#demon!thor

Your village had never known anything like it, and they were scared. You could understand that, even if you would never forgive it.

A winter so long and cold that it had seemed like it would never end. Frost and ice, but no snow. Death had claimed more than just the young or the elderly, the land had suffered too. Spring had taken too long to throw off the shackles that winter had chained the land with, and too little rain coupled with the far too cool temperatures meant that the crops were not growing as they should - if, indeed, they were growing at all. Your village prayed, they hoped, and they pleaded, hoping that a moderate summer with at least one heavy downpour would at least yield enough growth to see them through the next winter.

Instead, the world became a furnace,

Overnight it seemed, the weather became too hot, far too hot. What little crops had grown immediately died under the onslaught of the baking sun. The lambs and calves and piglets that had been born and were being carefully raised for their meat all perished under the unforgiving sun and lack of fresh water. Yet more members of your village perished under the extreme conditions, and soon there was a desperate cry for the leaders to do something.

But what could they do? The men could not control the weather.

There was talk of sending riders to the nearest kingdom and petitioning for aid, but that city resided over ten days' ride away, your whole village would succumb to the heat if they were to wait for that long. The elders said the village should wait, a storm was sure to come, they always did, and it would please the gods if the faith in their mercy never waivered. There were practical orders to attempt to dig wells nearer to the river, there were some less than desirable requests to sell the younger and breedable unmarried women to the next village over in exchange for their crops and cattle.

On and on the arguments raged, until finally one voice rose from the back, silky smooth and like ice, but if ice was warm…

“The problem lies with the earth. Men cannot help, and the Gods are too high above to care.”

Everyone turned to look at the man, even though all already knew him. The man in the cloak. He had arrived in the winter, almost dead, and had been taken in. He was quiet for the most part, had attempted to help in the fields and he had a calming effect on the horses, but had otherwise stayed out of the village affairs. Until now, it seemed.

“What nonsense is this?” That was the man with the largest farm, and therefore the wealthiest of your village. He was also your father, but that was something you would be glad to remedy if the opportunity arose.

“The earth is where the problems lie, ergo, the earth is where the solutions lie.” The man with the cloak murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but everyone listened. Even your father. “Call upon the earth, offer up life to what comes, and reap the rewards. You reap what you sow, after all.” His green eyes glittered, landing directly on you for a second that felt like a lifetime, “He shall reap what you have sowed.”

“Speak plainly, man, I do not truck with riddles!”

“Very well.” The man with the cloak seemed to drop his mysterious act for a moment, turning his attention to your father with a sneer, “It is not Gods who you need to pray to, it is to the Old Ones who dwell below, and they do not wish for prayers. They desire sacrifice.”

A murmur arose across the square, growing in intensity until you could hear it as clear as day; the village was laughing at the man.

“Ludicrous!”

“Ridiculous!”

“Sacrilege!”

“We have not believed in the Old Ones since the days of everlasting night.” Your father waved his hand in dismissal, “They either do not exist, or they died out, and let us hear the end of this. Now, I think we should consider…”

Your fathers voice droned on, the sun set slowly behind the forests that surrounded your little village, and still, the man with the cloak stared at you, a cheshire grin on his handsome face.

The following morning you woke to the sounds of screams, of cries, of the sound of pure heartbreak.

The earth was no longer just scorched, it was ablaze.

The long grass in the cornfields danced in the flames that consumed them, the roar of the fire loud enough that you almost couldn’t hear your fathers keening wail, 

“I relent, I relent, please allow us an end to this torment!”

“Do you agree now, foolish man? Do you agree that you must sacrifice one to save the many?” The man with the cloak leant over your father, a leer on his face that made your stomach turn, “You know the old ways. Pick a maiden, the fairest here, and all your land will be ripe with life by the morrow.”

“P-pick? H-how-”

The villagers heard this, and they descended on you. You could hear them, how they had disliked your father almost as much as you, and how this would be a suitable punishment for him, to lose his child as they had lost their homes to the slowly spreading blaze.

You could understand their anger and fear, though you could never forgive it, but at least you could say your father never wanted this, even if he was helpless to stop it.

There was a place in the forest, it had always felt ominous to you, there were old legends that surrounded the tall tree that sat in the middle of the clearing. The legends spoke of how the Old Ones would crawl from in between the spaces in the bark of the trunk, how they would grow from smoke into something twice as tall as the largest man, how they would surround the maid bound to the tree, and how they would devour her. How the Old Ones would take her life, and give it back to the soil. This was how your ancestors learned to live off the land they grew on.

Take one life, for the many to live.

