Can you do more Ra/ atum in their first meeting in the beginning when they first exist they were first alone then meet the reader was born out of nowhere ( sorry if this doesn't make sense) maybe a soft smut involved if you're comfortable
YESSSSS OMG OMG OMG YESSS!!!! While I am comfortable with writing smut, I went a bit on the more wholesome and symbolic route.
Sorry for making you wait so long!
In the beginning, before time knew how to count itself, before stars dared to blink and the cosmos stretched wide into the infinite unknown, there were two.
You drifted through the void endlessly, half asleep, half awake, dreaming up the world that was to come.
You had no form, no true purpose beyond existing in the vast emptiness, longing to devour the yet-unnamed universe.
You were darkness, the end before there was even a beginning, and truly?
And then, there was Atum-Ra.
He existed without beginning or end, much like you, but where your touch brought dissolution and hunger, his brought warmth and life.
He drifted alongside you, endlessly weaving strands of glittering lights into the black tapestry you owned, scattering glimmers of something where none had existed before.
Where you were cold, he was heat.
Where you devoured, he created.
And despite the tension that hummed between your opposing selves, you found yourself irresistibly drawn to him.
At first, Atum-Ra ignored you.
He basked in his own glow, spinning galaxies from his fingertips, humming melodies of creation into the silent abyss.
You watched, lurking in the spaces between his rays, an eternal shadow to his blinding light. And yet, despite his constant movement, his endless creation, he knew you were there.
“You watch me, Am-heh,” Atum-Ra’s voice echoed through the void, at some point of the yet indescribable time. “Why do you linger in my light?”
You floated closer, your formless darkness shifting, curling.
“I hunger,” you answered, growling. “Because I am the end, and you are the beginning. We are fated to dance, are we not?”
Atum-Ra’s laughter was like the birth of stars, bright and effervescent.
“Fated? Or are you simply too stubborn to drift alone?” He moved, blazing with power that would blind lesser beings—if there were any others to behold him.
You should have been annoyed, insulted even, but instead, you were… intrigued.
“I could consume you,” you mused, extending a wispy tendril of void towards him.
It was intriguing. To watch the dark edge of your being swallow his light but never truly dim it.
“Erase you before time even learns to speak your name.” You threatened half-heartedly, grabbing his chin roughly.
“And I could burn you,” Atum-Ra countered, his skin—if you would even call it such—scorching through your dark grip. “Dissolve you into nothing but whispers on the edge of eternity.”
For a long moment, you stared at one another, your forms entwining—destruction and creation, end and beginning, devourer and life-giver.
And then, without warning, he smiled.
It was an infuriating thing, that smile.
Infuriating because it softened the harsh brilliance of their existence, because it made something inside you coil in ways you didn’t fully understand.
“Come closer, Am-heh,” Atum-Ra murmured, his voice gentle. “Or are you afraid of my touch?”
Fear was not something you knew, not truly, and not yet.
You pressed closer, darkness wrapping around him, clinging to the edges of his form.
And for the first time, you felt true hunger.
That ardent wish to devour. To consume. To snuff out that warmth and light, and deflect yourself with its honeyed taste on your tongue.
“Strange,” You nipped at his ear. “You should resist me.”
Atum-Ra exhaled quickly, his light clinging to your hungry lips.
“Maybe I don’t want to,” He admitted, his fingers tracing patterns in the void of your being. “Maybe there’s comfort in knowing the end is near, even for me.”
You stilled at his words.
You needed to utterly ruin him.
“You are reckless,” you murmured, your voice colder now, quieter than the devouring dark you’d always been. “And rather idiotic.”
“And you,” Atum-Ra whispered, resting his forehead against yours, “are not as callous as you pretend to be. Do you care, Am-heh?”
You watched Atum-Ra with an intensity that burned inside you, dark and consuming.
The way he moved through the void with effortless grace, weaving existence from nothingness, his self spilling into the vast abyss—your abyss.
At first, you had only observed him with curiosity, intrigued by his persistence, his light pressing into the edges of your darkness.
But as time stretched on—if time could even be measured in this place—you began to feel something new, something you could not yet name. It curled deep inside you, a slow, simmering thing, twisting and turning until it tightened into something sharp.
