenge is a dish best served cold.”

[cornacopicimagines]

love affair │t.h

 ☆.｡.:*

pairing: king!tom holland x princess!reader

words: 3.9k (wow okay scarlett)

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, verbal abuse

summary: In two separate kingdoms were two lonely monarchs. One can somehow never find love and the other is in a painful engagement but by some sort of divine intervention, they two meet and fall for each other. The only downside is that they don't know it's them.

a/n: i don't know how many parts this series will have, but hopefully all of the chapter will be fleshed out x

teaser

masterlist

chapter 2  chapter 3  chapter 4

 ☆.｡.:*

Something about sitting through these long discussions made y/n want to jump out of the next window she saw, but she knew she had to.

She was first in line for the throne to the Ardonian throne, a royal treasure as her father liked to tell her. She had some many duties to uphold, some many people to impress and some may things looming over her. She couldn't handle it.

"y/n, are you listening to me?" her father; King Albert called out, his gruff voice filling the room. y/n waited for the maids to tie the knot on her corset before she swivelled around to face him.

"I'm sorry father, could you repeat what you said?" y/n asked sweetly trying to avoid her father's wrath against her. He stood up stumbling a bit as he made his way over to his daughter.

"I know you've been subduing the planning for your wedding," Her father spoke sternly, as he watched the rest of y/n's heavy gown be placed on her figure. y/n felt her stomach do turns when her father told her the news.

"I've been busy," y/n said shortly as she went to place her stumpy heels on her feet.

"You need to get married as soon as possible y/n," her father exclaimed angrily, "Our kingdom needs a direct heir," her father snapped. y/n huffed loudly and rolled her eyes.

"Is that all that matters to you," y/n spat back as her hands found themselves placed on her hips, "maybe you should consider my happiness instead of making sure I have children," y/n told him quietly, seriously doubting her father's love for her.

The room fell completely silent as y/n's father stared elsewhere while y/n's had her eyes trained straight on her father. y/n prayed something would happen that cause her father to leave her alone and thankfully something did.

A soft couple of knocks on her door cut the thick air and both monarchs looked to the door intently, "It's open," y/n called out and in walked a middle-aged man dressed in nice clothing and a charming but evil smirk on his face, y/n grimaced.

"I am sorry, your majesty but I need to talk to your daughter," the man spoke lightly as he bowed in the direction of y/n's father before turning to face her. y/n's father smiled widely before slowly making his way out of the room.

Once they were alone, the man swayed toward y/n. She tried to distance herself from him as best she could.

"How's my bride to be?" he asked with a tinge of darkness in his voice.

"Fine, Archduke Willopp," y/n said quietly, not wanting to start a conversation with him. Willopp laughed evilly before he let his hands drift over her waist and he grips it tightly. y/n flinched.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," he whispered in her ear, y/n felt like she was going to be sick all over him.

"I don't want to see you at the moment Willopp," she told him as she finally freed herself from his bruising grasp. Willopp's face immediately darkened.

"You know I don't like it when you walk away from me y/n," he snapped at her, his hand clamping down on her wrist. Her head whipped around to see her fiancee's face turn into a menacing frown. y/n's heart pounded against her ribcage as she watched Willopp come closer to her face. She didn't know if she would walk out of her with bruises on her body or a spit on her face. "So why are you walking away from me, you stupid little girl," Willopp spoke with venom lacing his tone. y/n stood there, her legs almost buckling in fear from Willopp's proximity to her face.

"Leave me - alone," y/n stuttered out as she snatched her arm away from Willopp and pushed him off her. Willopp grumbled something angrily under his breath before he stomped out of the massive room and slammed the door shut.

y/n stood there in absolute disgust, why was he so cruel to her? Why is Willopp her fiancee? And Why did her father let him marry her? y/n slumped against her solid gold walls and let her face fall into her hands as she sobbed into her palms.

☆.｡.:*

Across the large sea was another distraught monarch this time in Tom. He had just been crowned king after his father's tragic passing. He sat at the head of the impossible long table, Tom remembers when he was still a young prince sitting at this very table eating dinner with his family and close friends. He wished he could revisit that time.

He was just enjoying the quietness of his own company when the large door swung open and a scatter of feet came rushing in. Tom immediately knew who was running in.

"Darling, I have amazing news!" His mother's voice came calling out, Tom sucked in his breath not really wanting to deal with his mother at this moment.

"Yes, Mum?" Tom asked sweetly, trying to hide his uninterest with a smile.

Nikki has been through a lot in the past few months, with the death of her husband; the king and then an attempt on her sons' lives. She asked Tom not to pity her, but sometimes it was hard for him not to.

"I was talking with Baroness Diona and she said she has a daughter that is undivorced and still looking for love," Nikki smiled happily as she clapped her hands in celebration.

Tom sighed loudly as he turned to face his mother, "as much as I appreciate you trying to get me married, all the women at court are only wanting to be with me because I am king," he let his finger massage his temple softly, "and besides I want a wife who loves me, just like you and Dad," Tom told her with a lovesick smile on his face.

Nikki's hand stroked her son's face gently, "as much as I want that for not only you Tom but your brothers as well, sometimes that is not true," Nikki exclaimed sadly, she did truly want all of her sons married off with women that they loved but she knew in her heart that is an unreachable dream.

"I know mum, I know," Tom spoke sadly. The pair stood there in silence before the doors opened once again, this time two guards walked in.

"The boat is ready sir," they spoke almost in unison to Tom, who nodded in agreement. Tom could see his mother look up at him with an odd look.

"King Albert has invited us to go to a massive ball for their princess in Ardonia," Tom explained as he snatched his luxurious coat from the chair and swung it over his shoulders. "Don't worry, I'll be back in about a month and I am taking Harrison and The twins with me," Tom told Nikki quickly, knowing she would have a go at him for leaving. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and ran out.

On his way to the boat, he met up with Harrison, who was a high ranking Archduke and one of the most respected men at court, especially with the ladies.

"Your majesty," Harrison exclaimed sarcastically as he bowed slightly. Tom chuckled before he slapped Harrison on his forearm harshly. Both men boarded the boat, Tom felt the sea breeze hit his face. He remembers when his Dad would bring him on the boat and Tom would help the fishermen and the crew with their chores, God I miss him Tom thought to himself.

"Are the twins on yet?" Tom asked Harrison, in an attempt to distract himself from the memories of his father.

It took Harrison a second to spot Harry and Sam but once he did, he pointed them out to Tom who simply nodded away.

As if on cue, Harry and Sam met up with their brother and Harrison with wide grins on their faces. Tom felt an odd sense of mischief from the two.

"What's going on with you two?" Tom asked hesitatingly. The twins looked at each other before turned back to their brother with even bigger smiles.

"So we were talking around before our trip and it seems like two night before the big gathering, there is an intimate masquerade ball happening in a nearby Duke's land and we got the four of us a ticket in," Harry told Tom, with Sam grinning brightly next to him.

