The desert is cold at night. The West Bank of the Nile deadly silent, with a sand gripping your lifeless body. But you shall not fear death, as your mother would say. You shall not, because he will come and guide you to the afterlife. Anubis, God of the Dead, Lord of the Duat, Protector of the Desert, Jackal-Headed Lord, your – oh.
content/warnings: ancient Egypt AU, Egyptian gods, Anubis!Geto Suguru x F!Reader, he's a God OMG, oral (fem rec.), fingering, spitting, heavy breeding kink, Suguru is massive, tummy bluges, mating press, manhandling, happy ending, swearing, reader is in the afterlife lol.
a/n: I'm a history girlie, so ofc I have a crush on Anubis since I saw him in an elementary school textbook. Also, Ennead may or may not be my favourite manhwa.
divider by @saradika-graphics
art by Lemon Emlyn (@lemon_emlyn) on X
Nights in Egypt came in two ways.
The East Bank of the Nile bathed in lights, quietly dimmed by the heavy darkness. The river breathed its last time, cities slowly going quiet, with the last whispers creeping up the streets. The sun rose in the East – it gave life to its people and bestowed the Godly presence. The East was a vitality, essence in itself, where life bloomed under the warmth of the sun, and prayers were listened to in the corners of the stone temples.
The West Bank of the Nile was the land of Osiris. That's where the sun set, with merciless and cold nights haunting the adventurers. The West came only with the smell of death and a journey to the underworld. When the sun set over the horizon, a vast field of unknown power was quiet under the stars. Dangerously so, grains of sand racing one another, sinking under heavy bodies of daredevils who stepped on a cursed path. There were no city walls there, only the low howling of jackals and growling wind grazing cold tombstones.
Egyptians believed in Godly presence.
The East Bank basked in life-giving force and blessed sun, the birthed children and flowing water, fertile land and boundless love. The Gods endowed their land and its people with the sun and life.
On the West Bank, cold wind followed buried bodies and heavy steps of jackals. The Gods were there – hidden under the grave sand, welcoming the realm of the dead and blessing the buried.
For Egyptians, the desert meant death.
Its merciless hands never tying anything down. The bodies barely buried before being taken away by animals under the cruel stare of the moon. Jackals could open the grave just with their paws, sinking teeth into the body on its journey to the underworld.
The Egyptians feared them.
Their yellow eyes dangerously set on the dead, claws scratching the heavy surface of sand. Jackals were masters of the night, when eerie quietness haunted the high mountains of sand and vast land going way farther than one could ever imagine.
So, they decided to turn their fear into a blessing, the Godly presence which would protect their buried bodies and guide them to the underworld. To tame fear meant turning it into a God, and pray to that God not in dread but in fortune, to guide the desert and edge of life. As the first presence welcoming you in the afterlife and weighing your life on a scale, allowing you a journey to the land of the dead.
Your journey started a few minutes ago, with cold sand hugging your exhausted body and the immense power of the desert slowly taking you away.
The moon was hanging high and low howling of jackals was somewhere there. Above the dancing wind and massive hills, where your eyes couldn't reach, already too tired to keep your eyelids open.
You remembered your mother's stories of God meeting you after death, of his yellow eyes and jackal's head, which you shouldn't fear, child. For when the time comes, he will be your guide into the underworld, where Mother Desert will embrace your body again and bury you with your people. As he protects the desert and the ones long passed, as the fair judge of the afterlife, whose kindness and power are inestimable.
You wondered whether your mother passed the test of weighing heart. You wondered whether you would pass it, with a soul burdened by the life in poverty and dreadfulness, the horrible deeds you needed to do just to keep your siblings safe.
And you never meant to get lost in the West Bank of the Nile, where no man in his right mind would wander under the heavy stare of the night and desert welcoming you with eeriness, its claws so sharp you could feel your body slowly being covered by its cold hands.
Lying on your back, with a foggy head and barely opened eyes, you heard the heavy footsteps. Paws, running your way and loose tongues drooling at the sight of your lifeless body.
The smell of death floated in the air, so pungent you wondered whether it was your sinful heart, just waiting to be taken on a scale.
The jackals were fast, and you could see them before the moon bestowed you last glance, and the ethereal coldness of the desert slipped between your fingers, almost inviting you on a new journey in the unknown.
And the darkness came together with heavy paws.
There was someone else walking behind the envoys of death. Decisive footsteps, but almost too light to hear, and low howling of jackals accompanying the stranger.