You stare up at the tree as your village drags you towards it. So tall you cannot see the top. So tall that the canopy was too high for the children to climb up and play on, and too tall for the elders to use their ladders to reach the fruits that dangled but never fell. The trunk was wide, wider than five men, and the roots curled upwards from the soil, like the tentacles of the fearsome sea beast you saw in the picture books. The tree towers over you, over the whole village, it looms like a sentient being come to pass judgement and it will surely find you wanting…

“Father… please…” The tears come then, slow at first, the first touch of rope to your wrists like a trigger, and then they flow faster when your arms are pulled to the sides, stretched around the front of the trunk. Your cheek is pressed harshly to the bark, the ropes bind you so tightly that you can no longer move without pain flashing through your shoulders, your wrists, or the scent of blood to grow from the skin of your cheek, “Why am I the one to be sacrificed? You could stop them, father…”

His face swims into view, just barely noticeable in your peripheral vision, you fancy you see tears swim in his eyes, but you know it to be a falsehood you cling to. This man has given you up, he has no remorse in him.

“I cannot stop this. Please forgive me, my daughter… this is the only way.” The wind picks up, and you cry, you beg, you fight against your bonds, the noise of the villagers, the howl of the wind, the roar of the fire, it all rises and rises and rises-

BOOM

A clap of thunder so loud rings across the clearing, you can feel it shake the roots of the tree you’re bound to. The noise dies, as instantly as it rose, the wind growing, rushing through the surrounding forest like whispers through the town square-

“Rain!”

You can hear it then, what at first is a gentle patter of raindrops against sun scorched earth, which turns to a deluge within a few seconds. Part of you is overjoyed, you’d always loved the rain and storms, but the other part of you is still trying to escape. Surely now the gods had granted the wish for the townspeople they would let you go?

“There is no escape now, little villager.” The man with the cloak whispers into your ear, “He is coming, and He is hungry.” You try to turn your head to say something, but the man is gone, and then you notice the crowd has gone quiet. This silence is deafening. Terrifying. All too soon you realise why.

Smoke the colour of the deep red berries that grow outside your door oozes from between the spaces in the bark. So much comes forth that soon you can’t see anyone or anything, the scent of it reminding you of split fruit and fresh blood. You thrash again, tears falling so fast you could choke on them-

BOOM

The second clap of thunder brings all your fighting to a halt.

You can feel heat at your back. Breath at your neck. Hands at your hips.

“Well… How pleasing.” The voice is deeper than the loudest rumble of thunder, with more power than the lightning that precedes it, you can feel it through your whole body, bringing an ache that alarms you as much as it attempts to soothe you, “Who made this offering?”

“I-I did… my lord…” you can hear your fathers measly voice from behind you, and if fear didn’t hold you more captive than the ropes that bound you, you would be screaming bloody murder at him for the betrayal, “Please… take my daughter, dark lord, take what you will and let my village reap the rewards.” At this, you can hear what sounds suspiciously like a laugh rumble from the demon behind you, 

“Reap what you sow… hmmm… I sow what you reap… yes, I accept your bargain.” There is a sound like when a log cracks in the fire, and then screams, so many screams, and you join in, you can’t help it, you can’t see, can’t move, all you can hear are those terrified bleats of the villagers, and all you can smell is the scent of blood and roasted flesh-

“Run! Run back to your homes lest I cull every last one of you!” The demon bellows, laughter in his voice, “Remember this moment! Reap your rewards and know the cost of bargaining with a demon of Old!”

You think you see the glint of the man with the cloak’s smile, but then it is gone amongst the smoke weaving its way slowly through the trees that surround the clearing.

You’re alone with the demon. You feel his breath again, the heat from his body, the touch of enormous hands to the skin of your neck…

“Yes… very pleasing….”

“Please don’t eat me…” The plea is whispered, your beg for mercy done so quietly so you do not anger the faceless beast at your back, “I did not ask for this…” You flinch when he moves directly behind you, when you can feel him kneel at your back. The immense heat of him surrounds you, there is no change and you know he is a lot taller than even the man from the village who you would mockingly call Giant.

“Eat you, sweet one? Why… of course I will. I will eat you, devour you, savour you as one would savour the sweetest fruits from the furthest lands.” He laughs when you start to cry, “Think of it, sweet one, your village will be safe, they will prosper now, and all it will take is to allow me to slake my hunger with you.”

You’re shaking your head, skin scraping against the bark but you do not feel the sting, you’re solely concentrating on the sensation of the demon's hands as they slide the material of your dress slowly up your legs, exposing the undergarments you wear. Your breath comes in pants, confusion warring with fear, 

“You would only eat me if I were naked? Please, do not linger on this, if I am to die, I wish for it to be quick!” You wail when his hands are removed and your dress falls back to your ankles, “No, please! Please finish this quickly- ah!” Your bonds are snapped, as easily as you can snap a dry twig in half, and you’re spun around to face the monster called upon to sow your death so your village could reap the rewards.

You close your eyes, you do not want to see what hell has spat out to kill you. Shakes overtake your body when you feel both your wrists pulled into one large hand, so big it encloses both of your hands in one with no effort. You can feel the strength in that grip, know it is pointless to fight, and stay as still as possible as your arms are now lifted over your head, wincing at the slight pain in your shoulders.