"I don't know, Mum would kill us if she knew we were going to it," Tom spoke but immediately regretted it. He was the King of the mighty land of Heladien and yet he was afraid that his mother would punish him for a night out like a child, "you know what, I need some fun," Tom said happily as he watched the men surrounding him rejoice.

Harrison placed both of his hands on Tom's shoulders and leaned in, "hopefully we can get you a nice lady to sleep with at the ball," Harrison spoke sneakily.

"It would be better if Tom could get the Princess herself," Sam said, wanting to go unnoticed but it went fully into everyone's ears.

"What do you mean by that?" Tom asked, actually quite puzzled as to why his brother would say that.

"Oh just heard that Princess y/n is supposedly phenomenally gorgeous and that if you did sleep with her it would be good for Heladien," Sam said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Tom said nothing but tried to incision what The Princess actually looked like. Guess he'll have to find out.

☆.｡.:*

y/n sat at the stand, fiddling with her earrings and fixing her tied up hair. She was supposed to be going to sleep when in reality, y/n was getting ready for the annual masquerade ball held by a nearby Duke and his wife.

"This is going to be absolutely smashing," Ophelia; one of y/n's ladies in waiting spoke up as she flattened her sky blue dress. y/n smiled warmly at the reflection of her friend in the mirror.

"Hopefully I found a suitor at this ball, heard a lot of powerful men are going to be there," Elvira, another one of her ladies exclaimed as she tried pushing her corset higher to enhance her chest.

"You'll scare off men with those massive diamonds hanging by your neck," Jade, the last of her ladies giggled as she pointed to the large diamond necklace on Elvira's neck given to her by y/n herself.

"Hey, the men will think I have a wealthy family and that means a wealthy husband," Elvira clapped happily as she fanned herself.

"Oh, would you look at the time," Ophelia gasped loudly, the other 3 women glanced at the clock and immediately started to pack you their things in a rush and run out of the room.

The carriage ride went spent pre-drinking expensive champagne and gossiping about the people attending, that was until a certain name appeared in the conversation.

"I heard you father invited King Tom to your gathering in two days," Jade told y/n as she sipped the alcohol.

"It wouldn't surprise me, my father adores Tom, I have never met him yet my Dad tells me he is like a second son to him," y/n scoffed as she poured another glass.

"Wonder if he is coming to the ball?" Ophelia asked excitedly as she wiggled her way into the group.

"If he is, the other girls there are going to have to kill me to get me off him," Elvira spoke devilishly, cackling in the process.

Y/n stayed silent in her corner of the carriage. She stared out at the passing trees and wonder who Tom could be and how he could demand such respect from her father. Better yet, what he looks like, a girl had to know. Quickly y/n snapped out of her quizzed exclusion and swivelled back to the group.

"Who cares," y/n called out, "this is the one night a year when I can be someone else and not the Princess!" y/n cheered loudly as she prompted the other girl to toast their glasses in celebration.

☆.｡.:*

The night went fast for both of them. y/n was out enjoying being a complete stranger for just one night, she was enjoying not having to constantly curtsy and stand straight and enjoying not having people breathing down her neck at every waking moment. Tom was loving the festivities of Ardonia. He must admit they knew how to party, he also was revelling in the fact that no one knew who he was or what his title was. They loved this.

Tom was loving having women flock to him, by because he wore a crown on his head but because he was handsome and charming, it made him feel great about himself. y/n adored flirting with men, having them gaze upon her as if she was meant to be theirs. She would obviously never cheat on Willopp, even if she so desperately wanted to. She wouldn't, right?

y/n had lost her friends in the crowd, they were next to her one minute and then they were mysteriously missing from her company. So she went on a wild goose chase.

She was asking random people about their whereabouts, she was searching in places she didn't want to and most of all, just shouting their names amidst the crowds' loud chatter.

y/n had her eyes trained on her now throbbing feet, she was so focused on the pain that she had no idea that there was a man standing right in front of her. They collided and y/n lost her footing, luckily the masked man expertly slid his hand behind her waist and gripped tightly.

Tom, on the other hand, was just walking to grab some more liquor for himself and his friends when this random lady ran straight into him and Tom could see that she was going to stumble to the floor, so he quickly secured her in his arms.

To put it simply, sparks flew. They both felt it and they both knew it.

"Hello," y/n spoke sheepishly, feeling a hot blush creep on her face, thank god for the mask. She had a good look into his warm chocolate brown eyes, they looked so inviting yet so mysterious.

"Hi," Tom responded with absolute romance filling his voice. They stayed there, staring at each other intensely for what felt like hours when in reality y/n quickly snapped out of her lovesick haze but giving a small cough. She stood straight and tried to make herself look as proper as she could in her quite tipsy state.

"Have you seen 3 women? around my age?" y/n asked quietly just wanting to stare at his face for a little longer. Tom heard her question and chuckled loudly.

"There are a lot of women here tonight sweetheart," Tom told her lowly in an attempt to try and seduce her but to y/n his voice already sounded like absolute sex, "you're going to have to be more specific."

"Well," y/n started, trying to think of a way to tell this man who her friends were without exposing her true identity. "They are the ladies in waiting for the Princess," y/n told him with a beam on her face.

Tom felt his stomach do flips when she flashed him that smile. "How are you friends with the ladies in waiting to Princess y/n," Tom asked her, curious to find out who this stunning woman was. Tom could see her face crinkle up with his question.

"I myself am a lady in waiting to the Princess," y/n spoke quickly, her adrenaline was running at an all-time high, she felt like she was going to get addicted to this feeling of rebelliousness.

"What about your name sweetheart," Tom asked her again, this time he took a step closer to her.

y/n stared up at him with worry, as she tried to rack her brain of answers before a large smirk fell on her face, "isn't the whole idea of a masquerade ball, not to know people's names."

Tom watched the woman take two steps closer to him, their breaths were now intertwined and her hands fell onto the tight restraints of his shirt.

Y/n tried to weave her arms around him but as one of her hands touched the top of his chest, she almost moaned at the feeling of his obviously perfectly sculpted chest.

Tom had leaned down to the woman, feeling a wave of confidence hit him as he watched the woman admire him. "That doesn't mean I can't know your body right?" Tom asked her innocently.

The question but y/n off guard, her knees almost buckled at the way his hot breath wafted over her features. All she wanted to do was crash her lips on his, so she did.

They kissed in the dim light of the ballroom. Her hands found themselves perfectly seated on his sculpted jawline. While Tom has his arms snaked around her waist and scooped her in tighter. By some sort of divine intervention, it felt like they were meant for each other. The way their lips moved together, like a key slipping in a lock. They had only been talking for 10 minutes before they pounced on each other.

y/n popped her lips off Tom slowly, wanting to continue with their little moment of passion. "I know the duke has a lot of rooms, how about we occupy one?" y/n asked him devilishly, she wanted for the man to answer but instead she got a furious nod from him.