It was subtle at first, a whisper at the edges of your formless being.
Atum-Ra, with their—for now he assumed different, beautiful forms—radiant laughter and their endless creating, their maddening ability to exist so loudly.
They filled your void with light, with life, with things.
Where once there was emptiness, simplicity, and quiet hunger, now there was brilliance, beauty—distraction. You despised it.
For every moment their presence grated on you, there were others—moments when their warmth seeped too deeply, when their hands brushed against the void that was you, and you felt something stir within yourself that was neither hunger nor destruction.
Affection? No, surely not.
“You stare, Am-heh,” Atum-Ra’s voice broke through your thoughts, their gaze half-lidded, amused as they drifted closer, golden and fluid. “Do I fascinate you so?”
You recoiled, the edges of your form curling inward defensively.
“I despise you,” you whispered, voice thick with venom, though it lacked the weight you wished it had.
That smile—the one that chipped away at the carefully constructed edges of your being, the one that infuriated you more than anything in creation. It was soft, too knowing, too fond.
“I don’t believe you,” they said, their fingers tracing idly through the formless edge of your darkness.
Where their light met you, it didn’t burn as it should.
Instead, it lingered, warm and persistent.
“If you truly despised me, you wouldn’t let me touch you so freely.”
You tensed, the void around you stirring like a restless tide, shadows flickering and twisting in protest.
“I allow it because you are insufferable,” you hissed, your voice a low rumble. “Because no matter how much I push, you refuse to leave.”
Atum-Ra chuckled. “I could leave,” they mused, tilting their head. “Would you truly want that?”
Something coiled in your gut.
You had spent eons existing in solitude, content to drift in the endless void, devouring whatever dared to take form in your presence.
And their absence, you realized with a sinking sensation, would leave an ache you were unwilling to acknowledge.
You hated them for it. For making you feel.
“Your presence is… tolerated,” you said carefully, your voice strained. “For now.”
Atum-Ra grinned, their fingers tracing gentle patterns along the edges of your form.
“I’ll take that as a victory,” they said lightly, but beneath their teasing tone was something more—something softer, something tender.
And that made your hatred burn all the brighter.
Hatred, yes. But there was something else too.
Something you didn’t have a name for, something that felt too much like longing, like need.
Atum-Ra drifted closer, pressing their forehead against yours, their warmth invading the deepest parts of you.
“You can despise me all you want, my shadow,” they whispered, their voice an intimate thing that settled in your chest like an ember. “But I think, deep down, you want me here.”
You said nothing, letting the void swell around you in silent denial. But your silence spoke louder than words.
And Atum-Ra… they only smiled, satisfied.
No matter how much you brooded in the corners of the void, they remained, lingering on the edges of your darkness, shining just bright enough to remind you they were still there.
Their presence was an irritation, an infuriating tick at the back of your endless mind.
But at the same time… it fascinated you.
You found yourself watching them more often than you’d like to admit.
The way they wove light into existence with a flick of their hand, drawing shapes and possibilities from the nothingness you had once ruled alone.
It should have disgusted you, this endless creation, this relentless need to fill the void.
“You seem captivated,” Atum-Ra teased one day, their voice golden and rich, curling around you like silk.
They hovered nearby, their glow dimmed just enough to let your darkness reach toward them, close but not quite touching.
“I thought you despised me.”
“I do,” you replied too quickly, your voice lacking its usual venom.
Your darkness swirled around you, restless, but it no longer recoiled from their presence as it once had.
“I simply don’t understand you. You create things with such… abandon. What if they are not worthy? What if they falter, fail?”
Atum-Ra smiled softly, their gaze filled with something ancient and knowing. “And what if they thrive?”
You had no answer to that.
It started small. Atum-Ra would reach out, brushing their fingers through the edges of your darkness as if testing the waters. You let them, begrudgingly, and in return, you found yourself drifting closer to their warmth, your void curling around their light like a shadow learning to dance.
Then came their offerings.
Golden orbs of light, tiny suns they crafted and left in your path, each one pulsing with warmth, life, and the faintest echo of their laughter.