Wet noses touched your buried body – left sinfully, desecrated under the open sky, blameless in the eyes of the God of Death. The heaviness left your soul, eyes once again opening lightly towards the endless bounds of the night, but a body still too heavy to even move.
You managed to turn your head to the side, seeing the yellow eyes staring at your soul. The lulled tongues and bared teeth, spit disappearing in the sand.
Jackals weren't big, but they always travelled in a pack, and the feeling of their footsteps circling your lifeless body was enough to make your eyes close tightly.
You weren't sure what state you currently remained in – the world closed on you just a minute before, but now, the night desert sky welcomed your soul back, coldness not as unbearable as it was, sand feeling almost pleasant under your skin.
The moment you breathed, however, there was no visible puff of a small cloud floating around you as it used to.
There seemed to be no heartbeat either, just a heavy organ sitting quietly under your skin.
You felt a wet tongue on your cheek and another jakal sniffing your legs.
It was a whole herd, the wolf-like animals circling you with a peaked curiosity, as if just waiting for the order to devour your body.
But this order never came, just a quiet, almost inaudible whisper.
"Shhh, don't bother her."
And then you noticed a figure, far in the dunes. Looking almost unreal, like an oasis for a dying man, a feeling you wanted to cling to, without knowing what it was you yearned for.
When the figure came closer, you saw his long legs and muscular body. Hips, tightly wrapped in yellow–black robes, with a gold chain hanging loosely above his pelvis. His chest was bare, with only a heavy, gold necklace and a droplet-shaped Ankh spread on his chest, moving slightly with his every step. His fingers clenched around a long Was Scepter, slightly curled at the end. A heavy mask rested on his head, of a black jackal with pointed ears and yellow eyes, covering his face and ears, grazing his shoulder lightly. And long hair was black as the sky, with its ends just above the hips, scattered slightly by the West wind, howling with death and fear.
The man came closer, Jackal's head looking over your body, though you couldn't see his gaze. With a long Was Scapter, he chased away the wolf-like creatures, who ran away towards the boundless borders of the desert.
And then he extended his hand towards you, with gold bracelets rattling quietly as they moved.
"Come on," he whispered, with a voice warmly colling your mind. "It's time to go."
It was difficult to move a moment ago, but now, after his command, your body moved as if by itself, with your palm slowly grasping his.
When you stood, the world moved around you, but his hand never left yours, squeezing it tightly.
You could look at him closer, just now seeing how massive he was, with muscles bulging under his sun-kissed skin and a thin, gold chain spread on his chest. To meet the gaze of his Jackal's head, you needed to throw head up, till your neck went stiff, looking at the man twice taller than you. His God-deserved body turning slowly towards the unknown, directing you by the hand through the desert.
Sand pleasantly sank under your feet when you followed his heavy footsteps, and Was Scapter pushed into it with his every step.
And so you walked in a quiet, with stars following your long path to the unknown, shimmering lustrously as if whispering about your fate and his warm fingers wrapped strongly around yours. It felt so intimate, yet normal, almost like his touch lingered before on your skin, long forgotten in a dusty corner of your memory.
Raven hair flowed down his muscular back, swaying with his every step. You wished to see his face, but no God was showing their full appearance to the dead, acting only as their guides and protectors.
You wanted to ask questions, but it felt so out of place, with the silence between you two almost pleasant in its heaviness. You could enjoy this moment just for a while, before he puts you through a final trial of weighing your heart on a scale. You were the most afraid of this process, almost sure that all your doings would be heavier than a feather.
And what happens when your heart outweighs the feather?
What happens when you can no longer enter paradise?
What happens when your soul gets devoured by the monsters and stops its existence?
You looked back, but your body was long left behind, hidden somewhere in the desert's cradling arms.
"Don't worry, I will be sure to prepare it for burial," you heard a whisper, low tone disappearing somewhere between the gusts of wind.
He said it, as if reading your mind.
"My God, my family wouldn't be able to mummify it, they..."
He clearly tensed at the way you addressed him.
"I know," he stopped your explanation. "I'll be the one responsible for it."
And the only thing you could say, through your tightened throat, was a weak:
Jackal's head moved slightly, as if wanting to turn back to you, but he continued to walk.
And suddenly you noticed, a large temple rising in its might in front of you, as if before covered by the night blanket and a sand dust, floating around you in slow circles.