There was no going back now, if she wasn't on the verge of being drunk, y/n would have run away before she could write her death sentence by sleeping with this incredibly attractive man.

The two immediately ran off, skipping down the halls, y/n thought they looked like something out of a fairytale, with the man's well-done suit and dress shoes clicking on the tiled floor and her dress flowing behind her as they rushed to find an unoccupied room. Their lips found each other every once in a while with laughs and moans combined.

Finally, the pair stumbled into a dark empty room. Tom's hands multitask to open the door but still weave themselves in her silky hair. Tom took a good look at the seductive woman in the heat of the moment. Her e/c eyes basically sparkled with desire and glimmered with love. Tom knew he would never forget those beautiful eyes.

It didn't take long for the pair to strip themselves of their tight formal clothing, y/n saw his hands reach for his mask to slid it off his face, her hands shot up to stop him. The man peered down to y/n with a confused look in his face.

"No, for one night I don't want to know who you are," y/n told him lowly as she guided him to the immense amount of bedding behind them. "I kind of like the mystery of it," she confessed quietly.

Tom heard everything she said and smiled to himself before he connected their lips once more and threw the woman across the bed.

There was no going back for either of them.

☆.｡.:*

It had been a day and a half since Tom and y/n unknowingly slept with each other.

Tom remembers the night that an angel embraced him. He was determined to find this woman before they left for Heladien in a fortnight. He remembers the softness of her skin, the warmness of her touch. Luckily for him, he would see her again since she had told him she was a lady in waiting for the Princess and Tom, Harrison, Harry & Sam were about to leave the gathering of Princess y/n. The perfect opportunity to hopefully spend another blissful night with her.

y/n, on the other hand, tried her best to not think of her infidelity. She wanted to lock the memory up and throw it away but it was tough.

She just couldn't get him out of her head, the way he spoke to her, a sweetness but still a firmness. Something she had never had. The way he touched her, it was not in an aggressive way like the how Willopp handles her but it was gentle and kind. y/n still recalls having her fingers tangled in the adorable mop of brown curls on his head while he was pounding her.

God, it was the sex too that seemed to push everything to a high. It seemed as if he had years of practice, he seemed to instantly know every nook and cranny of her body and left her struggling to walk the next morning. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

Like in the present, she was in her most formal attire, an elegantly large red dress that showed just enough cleavage and covered the right amount as well. y/n tried to listen to an old lord drag on about his dreary children, she picked up a few things at a time but hardly got the bigger picture. Luckily, King Albert had whisked y/n away from that awful conversation.

"Tonight has been lovely dad," y/n told her father with a smile on her face. Usually, y/n would have to lie straight to his face but the night had been bearable, mostly because she had come in contact with her monstrous fiancee.

Albert stared down at his daughter with one of the only warm smiles he has ever given her. "I want you to finally meet King Tom," her father told y/n before he peered off in the distance oddly, "how I wish he was my son."

"Thanks, dad," y/n huffed, slightly annoyed at her father's comment. It seems as if Albert hadn't even heard his daughter's comment as he showed y/n to his side and three young men turned to face the royal family.

"Darling these are Prince Harry & Sam of Heladien and Archduke Osterfield," Her father said proudly as y/n watched his hand drift over each other the boys, "I have no idea where King Tom is though," Albert said under his breath as he searched around for the missing monarch. When suddenly a final man pushed past the crowd of people and went straight to hug y/n's father.

"Your majesty, how have you been?" Tom asked happily, nor he or y/n had seen each other's faces yet. Tom pulled away from Albert, who was smiling at him lovingly.

"Tom, I'd like you to finally meet my daughter, the Princess," Albert announced to Tom who followed where King Albert was point and spotted a young woman in a stunning gown. The two locked eyes. Tom's heart raced and his mind toyed with memories of that night. While y/n felt her whole world crumble in front of her but her body burned with love.

They had fallen for each other without either of them knowing.

☆.｡.:*

TAGS: @s-p-i-d-e-y-senses @musicandbokkslovingweirdo @avatarkyoshithewarrior @jackiehollanderr @thebadassbitchqueen @sweetest--sorrow @pignolithecookie @hollandechart @juice-for-holland  @lawrysawry @choke-me-sweet-pea @ladyblablabla @voidtrixie @smexylemony @justmesadgirl @chingonaconcha @vixxee

[justjen523]

Tryst

Zyglavis x MC

(Rating M 18+)

Sorry again guys about the computer incident but like I promised I won’t just leave ya hanging. Here’s a one shot smut piece for my ladies who need their Zyglavis fix!

His intense silver eyes stared up at me. I didn’t have to see his mouth to know he was smiling. He loved to tease, tantalising and lustful his every movement was driving me wild.

“Mmm…god Zyglavis….that feels… ah…so good.” A dark, low and devilish snigger spilled from his lips as I writhed, consumed in the delicious way he was devouring me between my legs.

“More…please…. please don’t stop…I….” Honestly I was surprised I could even form words let alone string them together. My legs were drooped over his shoulders as I sat on top of his desk in his room. His knees on the floor in front of me he held me by my thighs as I was quickly losing myself to his passion. His hot slippery tongue stroked up and down before dipping inside of me making my body quake with his every movement.

“S-Shit..I’m gonna…oh god…” He smirked at me devilishly as just as I was about to climax he stopped making me hiss in frustration.

“What?! Are you serious?!” He laughed demonically as he got to his feet and stood between my legs preventing me from going anywhere.

“I sincerely hope you didn’t think that it was going to be that simple with me. Or perhaps you have forgotten who it is you are with.” Zyglavis had never been anything less than uncomfortably intense and a stickler for the rules. I lost track of how many times I ended up writing letters of apologies with Ichthys due to insubordination. I had even served my fair share of time-outs for merely running through the hall.

“What, do you want me to beg?”

“That is not necessary though it’s not without merit.” His wicked grin while aggrivating also turned me on unlike anything else I had ever known. This was the first time we had ever done anything. Before today I actually assumed the Minister of Punishments strongly disliked me. I rarely ever saw him smile let alone speak in a casual manner. How we ended up here was beyond me but after seeing the man behind the mask I was definitely not complaining.

“I am simply enjoying playing with my new toy, I’m sure even you can understand the appeal of doing such a thing.”

“Toy?!” However, before I could say anything more his lips pressed feverishly against mine stealing my breath away. While for the briefest moment it registered that Zyglavis and I were actually kissing, once his tongue entered my mouth I instantly turned to marshmallows in his surprisingly more than adept hands.

The way his large warm hands cradled my face as he kissed me deeply only further fanned the flames of desire coursing through my veins. I could barely contain myself. Every time his lips briefly parted mine simply to reclaim my mouth from a different angle caused my heart to drum louder and louder. I never would have guessed in a billion years that Zyglavis of all the Gods would have me in such a desperate state.