At first, you devoured them out of spite, swallowing the light whole just to watch it vanish into your emptiness.
But then, slowly, you started to keep them.
“You’re hoarding them,” Atum-Ra remarked another moment in time, watching you with quiet amusement as you let one of their suns orbit you lazily.
“I am observing them,” you corrected, though even you could not deny the strange sense of satisfaction their presence gave you.
And so it went. Atum-Ra, in their endless persistence, continued their courtship—offering light, warmth, and the kind of devotion that felt both overwhelming and intoxicating.
And you, despite yourself, began to respond.
You started creating, in your own way.
Not suns, not warmth, but structure. Where Atum-Ra scattered brilliance, you shaped it.
You gathered their light and molded it into stars, crafting constellations that hung like silent jewels across the void.
Atum-Ra watched with unhidden delight, their hands reaching to steady yours, their laughter echoing through the cosmos as you worked together—creating balance where before there had been only chaos.
And then, without even meaning to, you both created something… more.
It happened once, when Atum-Ra pressed into you.
Light twined with darkness, and all of a sudden, something dragged you towards them.
“What did you do?” You demanded quietly.
“Nothing.” Atum-Ra grinned, pressing their lips to the shell of your ear. “Would you like me to have done something?”
Their hand slid into yours, spreading your fingers and lacing them together.
And they did it again, not awaiting any plea, for they knew how you despised to do so.
A coil of something went taut deep within you, suddenly pushing air out of your lungs. You had not been aware you had any lungs to begin with, let alone a breath to lose.
And it felt odd. Good but… strained in a way that had you aching.
You whirled around, heart pumping like mad.
“What?” asked Atum-Ra, suddenly concerned. “Did I do something wrong? Does it-“
“Feel,” you demanded, slamming the palm of their hand to your chest.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Feel!” you demanded again, bringing your lips closer, this odd thing fanning between you.
Atum-Ra paused, barely processing the tingling sensation brushing their cheek. You brought your hand to their lips, yet none of that warm delight escaped them.
“What am I supposed to feel, exactly, my shade?” They asked.
“You stole something of mine. I don’t know how to explain it.”
It came out of your lungs in thin, beautiful whispers. It felt cool, nice and fresh, leaving you aching for more and more and more.
“How does it feel, then?”
Atum-Ra, for the first time since their creation, looked perplexed.
“Good,” you huffed, suddenly able to so.
Atum-Ra’s eyes followed your lips, awestruck.
“That thing. How did you do that?” They murmured, amazed. “Do it again!”
You gave a huff, and Atum-Ra gaped.
“Teach me. Teach me, please?”
Yet you mused, shadowy tendrils bringing them closer. This malady… this affliction they’d brought upon you. How could you show them? How could you possibly make them know?
You brought them closer, and even closer, before connecting your lips gently and sucking. Atum-Ra jolted as if struck, and their breaths came loose, undone in frantic bouts.
They had barely pulled away, feeling the thrill of the first ever kiss the world had conjured, before slamming their lips to yours.
And again, until your lips turned purple and swollen, and your laughter escaping you in giddy, breathless spurts.
Sometime amidst those kisses, your hips found theirs, straddling to keep them closer. Ecstasy and need ripped through you, and you found yourselves unable to tear away.
In that moment, you awkwardly felt around each other, discovering and naming and molding each other’s bodies to fit.
Atum-Ra was perfect. The shape of their lips, the curve of their nose and beautiful eyes. They were so full of life, life you craved so endlessly.
You’d made them for yourself. This beautiful, mesmerizing piece of art. For you to hoard and keep and want.
In turn, Ra molded you for themselves. Painted those pretty eyes, carved those pretty lips and thumbed the shape of your nose. Perfect in their eyes, no matter what.
Your hands slid down, grasping at their hips, claiming, coaxing, commanding—greedy for every new inch of them, of this body newly given shape. Flesh still humming with the echo of your will.
Atum-Ra kissed you again—gentle at first. Unsure. Curious.
Drawn by the gravity of your breath, by the way you sighed like it was the first wind to ever exist.
Their lips touched your mouth.