It was massive, with candle flames dancing in the air to guide your way through slowly appearing single palms and a stone path, leading right to the entrance. It spread across the desert, and you couldn't see the end of it.
You heard heavy steps of jackals running around and saw two statues of wolf-like creatures sitting calmly in front of the temple, almost like guarding it from strangers. Their pointed ears listened to your footsteps and hitched breath, although Anubis was guiding you confidently through the unknown path towards the temple.
Its pillars high as mountains, coated in colourful paintings of jackal-headed God, his life and history. Myths you've heard as a child, and his long figure, steady guiding lost souls through the underworld.
Underworld, which in paintings seemed different. Not just paintings, the stories you've heard, too. Duat was a vast land filled with danger, untamed monsters and demons, needing to navigate it with spells and Anubis's guidance. Before facing the final judgment of the weighted heart, every soul, together with pharaohs, needed to pass Duat. So you naturally also prepared yourself for the dangerous journey, the spells from the Book of the Dead already pinned somewhere in your memory, back from the early teenage years.
So why weren't you there?
Why were you standing in front of Anubis's temple, warm and safe, with the only danger you could think of in the form of Jackals?
But you were already dead, so even these creatures wouldn't be interested in hurting your soul.
You turned, seeing him standing right next to you in silence, following your every glance.
He was still holding your hand, his warm touch never leaving your skin.
You were tempted to finally ask, although it was difficult to assess his temper, covered under the heavy mask, down to his shoulders.
"My God, why–" you started, but your voice suddenly stuck in throat. So you tried once again. "Why am I here? Aren't we supposed to go through Duat?"
He stared at you silently, his mask making you feel as if you were talking to yourself.
For a moment, he didn't react at all, just standing close enough for you to feel the heat of his body. But then he turned around and followed inside the temple.
"Do you want to go to Duat?" he interrupted you.
He guided you inside, right to the massive chamber, with walls filled with his portraits and stories up and down. Multiple candles lighted your path, reflecting the gold elements inside, making the place deserved of the Godly presence.
"I thought we must–" you started, but he interrupted you once again, this time more sharply.
"Do you want to go to Duat?"
Was there a wrong answer to this question?
Of course, you didn't want to wander around the unbounded land filled with dangers, but if this is what you needed to do, to get into paradise, then–
"No," you whispered, looking down at your bare feet.
He knew the temple like the palm of his hand, guiding you through its long corridors and chambers. All of them flowing with gold and riches, one room more lavish than another, inviting you with their soft cushions and plush carpets, hugging cold, stone walls.
But then, you finally stopped, a chamber skimmed in darkness, with just a few candles scattered here and there. The biggest difference, however, was the massive bed, with a canopy made of flowing material, delicate as silk, covering it lightly from the prying eyes. The cushions decorated the floor, with a window, or rather just a lack of a wall, with a view of the borderless desert under the night sky.
You didn't know which floor you were on; however, you've never seen the desert from this height, so beautiful in its cruelty, you almost wanted to gladly give yourself to its hands.
The chamber was, nevertheless, warm, with a small fire sizzling shyly in the corner. Though you were dead already, and no mortal problems such as coldness could touch you no more.
The man turned to you once again, his massive figure covering the moonlight creeping inside the chamber.
"My God, why am I here?" you asked him warmly, feeling how his hand tightened on yours. "I should go through the judg–"
"You don't have to," he answered quickly, almost on one breath.
You looked at him in silence, with your chest tightening. Confusion bloomed on your face, and wind light as a feather crept inside the chamber, moving his hair slightly.
But his body tensed. Warm hands embraced yours, rubbing your knuckles in small circles, as his yellow eyes fixed on your face.
"Don't call me that," he whispered, almost painfully, dropping his head. "Do you not recognise me, my love?"
Your soft lips suddenly parted, a pink blush covering your burning cheeks, when you heard the way he addressed you.
He took a step closer, looking down at you as if in expectancy. An answer that would satisfy him the most, but one which you did not possess.
"My God, I'm sorry, but–"
You noticed he had a habit of not listening to you fully, too impatient to let you prolong this tension.
So his next request startled you even more.
"Take it off," he asked, kneeling in front of you.
Never in your dreams would you even think of a God kneeling in front of a mortal.
His presence alone was overwhelming, as if knocking the breath out of you and straining the nervous system in every wrong way.
Golden hoops were almost bursting on his muscular arms, slowly embracing your body. You gasped when he looped his arms around your hips, bringing you closer. This time, jackal's head looked at you from below, black ears almost touching your chin and yellow eyes just waiting for your next move.