Wrapping my legs around his waist I tried to pull him closer still only to earn another mischievous smirk.

“My you are certainly unlike anything I expected. Do you really find yourself that attracted to me?” Unanticipating that question and with him in such close proximity my face quickly felt overtaken by the heat of shy embarrassment. When I tried to look away he was too quick and grabbed my hands holding me in place so he could peer into my face only further darkening the red that was causing my cheeks to glow.

“Aggressive yet shy, you are quite a contradiction. I would be lying if I said I didn’t find you absolutely fascinating. Tell me, what are your limitations exactly?”

“Limitations?”

“I could spend days on end exploring every inch of your mind and body but I am afraid because you are merely human that such a thing is not possible. Since our options and time is limited what are you willing to allow me to do to that tiny body of yours?” The seriousness of that question has me trembling with excitement, nervousness and fear. Zyglavis is a god. A Divine being vastly different from myself in almost every possible way. While at this point I would allow him to do all sorts of things to my body I honestly have no idea what differences await us as we are from two separate worlds.

“Can we even do anything? I mean, isn’t it taboo for a human and a god to be intimate?” A surprised yet pleased and mildly excited smile responds first to my question.

“You are correct. It is one of many divine laws of the Heaven’s that a god such as myself is not to ever lay with a human.”

“Then….we really can’t do anything can we?”

“If that were not an issue what is it that you would like me to do to you?”

“Err….”

“Oh come now, we are past the point of you feigning coyness. Tell me what exactly you picture me doing?”

“I-I-I…don’t know…uhh….” Still donning a dark looking smirk he brings his lips to my ear and whispers his next few words.

“You know exactly what you desire, I can see it in your eyes. It is not wise to lie to a god, especially when he has you trapped between his legs.” I can’t prevent the quiet gasp that falls out at his words ripe with implication.

“That’s right, I know all of your deepest darkest wishes despite being a Punishments god. I know how much you want me. I can feel it pulsing through your veins and smell it on your skin. You loved the way it felt when I ate your pussy, so much so you’d give anything for more. Isn’t that right you naughty little girl?” Too speechless to answer I simply stare at him unsure of how to respond.

“You want to be punished don’t you? And what’s more is that you want me to be the one to do it. I do not mind in the least. I simply want to hear you say it in your own words.”

“I….. I…” When I hesitate he leans in and nibbles on my ear before speaking in an impossibly low and sexy voice.

“I won’t know unless you tell me.”

“I want…. I…..want…you Zyglavis.” I finally manage and am rewarded with soft sensual kisses all along my neck.

“Very good, but I need to know more. Do you want my mouth?” His lips brush against my skin setting it on fire.

“My hands?” His hands travel the expanse of my body making me tremble under his touch. Suddenly he roughly spins me around and bends me face first over his desk before pressing firmly against my backside.

“My cock?” I can feel how hard he is through his pants and the sudden thought of him actually fucking me becomes impossible for me to try and supress.

“Nmm yes… your cock. I want you to fuck me Zyglavis, please.” The warmth of his body bends over me but a moment in response.

“Well done. For your honesty I shall grant your wish despite it being against the law. Speak of it to no one otherwise this will be the first, last and only time you ever see this side of me understood?” Unable to speak I simply nod awaiting his next move.

*SNAP*

His hand glides elegantly over my rear as he takes in the sight.

“Are you certain you are ready? I must warn you, I am not gentle.” Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves and prepare myself I nod.

“I’m ready for my punishment Minister.”

“Very well, let’s begin.” Keeping true to his word nothing about what happens next is kind or gentle. It’s a rough hard pounding that hurts so good you don’t know whether to cry or beg for more.

He wastes no time in burying his huge thick cock inside my tiny by comparison entrance. As I gasp at the sudden sensation he chuckles darkly before leaning over me and holding my wrists with his hands.

“Be a good girl and hold still, I wouldn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have to.” Every thrust is painfully rough as he pounds his lust into me. I can barely breathe at the intense and overwhelming size of his godly cock filling me to the brim as it thrusts harshly in and out. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air as his desk absorbs my cries of pain and ecstasy. When his rhythm starts to falter I know he’s close.

“Harder Zyglavis! Punish me! Punish me!” Just as he’s about to shoot his load I push him off and drop to my knees in front of him taking his swollen throbbing cock in my mouth before sucking the cum out.

“Unnnh…Nmmm that’s a good girl, take it all.” His long black lashes flutter as he empties himself into my mouth and down my throat. He doesn’t remove it until I have milked out every single last drop.

When I finally get to my feet I nearly fall over from the afterglow and the lingering heat and throbbing between my legs. Zyglavis pushes me gently onto his bed smiling at me.

“You may rest here tonight, but do not make the mistake of falling asleep. We are just getting started.”

[honeylikewords]

I know I have no right to do this because I haven't even seen the film yet but --

It was his fault. All of it. It was his fault for being too cocky, it was his fault for dragging God into this, and his fault for being born at all.

But Clyde had been so sure – just so sure – that if he prayed hard enough, that God would give them a baby girl. He’d worked his brain into overtime, perfecting the image of the little angel in his mind’s eye. She looked nothing like him (he didn’t want her to look anything like his sorry ass), but she looked every bit of divine as her momma.

Her sparkling eyes, her smooth skin, her perfect everything. But, most importantly, she wouldn’t have her pathetic pappy’s curse. Really, though, in his mind, the fact that she wouldn’t have the curse would’ve been reason enough for her to better resemble her mother.

The certainty that Clyde had earned God’s favor enough to assure that his first born would be a girl had been enough to keep the two of you from revealing the baby’s gender. Or, rather, it had been enough for Clyde to abstain from confirmation. You simply went along with it, though you occasionally did gently remind him that the world was filled with possibilities. You made sure to obtain gender-neutral colors for clothes and the bedroom “just in case.”

He’d been cocky. So confident that he had won out for the second time in his life (the first time being you). And for that, God was punishing him. The curse dropped back down not only upon himself, but his newborn son as well.

The moment of joy brought on by the infant’s first cries was instantly dampened by the doctor’s own cry: “Congratulations: It’s a boy!” The small, tired sound of pure happiness that you had released didn’t fall upon Clyde’s ears. For regardless of all the noises going on in the present – your small sobs of relief, the beeping of the hospital machinery, the doctors’ footsteps pattering around the room, and his son’s whimpers from the cold and bright lights – Clyde wasn’t present enough to hear any of it. He was far off in a place where time was inconsistent.

He was in the past, where he, as a Logan boy, was getting bullied and ridiculed, constantly getting screwed over by some unseen force of nature and his own damn self. He was in the present, in a blank space where all that he could hear, all that he could think, was “Logan boy! Logan boy! Unlucky Logan boy!” And then he was in the future, seeing his poor, cursed child reliving all of his mistakes and then some, disdaining his father for leaving only something so awful to inherit and wishing he’d never been brought into creation.