“Die? Now why would you think that, sweet one?” His voice is surprisingly gentle, and you chance a glance at his face, unable to stop the gasp of shock that leaves your lips when you see him.

The demon is terrifying, he towers over you even as he is crouching on his haunches. Large black horns sprout from his hairline, his eyes are a pure shade of blue you’ve never seen before, and slitted like the feral cats that roam the fields. His hair is as golden as the corn that had been burning, and hangs down past his shoulders in gilded loose waves interspaced with intricate braids which then also are braided into the darker hair that covers his cheeks and around his mouth.

He would be easily over eight feet tall when he stands, he’s broad, and built for power and strength. The shakes start again, your teeth chattering as you finally catch his alien gaze, and you find yourself unable to look away.

“Devour… eat… I wish to feast on what is between your legs, sweet one. If I can make you ripe with nectar, then I will also fill your pretty cunt with my seed. This is what will make the land grow, not your blood.”

“B-but-” your words stutter to a halt when one clawed hand reaches to the front of your dress, thick fingers ending in wicked talons that make a frightened sweat break out along your spine, “Please, God….”

“Call me Thor.” His patience apparently wears thin then, he huffs out a breath, and then tears at your dress, leaving it to flutter to the forest floor, leaving you only on your undergarments. Thor takes his time drawing them down your legs, his slitted eyes fixed on the juncture between your thighs, “Beautiful, as I imagined. Look at me, sweet one.”

You do, tears still falling, the ache still building, but you look at him, fear morphing into lust at the look in his eyes.

“When I let your arms free, hold onto my horns, do not let go, the fall would wound you.”

“The fall? Oh!” The shriek of shock leaves your mouth before you can stop it, Thor has risen to his full height and taken you with him, his hands encircle your thighs easily, and you realise that he is taller than you had thought, much taller. You grab a hold of the black horns that rise from his head, they’re warm to the touch but you don’t let go, not when he lifts you higher, higher…

He stops when you’re over his head, and your own is level with the leaves in the tree that you had been bound to. That doesn't scare you though, what does is the fact that your naked cunt is directly over the demon's mouth, his head tilted back as if to take a long drink, your thighs spread wide and held in place over his face. His eerie blue eyes glitter up at you, and he licks his lips, and then he begins lapping at you. Your eyelids flutter close at the sensation, the fear and the pleasure morphing and swirling into something so pleasurable it was almost unbearable-

Thor slowly pushed his tongue inside you, much longer than a mans, until you almost felt it in your belly, in and out, in and out and, on a trembling cry to the still weeping heavens, you come, shaking and pleading for him to let you go now. His rumble of laughter send yet more shock waves of pleasure through you, vibrating from his tongue, teasing your sensitive inner walls, and you groan as he pulls himself back out on a smacking of his lips, 

“It will be a long time yet before your body is sated enough to take me inside without death,” Thor lowered you so you were face to face, his fangs glinting in the moonlight and eyes flashing like the cats do in the dark. You look down between you, and your weeping starts anew when you see his monstrous erection standing out from between his legs - legs that made you fight against his hold in horror as he turned you around to face the tree, as he tipped you forwards to lay face down across his left palm and his right hand held around your waist, bringing your core back to his mouth so his assault started anew.

Thor’s legs were like bulls, long, hairy, and ending with hooves. A demon, with a man’s appetite, eating away at you until all you were lay across the land, feeding your village.

The sun was rising when Thor decided you were ready to take his cock, and still it took yet more hours for him to work his way inside. You were half delirious from pleasure, boneless from exhaustion, as limp as any lettuce leaf in his hands as he manoeuvred you into position yet again. Thor had started by rubbing his cock against your drenched lower lips until he decided he was slick enough to start to enter you as several more orgasms were pulled from your lax body. When he started to push inside, you passed out, too much pleasure, too much pain, too much everything.

When you wake, the sky is dark again, and the demon is still fucking you. You can feel his seed dripping out of you, smell it across your skin, feel it coating your hair and taste it in your mouth. There’s no energy in you to cry out any more, just the all encompassing presence of Thor as he grunts against you, one hand on your shoulder, pushing you back against him, and the other holding your thigh open so he can thrust deep.

The man with the cloak smiles above you both, and you croak out something like a whine. Thor doesn’t stop, his fangs graze your neck as he leans over you, 

“You should thank my brother, sweet one, he chose you for me, now you’ll be my bride.”

“Your lands are fertile again, little mortal.” The man with the cloak grins, pointing at what looks like roasted meat left on the earth ten feet away from you, “Death leads to life.”

“Life will reside inside you soon.” Thor roars, lightning claps and thunder booms, and you feel him finally grow soft inside you, “Loki, thank you for the gift.”