Chill run through your spine, seeing a God himself in such an innocent, almost humiliating position, for a simple woman.
"Please, take it off, my love," he repeated, and the only thing you could do was to grant his wish.
The mask was smooth under your skin and lighter than it looked. You took it off slowly, careful of the long, gold earrings hanging from his ears and a few strands of hair, getting tangled in a black veil, covering both sides of the mask.
And then your knees almost went weak. A weird part of your memory, closed a long time ago, suddenly opened, all dusty and forgotten, but nevertheless there.
So precious, you couldn't believe you still remembered it after your death.
As before, while your heart was still pumping with warmth, when you could still hear the laughter of your siblings and your mother's nagging voice, the feel of the heavenly Nile on your skin and the sun blessing your skin with long kisses, he was there.
He was yours since you remembered.
Since you were a child, wandering alone near the river banks, with the waters so calm they didn't pose any danger. Some boats were floating quietly, the sizzling heat mercilessly warming your skin, although your legs dipped in water gave you a bit of pleasure.
You hid among the long grasses, in the corner only you knew of, quiet and peaceful, with a bustling city left far behind you.
You were lonely as a child, with your siblings still too small to keep you company, and your mother always too busy with them. Your father was somewhere there, always working, seldom home, barely keeping poverty from haunting your doorstep.
And when your mother would send you to fetch water and do some small errands, you would come here.
Well, maybe not entirely.
You would look at him, casting shy glances at the boy nearby, with his servants carefully overseeing his body dipped in water.
A Pharaoh's son – a prince himself.
And it didn't matter how secretive you thought you were, gazing at him from the long canes, fully covering your little body. It didn't matter how hard you tried to hide yourself, look at him greedily from far away – at his sad, lonely eyes, staring somewhere above the vast desert, with his beautifully smooth skin touched by goldness.
And he would wait for you in the warm evenings, when he could quietly leave the palace and meet you at the West Bank.
He was telling you about his childhood in a palace, and you would listen attentively, with glittering eyes and ears perked up to all the luxury he was swimming in.
There wasn't much to talk about as children, but you liked each other's company.
You were there for each other, two lonely souls, living in two different worlds, but somehow finding comfort in your own presence.
So it was sweet while you were children.
But then you started to grow up, and he too, with both of you glancing your way with more curiosity that made your stomach flutter, and cheeks burn under the moon.
He grew taller, broader in shoulders, his laughter deep like a Nile, raven hair right under his collarbones. Gold collars replaced the simple beds he once wore, and the weight of kohl-lined eyes carried something heavier than childhood loneliness now.
You grew sharper from hunger and labour. Your hands roughened from grinding grain, from washing linen in river water that bit at your skin. Yet when you met him in the evenings, when the sun bled red into the sand, and the whole world softened into amber, none of that mattered.
He would bring you figs wrapped in cloth, bread still warm, sometimes little trinkets stolen from lessons – an amulet chipped at the edge, a bead fallen from a noblewoman's necklace.
"For protection," he would say, putting it into your palm with a grin.
You knew it was risky. Everyone did.
A prince did not belong on the West Bank.
A prince did not sit in the dust beside a girl with no name worth carving into stone.
But he did, week after week.
And then the rumours began to spread through the city – about unrest, blood spilt in the dark corners of streets, about Pharaoh growing crueller with age.
And the prince grew quieter. His eyes wandered more often towards the unknown arms of the West Bank desert. Towards the death and low howlings, somewhere far away, above the dunes.
"I wish to take you away," he confessed once, voice barely louder than the evening wind. "Somewhere where I'm not watched. Where we could be together."
You smiled softly, the sadness creeping up your spine. It was such an innocent, teenage wish, both of you knowing never meant to come true. But nevertheless, you said:
That night, he kissed your forehead, reverent, trembling. As if praying.
Not long after, the meetings stopped.
The palace gates closed tighter. Servants whispered. Soldiers marched.
And one morning, the city woke to mourning cries ripping through the air like a torn linen.
Some said it was an illness. Some, that it was the Gods. They said many things, but you know the truth lived somewhere between the boy who wanted love and a world that allowed him none.
You stood among mourners as his body was carried through the city. Wrapped in white, crowned in gold. And when your knees gave out in the dust, no one noticed. You were simply invisible to everyone else. Just not him.
So now, with the jackal's head still in your hands, you felt it again. This flame, which you thought extinguished a long time ago, together with him.