The nurses assumed that the gulp he’d made, followed by the trembling of his lips and watering of his eyes had been fatherly pride. After all, he had a child now. A son. And a big boy, at that, weighing in at 8 lbs and 6 oz. He was, to say the least, quite healthy.

The baby also appeared to be quite loving, as the moment he was placed into your arms, his crying stopped and his sobs calmed down into small, body-shaking hiccups.

“Oh!” you breathed, whipping Clyde back into the present – the real present. In this one, you were tearing up at the sight of the blanketed thing in your arms. “Oh, Clyde,” your voice cracked with tears. “He’s beautiful!”

Clyde wouldn’t know. He didn’t want to look down. He didn’t want to look down and see himself, both literally and metaphorically. To see an unfortunate child, both in luck and looks.

“… Clyde,” your voice sounded so soft. Probably because you were tired after such a long labor. “Clyde, look at your son.” You almost sounded as though you were pleading. Clyde was never one to ignore your requests. No matter how painful.

The tearing up from shame made for a shuttering inhale as he looked down to meet his poor child.

His features were round and pink, not too defined being that he wasn’t even five minutes old. He looked upset, but his calm breathing suggested otherwise. And the thick, black mop already developing on his little head suggested that he already was taking on Clyde’s attributes. Just a pinkish gumwad with a poof of black wisps and an upset expression.

He was the most beautiful thing Clyde had ever dared to look it.

A small “oh” managed to slip out from behind the lump in Clyde’s throat. You smiled tiredly by his side.

“Come on, honey, you gotta hold him,” you said, lifting the big baby up and closer to his daddy. Clyde didn’t mean to move so suddenly; all he had meant to do was move away from his own child.

“Uh, I –” he started before giving up. You lowered your arms, brows furrowing slightly. Clyde could see a hint of disappointment on your face. He sighed. “I jus’ … I don’t wanna hurt ‘em. He’s so tiny …”

But in admitting such, it appeared that Clyde had hurt you. The expression you now wore held so much surprise and pain – for him. He was a father now, and still all he could think about (or fear about) was his lack of luck and how it may cause him to do awful things, no matter what he’d intended or didn’t intend to do.

“Clyde,” you spoke quietly. “He’s your son. Nothing’s gonna happen to him, I promise.” He didn’t seem convinced, still stiff as a board as he hesitantly eyeballed the blanketed blob. You bit your lip. “How about … How about I hold him with one hand, and you hold him with the other –”

“My arm might pop off and he’ll drop.”

“It will not,” you asserted sternly. And that was that. After all, Clyde could never easily say no to you or turn you down. He made sure to lean in close enough to you so that there were no gaps between you, himself, or the bed. He fought to keep from thinking about the millions of ways the bed could collapse or how he could unintentionally hurt the baby. Even as you slowly maneuvered the child into a position between the two of you, Clyde had his doubts.

The weight was pretty light, especially considering how thick of a man Clyde was. It was actually almost comedically enjoyable, based on what he could feel. Every so often, the slumbering angel would jolt (“It’s just him getting used to his nerves, don’t worry about it,” the doctors had advised moments earlier). But even more often, he would release a tiny exhale that sounded like a sigh. One big enough to rumble through his tiny body. Often accompanied by his tiny tongue smacking against his lips.

He had Clyde’s hair, but Clyde wanted to believe that he also had your ears. But the very small, barely noticeable dot underneath his closed right eye suggested a mole. One of Clyde’s. The first thought that came to mind, much to Clyde’s own surprise, was not so much how worried he was about his son inheriting his appearance, but that the placement of said mole suggested that he’d grow up to be a pretty boy.

“See?” he heard you whisper beside him. “Nothin’ to it. You’re a natural.” Clyde offered you half of a smile when the baby shuddered and wriggled slightly. Out of his own protective instincts, Clyde couldn’t stop himself from raising his other arm to place it as further support on the child’s back. The wriggling stopped almost instantaneously. The angling at which Clyde was now hunched felt awkward. Out of reflex, he sat upright, taking the baby with him, but not your arm. It had long since returned back to your side, your eyes now capturing every movement of your husband in this moment.

“A natural,” you whispered once again. Your smile didn’t falter even for an instant when Clyde looked between you and his child. It was only when his son’s head began to shift ever so slightly that he stopped and landed firmly on the being in his arms.

His eyes stared right back into his own. They were smaller, purer, and so filled with love and unaware of the meaning of the word “loneliness” or of life’s hardships, but there was no second-guessing about it: They were Clyde’s eyes. And they had never been so beautiful to Clyde before now.

This was the thing that triggered Clyde inside. Indeed, having yet another Logan boy did put him in the mindset of having a child repeat his own life. But the catch was, now he had a daddy who was going to assure that nothing went wrong. This second chance, but better.

Once again, Clyde returned into the scape where time was skewed: He saw the past where he could have fixed things, he saw the future where his son, all handsome and beloved, was the first real lucky Logan to walk the county and, eventually, the world. But for now, he just needed to see the present. The present where you, tired from many hours of pain and discomfort, were catching up on your well-deserved rest. The present where he, a sorry S.O.B., was being graced by the presence of his small but beautiful family that he’d made for himself.

The present where Clyde Logan, as he stared down at the beautiful, tiny creature staring right back at him, wordlessly communicated how much love he felt for the newborn.

It was in this present that he would assure that future he was seeing. Starting with assuring that no harm would ever come upon his child. Not ever. Curse be damned.

Because if there was one thing a curse should never underestimate, it would be the boundlessness of one’s love for their family.

i sneakily pulled my phone out and checked my inbox inbetween classes today and when i saw this, i gASPED. i couldn’t put my phone down, not even when a girl started asking me about my disabilities accommodations. i had to keep reading.

and then i started crying.

i am SO in love with this story and i love you and i love, love, love clyde. i ended up actually doing a sketch of clyde and his baby son and i started crying more at his sweet face and i just,,, let me write a reply to this that’s actually interesting to read oh goodness

clyde logan is the unluckiest logan of all. his momma may have up and died and his daddy may have been a no-good sack of rancid rat meat, and maybe his aunt lost that winning lotto ticket and maybe his uncle got electrocuted, but clyde? clyde’s had it the worst of all of them.

nearly every part of clyde logan’s life has been cursed from beginning to end. there’s only been one bright spot, one success: his wife.

she was the thing that convinced him the curse was over, in some way. he had to be cleansed of the curse, surely, if such a beautiful thing would fall into his lap like this. he can’t be cursed if such wonder and goodness exists within arm’s reach. 

but part of him is terrified that maybe the curse is just dormant and waiting to strike the next generation, a viper in the grass. so when he finds out that his miracle girl, his curse breaker, his one victory, is pregnant with his child, the combination of fear and joy is IMMENSE.