Then lower—your jaw, your throat.
But they were hesitant. Tasting and tracing. Wary to indulge in these foreign sensations.
You gasped—but not from surprise.
No, you breathed it into being. The sound of it—the intake, the release—was new. The first gasp. The first inhale made not of dust or light, but want.
Your grip tightened, pulling them flush to you.
“Like this,” you whispered, voice thick and slow, as though shaping creation from within your lungs.
You tilted your head and offered—the curve of your neck, the shiver beneath your skin.
A nip that made your skin spark with something entirely new.
And then a second, playful but hungry.
You moaned—low and indulgent.
Atum-Ra faltered. Stilled.
Their eyes were wide, shining with awe, caught somewhere between need and revelation.
“What is that?” they whispered. “That…sound you made.”
You smiled, dark and indulgent.
“Desire,” you said, dragging your lips along theirs. “I made it just now. Do you want it?”
They nodded—barely able to speak.
You leaned in, parted your lips, and breathed into them.
Not air—no. This was deeper.
A breath made of starlight and moan, of gravity and lust. Of you.
You kissed them again, slow and claiming, and this time, it was you who took.
You pressed them back, overwhelmed their senses with tongue and heat and sound, crafting pleasure stroke by stroke, molding their body to your rhythm like clay over flame.
Laughed, and it was light—chaotic and shimmering, and alive.
“I think,” they said breathlessly, “you’ve infected me.”
You grinned against their throat, dragging your teeth along their skin until they squirmed—shoulders twitching, hips hitching toward you, unbidden.
“There,” you murmured, lips brushing the space just below their ear. “You liked that.”
Atum-Ra made a sound—a strangled, breathy thing that lived somewhere between a gasp and a plea.
You licked the spot slowly, tasting the way their skin had just learned to respond, then sucked, harder this time. Their back arched.
“Do it again,” they whispered, voice gone thin with wonder. “Please. Whatever that was.”
You would always oblige when they asked—not begged. You wouldn’t take that from them.
Your mouth traced a new path: under their jaw, across the pulse fluttering against your lips, then lower, lower. You learned them like a map, like a secret meant only for your tongue and your hunger. And as your fingers splayed across their ribs, your other hand gripped behind their thigh, anchoring them.
Their body moved so easily beneath you, like it had been carved to slot into your palms, to answer your hunger with gasps and fevered moans. But they weren’t still. No—Atum-Ra was learning, too.
Their hands slid across your back, bold now. Testing. Exploring. Their fingers dragged down your spine, slow and deliberate, and you gasped this time—a low, guttural sound.
“Oh,” they said, delighted. “There you are.”
You growled against their throat, and they laughed again, more confident now, intoxicated with discovery. “Does the Devourer like to be touched here?” they teased, pressing again, right along the dip of your back.
You bit their collarbone in reply. Not to hurt—just enough to make them jolt, sharp and bright and startled.
Atum-Ra clutched at you, body writhing beneath your weight, mouth parting in a broken moan. “What—what was that—?”
You grinned into their skin. “You feel that in your stomach?” you asked, dragging your fingers over the ridge of their hipbone. “That ache curling tighter? That heat sliding down your spine?”
They nodded breathlessly, unable to speak.
“That’s mine,” you whispered, tongue sweeping over the mark you’d left. “I made that.”
You watched their eyes flutter shut, their lips red and glistening, parted around shallow, shuddering breaths.
But then they surged forward—flipping the moment like a storm.
Their mouth crashed into yours with a new kind of hunger. Not innocent now. Not curious. Greedy. Matching you stroke for stroke, they tasted your bottom lip, then sucked it into their mouth, tongue dragging over it like a promise.
It was your turn to gasp—to gasp—as their hips rolled into yours, slow and deliberate, sending a bolt of pleasure that made your vision go white.
“I can make things too,” they whispered, voice low, almost dark. “You gave me this body… but now I want to learn how to use it.”
Their hands were clumsy but eager, sliding over your chest, your sides, and lower—fingertips painting sensation with no blueprint but instinct. They watched you the way an artist watches marble, waiting for it to crack, to yield, to show the shape buried beneath.