but holding his son, he strokes his cheek and stares at him and sees that this must be the first child born in the logan lineage that hasn’t got the curse. there can be nothing, nothing at all in his beautiful, perfect little boy, that’s cursed. and if there is?

he, clyde caleb logan, will do everything he can to protect his boy. because there’s one thing that’s been missing in the logan line: love.

no fathers loved their children. none of them cared to protect their offspring; they were too busy lamenting their own losses and scourging the name logan for their misfortune. they forgot to protect their sons, and maybe, if they had, the curse would’ve died off. maybe it wouldn’t have been as powerful if they’d been able to  find it in their hearts to live on in kindness, curse or no.

so he’s gonna love. he’s gonna love his wife, his son. he’s gonna love jimmy and mellie and his niece and everyone he can, because love is more important than any number of lost arms, electrocutions, or jail sentences. love will win out.

he kisses his son’s brow and cries, soft and tender, into the dark, downy hairs that crown his baby’s head. that’s his baby. that’s his little angel, an angel descended from the most beautiful, angelic woman in the world. and clyde’s part of that world, now. he’s blessed.

so curse or no, he’s got it all. everything.

and he won’t give it up.

[godstery-blogspot-com]

1.8 信仰

The east dawn,the sun flooded the square in front of the ziggurat, the Will was holding a grand new king enthroned. The square was full of people and spread to the surrounding streets. They looked solemn and stared at the ziggurat. The high-ranking slaves around all looked down at their toes. If anyone dared to look up or steal a glance, they would be beheaded for blasphemy.

High priest Flam was leading them to pray to God Willier. The scene was extremely quiet, but Flam felt a little nervous. He hasn’t received the oracle for many days, and he hasn’t had it since Gilgamesh’s departure. This kind of disconnection has happened before, but the difference was that this time the statue has undergone a subtle change. He could no longer feel the “light” on the statue, “Is my cultivation regressing?” He suspected.

According to the previous plan, the candidate crown should have long been appointed as the new king, but Willier God did not reply for a long time. The country cannot be without a king, he thought. Act as planned for the time being, if God Willler is dissatisfied with the new king, he can issue an oracle to abolish him.

After the prayer, Flam stood on a high platform and said loudly to everyone, “The old king Gilgamesh is dead, today the new king will succeed him and continue to take over the will of Willier God.”

A man in a robe knelt towards the statue, and Flam stood between him and it. Flam held his staff and hit the man’s left shoulder hard and said loudly, “Don't be afraid of hardships and dangers, have the courage to make dedication, can you sustain it?” The sound was spread to everyone’s ears by mana.

“I can!” The man said loudly.

Flam slammed staff on his right shoulder again, “Diligence and love for the people, fairness and justice, can you sustain it?”

“I can!” The sound was almost roaring from the high platform.

Flam hit the man on the head with staff, then turned sideways to let the statue behind him, crossed his hands on his chest and knelt down towards the statue, “ Serve the lord loyally, unswervingly till death, can you sustain it?”

“Noway！” before the new king could answer, a voice came from the crowd on the street. Although the tone was not high, it was crisp and neat, and it was very ear-piercing in such a quiet environment.

Everyone was shocked, and at the same time focused on the source of the sound, even the slave who bowed his head couldn’t help but want to take a peek.

A man dressed in leather and a battle axe on his back, strutted towards the ziggurat——It’s Gilgamesh.

The city people around him were surprised and happy, puzzled in their hearts, and subconsciously gave up a way.

“Willier is despicable and shameless. He avenged his benefactor, deceive the people and steal fame, a beast in human clothing, and still being a god?” Gilgamesh said as he went up the steps, his eyes fixed on the Flam.

The soldiers around didn’t stop him, after all, his prestige in the army was very high.

The crowd began to whisper.

Flam squinted his eyes and saw that it was Gilgamesh, and he was also suspicious. But he looked calm, looked down proudly and said, “How dare you blaspheme!”

“I didn’t blaspheme him, I‘m going to kill him.” Gilgamesh said coldly.

Everyone was horrified, with incredible expressions on their faces.

Gilgamesh took the scroll from his arms and threw it at Flam. “The map back to you!”

Flam’s expression changed suddenly and he ordered the new king beside him, “Kill him quickly, I‘ll enchant you!”

The new king drew the sword from the guard next to him and ran towards Gilgamesh. Under Flam’s enchantment, he felt as light as a swallow, his speed and strength were several times higher than before. He jumped up full of confidence and swung his sword towards Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh stared at Flam intently. When the new king came close to him, he dodged the blade slightly on his side. Before the new king landed, he exerted force with his right foot and hit with his left shoulder, knocking the new king off the stage.

All this happened extremely fast. It seemed to everyone in the square that the new king quickly rushed down the steps and then jumped down from the side, just landed his head first.

“wimp!” Flam thought. Even with the magic, Flam can’t let him fly back to the stage.

Just listen to Gilgamesh’s vicious words, “You really know the truth, more than 1,200 blood debts, let’s take your life to pay it.” He rushed to the stage, raised the battle axe, and slashed towards Flam.

Flam’s eyes were full of contempt, and his figure disappeared when the axe blade was about to touch the top of his head.

“Stupid, how could you hurt me, you and I are not on the same level at all, you have not understood what space is.” The voice came from behind Gilgamesh.

Gilgamesh didn’t answer, didn’t turn his head, hit the ground on his toes, and bounced back.

Flam teleported to the side like a matador playing with a bull. Always unable to reach Flam’s body.

Gilgamesh suddenly turned around and threw a vine with his left hand and put it on Flam’s wrist.

The vine was not thick but extremely tough. The point was that Flam suddenly found that he could not perform any magical skills!

Although Flam realm is high, compared with Gilgamesh in physical skills, it’s like the difference between cloud and mud.

Gilgamesh exerted force under his feet and shook his left arm forcefully. Flam was swung onto the stone statue.

Flam had a sharp pain in his back that shook him out of breath, but the feeling did not last long. With a flash of silver light, his neck and the statue behind him were cut off.

Under the gaze of everyone’s eyes, the statue was broken in two, and accompanied by the blood spurted from the body that lost its head, it crashed down.

Flam’s head rolled down onto the square, with an expression of unbelievable horror on his face.

Gilgamesh stood on the high platform, looked around and shouted at the people, “Anyone who believes in Willier or prays to him will end up with such a scum.”

The people was solitary, only the loss of God was out of the wits. Although everyone was shining in the sun, they felt bitterly cold, as if their bodies had fallen along with the statue, and the scene was silent, lest they would be punished by Willier God.

Then, the golden light in the ziggurat flickered, dazzling brilliance, and a woman floated out from it, like a blue cloud covering the sun, falling on the platform and walking towards Gilgamesh.

She was dressed in a light blue dress, has a graceful figure, with rippling shirts, her black hair scattered on her white shoulders, a gold armband on her right arm and a lapis lazuli bracelet on her wrist, peaceful and mild steps. She was so beautiful and radiant. Everyone felt the warm spring breeze blowing in their hearts.

Gilgamesh was confronted a formidable enemy. Because the woman’s appearance was exactly the same as the god in the ziggurat of the City-Inana that he conquered some time ago.

She walked closer with a smile, laughed like a silver bell, glance at the vine on his hand, and said " The stray lamb, you really surprise me! How to use such a common Magic Tools to kill high-level mage, so good capability! I guess he never dreamed that he would die so egg!”

Gilgamesh didn’t know what she want, without a word, he just looked at her coldly.

Then she said softly “I’m the Goddess Istar, convert to me, pray to me, deify me as the god of Will, I can fulfill all your wishes.” The tone was sacred and solemn.

“scram!”

Istar’s face was frosty, “ I kill you as easily as crushing an ant!”

“Then what are you waiting for! Come on!”

The conversation between them was blocked by Istar mana, and everyone didn’t hear.

“I have a question, since you were born, who raised you, counseled you, and who protected you, taught you, and made you king? God Willier esteemed you so much and gives you glory, how can you be without him? And you blasphemed him! Who avenged benefactor? Who was inferior to a beast?” Istar returned to the sacred and solemn tone she had just now. Although his tone was not high, it reached everyone’s ears.

The square started to be noisy.

“He betrayed his race because of his own selfish desire to become a god, and because of his own advantage, thousands of people died.” Gilgamesh said through gritted teeth.

“Well, why was the army of more than a thousand people wiped out, but only you can come back?” Istar challenged.

Someone in the square suddenly realized, as if they knew something, and immediately whispered to others.

At this time, Gilgamesh had been unable to send Divine-mind, unable to pass on the situation at that time to anyone. Even if he can, they are difficult to believe that the god they believe in is so evil.

“You shrew, a lot of nonsense, talebearing, are you Willier’s concubine….”

Before he finished speaking, Istar raised her right hand to the Gilgamesh, and a golden light burst out. Gilgamesh blocked with a side axe, and the surging mana instantly knocked him into the air. He was like a stone on a trebuchet, thrown out of the city, the scene was very embarrassing.

For a moment, everyone was stricken dumb with astonishment.

[bixshits]

Lost Odyssey - A Thousand Years of Dreams - Story Twenty-Five Transcript

Stones of Heaven

The waterfall lies deep in the forest, more than a day's travel from the nearest village.

It is said to be a holy place.

In search of the divine amid the towering peaks, pilgrims stand beneath the plunging falls in their final ascetic practise.

The water of the falls is freezing cold.

All it takes is a momentary lapse of concentration, and the person is hammered down by the rushing water.

The pilgrims call this waterfall the Stones of Heaven.

Heaven is testing their mental and physical strength, they say, by hurling an endless stream of "stones" down upon them in the form of the powerful waterfall.

"And the stones have a mysterious power," a former pilgrim says to Kaim with a pained smile. He himself failed in this final austerity, he adds.

"Different Stones of Heaven fall on each person. It's as if they can see into your heart."

"What do you mean?" Kaim asks.

"The burdens you bore and the dreams you dreamed in the secular world appear to you one after another."

In his own case, he says, what came to him first were the voices of women.

"The water plunging down into the basin of the falls began to sound like women's voices. Sweet voices whispering in my ear, voices sobbing, voices moaning in a lover's embrace... an incredible variety. And for better or worse I knew every single one of them. Some I was thrilled to hear again, while others I hated remembering."

"Meaning, you've gotten yourself into a lot of trouble involving women?"

"I have indeed. Not to boast or anything, but that was one battlefield I knew better than anybody. I survived, but I made a lot of women cry, and there were a lot of them I loved. My whole purpose in undertaking the austerities was to put that life behind me, but the Stones of Heaven know what they're doing. In the final, final test, they go after your greatest weakness. If you waver the slightest bit, you've had it. The water slams you down, and your austerities are over."

The man feeds a stick of kindling into the campfire.

"And I'm not the only one," he continues.

"One fellow heard the voice of the mother he hadn't seen since he was a little boy; another heard the voice of his dead child."

"Is it always voices?"

"I wish it were. If you hold up through the voices, the waterfall's mist starts changing into the shapes of people. You might see somebody who you hated so much in the secular world that you wanted to kill him, or it might be some loan shark you had to go into hiding to get away from.

One little flinch and you're done for."

This particular austerity can be performed only once. There are no second chances.

Someone who has persevered for a whole day and night but who fails in the end has no choice but to return to the secular world in defeat, as this man did.

"Not that it was easy for me to get on my feet again once I was back there, either."

The man chuckles and calls out to a young pilgrim. Or, more precisely, to a young man who was a pilgrim until a few moments ago, but who has just now dragged himself up to the lip of the basin in utter dejection.

"Hey, young fellow, the campfire's over here. I've got liquor to warm up your insides, and some fresh-grilled meat. Get a little of that in your stomach and you'll have the strength to make it down to the village."

The man now makes his living as master of the teahouse by the waterfall. Of course, pilgrims undergoing austerities carry no money with them, but the man is not expecting to become rich doing this work.

For bodies chilled by long hours of pounding under the waterfall, he provides a warming fire, food and drink, and sometimes even money to tide them over when they first go down to the village. Payment can be made at any time. The men can bring him the money after they have started to take in earnings again from the jobs they find in the secular world.

He sets no date for repayment. He takes no IOUs. He says he is fine with that.

"Aren't there some who don't pay at all?" Kaim asks.

"Of course there are," the man says matter-of-factly. "But I think my running this teahouse has another kind of discipline for myself."

"Another kind of discipline?"

"That's right. The Stones of Heaven will accept only the strongest pilgrims, the ones unperturbed by anything. The role I want to play is to accept the ones who were broken by the Stones of Heaven - the weak human beings. I want to go on accepting the weakest of the weak. The kind who not only succumb to the Stones of Heaven but who even fail to pay for their food and drink afterwards!"

"That is your kind of discipline?"

"Exactly. It makes for a hard living, that's for sure. I thought I was prepared to deal with cheats and weaklings, but there are a lot more of those than I ever bargained for," he declares with a hearty laugh.

But then he quickly turns serious and says, "To tell you the truth, I think of this less as a form of discipline than as a way to get even."

"Get even? With whom?"

"With those gods or whatever they are that keep hurling down their Stones of Heaven.

Human beings are weak - shockingly so, in the eyes of a God. But, I think, and this is not just because of what happened to me, that being weak is the best thing about human beings. Weakness can make us cunning, but it can also make us kind. Weakness can torment us, but it can just as easily be our salvation.