When their mouth found that place just below your ribs—when they kissed it, then bit, just a little—you gasped, and they smiled. Triumphant.
You dragged them back up by the jaw, crushed your mouth to theirs, kissed like you were starving, like you were building fire inside both your chests just to burn it down again.
Bodies slid together, slick with heat, breath tangling like silk ribbons caught on thorns. You rolled your hips into theirs and they into yours—over and over—chasing that spiraling tension, hands everywhere, mouths feverish.
They did something—ground their thigh just so, fingers curling at the base of your spine—and your breath vanished.
You saw it: white, pure and endless. A flash behind your eyes like lightning that knew your name. You cried out—sharp and guttural, shocked by the power they’d pulled from you.
“There,” they said, voice raw and reverent. “That. That’s what I want. Again.”
You could only pant, wide-eyed. For once, you were the one undone. Your limbs trembled, your chest heaved—and you grinned, teeth sharp with approval.
“Clever little thing,” you murmured. “You’re learning.”
And they did not flinch. Did not back down.
They leaned in, kissed the edge of your mouth like a question and a claim all at once.
“I want to learn everything you ache for,” they whispered. “And then I want to teach you what I burn for.”
And in that tangle of limbs and heat and breath, you began the first act of worship.
Not of gods, but of each other.
Of the divine ache that came with being alive for the very first time.
Kept pressing closer, closer still—each kiss, each shift of skin against skin not just pleasure but creation. Their limbs tangled with yours, your forms molding together in fits and starts, like clay too warm to hold its shape. You groaned as Atum-Ra slid their hands along your torso, sketching their curiosity into you, fingertips flickering with gold.
Lines of heat spiraled where they touched—light drawn into you, glowing trails that danced over your ribs, your hips, your throat.
“What are you doing?” you whispered, voice hoarse, struck open by want.
“I don’t know,” they breathed. “But it feels… right.”
Their fingers moved with intention now—painting radiant curls and glyphs, the language of some new sensation neither of you had words for yet. And wherever they touched, your skin hummed with light. It didn’t burn—it sang.
Your shadows responded, uncoiling like breath from your spine—slow, living tendrils that slid from your back and shoulders and thighs, curling around Atum-Ra like serpents. Gentle, exploring, wrapping them up in strands of dusk and sighs.
Atum-Ra gasped, hips jerking forward into yours, breath catching in that stunned, delicious way they always had when they felt something new. Your tendrils pulsed around them, tight and soft, shivering against their light.
“Again,” they rasped. “Touch me again like that.”
Your shadows curled under their knees, drew slow patterns against the small of their back, dragged along the backs of their thighs—and Atum-Ra arched, whole body trembling, eyes wide and flooded with starlight.
Their hands gripped your face again—desperate, grounding—lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your mouth, as if to say more with every collision.
You moved together like storm and tide, shadow and flare, heat and hunger—unfolding, colliding, reshaping the very space between you. You kissed, and with it came the concept of time. You held each other, and with it came the concept of gravity, crafted only for this very purpose. Another spiral drawn on your chest, and with it came the golden rule.
Another slam of your hips—
The cosmos trembled, and from your touch, the world was born.
You stared at it, this fragile, spinning thing suspended between you both, and for once, you felt something unfamiliar stir within you.
Not hunger. Not destruction. Something… close to wonder.
Atum-Ra looked at you, their eyes filled with a quiet reverence as their fingers drew swirls of light on your arm.
“We made this,” they whispered, their fingers still laced with yours. “Together.”
You didn’t pull away. Instead, you allowed your fingers to remain entwined, your darkness curling around their light in something that felt dangerously close to unity.
“It’s imperfect,” you murmured, studying the world, the swirling seas and restless winds. “It will fall apart.”
“Perhaps,” Atum-Ra replied, their lips curling into a smile. “But we’ll build it again. And again. As many times as it takes.”
You exhaled, something inside you easing in a way you didn’t understand. “You’re relentless,” you muttered, but there was no bite to your words.
“And you’re learning to indulge me,” Atum-Ra countered, pressing a soft kiss against the edge of your darkness, their touch warm and unwavering.