Don't you see? If the gods are hurling down their Stones of Heaven just to make people aware of their own weakness - just to make us savor our own powerlessness - then I'd just as soon drop my trousers and moon them. I'll slap my bare butt and say to them,

'I'm not like you! I'm not going to punish human beings for being weak! I accept them for what they are, weakness and all!'"

The man feeds a new piece of kindling to the fire and says with a shy shrug, "I guess I got carried away."

Kaim smiles and shakes his head as if to say, "Not at all."

"Tell me, though," the man goes on. "I see you're a traveller, but you don't seem to be a pilgrim."

"You're right, I'm not," Kaim says. "I was trying to cross over the pass and took the wrong road."

"Well then, as long as you're here, why not give the Stones of Heaven a try? It'll be something to talk about."

"No, thanks," Kaim says, smiling.

"Whats the matter? Afraid they're going to show you whatever it is that shakes you up?" The man smiles and nods. "Can't say I blame you, though."

The man is mistaken about Kaim. He is not the least bit afraid of such a thing.

What scares him is the opposite prospect. That of not being shaken up. Of encountering in himself a person unmoved by anything at all.

"Anyway, it would be suicide to jump into the waterfall without preperation."

"How's that?"

"It's freezing cold, for one thing. There's even colder water bubbling up from a spring in the basin. Even the most well-conditioned person has to be careful and take time to accustom himself to the low temperature. If you go in all at once, it can stop your heart."

The man jerks his chin in the direction of the falls as if to say, "Look at them."

Two new pilgrims are preparing themselves for the challenge of the Stones of Heaven.

The men appear to be brothers. The older one kneels at the edge of the basin, splashing himself and massaging the cold water into his skin from foot- to heart-level. The younger brother is too impatient for that. He wants to jump right under the falls. The elder brother cautions him and takes all the time he needs to accustom himself to the water's coldness.

He exudes the quiet power of one who has withstood the most rigorous training.

"Aha," the teahouse owner says to Kaim, smiling. "we're in for a rare privilege. I think we are about to see the first successful attempt in a long while."

"You can tell?" Kaim asks.

"You can if you've spent as much time here as I have. The winners and losers are decided before the men ever step under the falls."

Having completed his meticulous preparations, the elder brother enters the basin. Even then, the steps he takes are slow and cautious.

The younger brother follows him in, kicking up a spray with every step.

"The younger one is hopeless," says the man with a sigh, adding another stick of kindling to the fire.

"I'd better get the liquor ready now," he mutters to himself.

The brothers stand side by side beneath the pounding waterfall. The Stones of Heaven rain down upon them.

As the man predicted, the elder brother, utterly calm, stands up to the onslaught of images sent by the Stones of Heaven.

Also as the man predicted, the younger brother yields to the Stones of Heaven and is beaten down into the basin of the waterfall.

But then something happens that goes far beyond what the man predicted.

Writhing in agony, the younger brother bobs helplessly in the basin, unable to rise himself.

He is drowning.

He tears at his own chest. His heart is failing. He was not fully prepared to enter the icy water.

"Help me, brother, please!"

But the elder brother doesn't move. He remains under the waterfall in total concentration.

"Hey, what are you doing there? Hurry and help him!" the man yells, but the elder brother's expression remains unchanged. He never flinches.

"He's drowning! You can't just leave him like that. He'll die!"

The elder brother never moves.

He grits his teeth, keeps his eyes clamped shut, and shows no sign of moving out from under the waterfall, as if to declare, "This is it! This is the final test of the Stones of Heaven!"

The man screams at him, "You idiot!" and dives into the rolling basin in a rash effort to help the younger brother.

For the moment his untrained body hits the frigid water, the shock of it seizes his heart.

Still, he reaches out toward the drowning brother, who is sinking beneath the surface. A great shudder goes through him and with an enormous groan he takes hold of the young man's wrist and pulls his limp body toward him.

He tries to return to the shore, but his strength gives out and he falls back into the water.

Next it is Kaim's turn to dive into the basin beneath the falls. He takes hold of the two unconscious men and drags them toward the shore.

The tones of Heaven pour down on Kaim, and he is assaulted by one vision after another -

battlefields,

scenes from his wanderings,

shooting stars,

the climbing and sinking sun,

raging winds,

and countless deaths of those he has come to know on the road of his all-too-long life.

It will do you no good, he silently declares to the gods hurling the Stones of Heaven at him.

My heart remains unmoved. I have lived through a reality far crueler than any phantom you can show me.

Whether or not his life is a sign of his strength, he does not know. He will not boast of it, nor will he tell the tale to others.

He has, however, lived it; that much is certain. He has lived it through the years.

Kaim climbs onto the shore and lays the limp bodies of the teahouse master and the younger brother beside the fire.

As he warms himself, he thinks, The Gods who hurl the Stones of Heaven are inferior Gods.

If they could truly see into everything, they would never have been foolish enough to show Kaim scenes from his past. For what would disturb him most of all would be the unwelcome sight of moments from his own limitless future.

And if they were to ask him the simple question, "For what purpose were you born?" his knees would buckle in an instant.

The first to regain consciousness is the young pilgrim.

The teahouse master's condition is critical. Kaim's attempts to warm him and massage his clenched heart have little effect.

"Pull yourself together now! Look, we've got a fire here - the fire you built! Let it warm you!"

Kaim shouts into his ear until the man finally manages to force his eyes open a crack and move his purple lips.

"Is... is he... all right?"

"Sure, he's fine, don't worry."

"Oh, good... good..."

"Pull yourself together, man!"

"Tell me, though... is strength the same as coldness?"

"Never mind! Stop talking!"

"Because if it's true... if strength is coldness, I don't want any part of it..."

The man gives Kaim a faint smile and closes his eyes.

He will never open them again.

Human beings are weak and fragile.

All it takes for a person to die is for a fist-sized organ to stop beating.

Human kindness, on the other hand, may derive from everyone's profound awareness of the fragility of life.

Facing the teahouse master's lifeless corpse, the younger brother hangs his head and cries. This weak man, defeated by the Stones of Heaven, sheds heartfelt tears for the man who saved his life.

His strong elder brother, meanwhile, is still being pounded by the waterfall, unfazed by the Stones of Heaven.

Surely his strength will be recognized by the gods, and he will bring his ascetic training to perfect completion.

Still, Kaim finds the tear-stained face of the younger brother beautiful in a way the stronger elder brother's can never be, and he wishes that he himself could be moved like the younger man.

There was an unmatched nobility in the last smile of the teahouse master who gave up his life to save that of a complete stranger. Kaim wishes that he, too, could experience such feelings.

And what of my own face?

Living through a thousand years of life is not strength.

Yet, burdened with a life he cannot lose, will Kaim ever be able to change weakness into kindness?

This he cannot tell.

He can only live, unknowing.

He can only walk on.

He can only continue his journey.

Kaim looks at his reflection in the basin of the waterfall.

On the water's heaving surface, he sees the trembling face of a lonely wanderer.