His eyes looked at you from below with such a deep yearning and loneliness, your skin shivered. Dark, long locks surrounded his handsome face, carved just perfectly for a God, with deep kohl lines around his almond eyes, making the deep purplish irises stand out. You put a shaking palm on his cheek, his long earrings swinging when he nestled into it with a deep breath. His skin was as soft as you remembered, with one gold ring adorning his lower lip.
"Suguru?" you whispered, your voice trembling with emotions and tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. "Is it really–"
He placed a kiss on your palm, breathing the smell of your skin.
"I waited so long, my love," he said deeply, with arms locking you in an even tighter embrace. "I was counting the suns like a madman, waiting for our meeting."
You still couldn't believe it, caressing his beautiful face, running your fingers over his straight brows and plump lips, high cheekbones, pushing them into raven hair, softly dipping under your touch.
He looked so fulfilled, as if your touch alone was satisfying all his desires. Dark eyes drinking you in as if he feared you might vanish again.
They tracked every movement of your hand, looking at your soft lips and listening gentle voice, with an intensity that made your chest ache. There was hunger in him, yes – but not the crude kind. It was the longing of centuries, of devotion stretched thin across the spheres of life and death.
"I learned patience in Duat," he murmured, his forehead resting against your chest. "I learned restraint while my heart weighed. While I watched over every soul but not you."
"How did you end up like that?" you asked, gently tracing dark corners of his eyes.
"I begged Osiris to grant me this role. He cursed me forever with life among the dead, never able to see the sun again," he confessed softly, voice breaking at the edges. "But none of this mattered, as long as I could see you again."
"And Osiris, the God of the Dead, he's–"
You went silent, eyes suddenly widening with loss for words.
"Suguru, w-what do you mean? You killed... you killed a God?"
He slowly stood up, once again towering over you like a beast, with muscles bulging under the tight embrace of gold hoops.
He pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes burning with heaviness that knocked breath out of you.
"He tricked me. Never wanted me to take you back," his finger traced your slightly parted lips, thumb pressing them softly. "I didn't have any other choice. But now, I am the God of the Dead. And I decide where you spend your eternal afterlife."
You gasped, glancing between his eyes and lips, feeling a sudden surge of strange warmth between your thighs.
"And you'll stay here. As my Goddess."
You couldn't quite remember how you ended up in this situation. How quickly it escalated, after Suguru swiftly lifted you up and lay on a soft bed, a baldachin surrounding your burning bodies, as your lips clashed. He kissed you hungrily, with a deep frown and quite moans escaping his lips. The kiss was wet, messy, with your hands deep in his long locks, and his massive body hanging right above you, fingers slowly untying your robes and going straight for your breasts.
"Sugu–" you moaned, feeling him pinching your nipples, exposed to his gentle touch.
A harsh contrast to the wetness building fast between your thighs, so intense you curled your fingers in his locks, instinctively pushing him down on you.
"What's the rush, love?" he grinned devilishly, looking devastatingly beautiful above you. His voice like honey to your ears.
"Please," you begged, opening your legs wide like a good girl, looking at him with teary eyes.
And, oh, something must've snapped, because the next second he ripped the robes off you, leaving you bare under the moonlight. The inside of your thighs already covered in juices, opened wide just for his touch. He pushed your bent knees right to your chest, rubbing his clothed, aching cock against your sloppy pussy.
"Never in my lifetime have I felt such hunger," he closed his eyes with a deep groan, dark robe hugging his thighs, suddenly becoming wet with droplets of his precum. He looked down between your legs and slid a thumb between your pussylips, collecting even more juices gathered in your entrance. "Dear God, I can't wait to fill you full. We're gonna create the next generation of Gods."
Before you could answer, he lowered down, and the last thing you heard, before pleasure exploded in front of your eyes, was a loud slurp of Suguru's tongue running over your folds. It was drenched in his saliva, absolutely devouring your leaking pussy, spreading your folds with his two fingers.
"Mhmmm Sugu!" the moan that escaped your lips was obscenely loud, your eyes already rolling back.
Suguru groaned, sending tremors through your folds. His tongue was filling you just right, lips sucking hard on your clit till your hips jittered, wriggling on the bed sheets.
"Ah, ah," he put his heavy hand on your stomach, just where he planned to put his heir, pushing you harder against the mattress. "Stop moving, let me enjoy my meal."
He licked everything – every spot, every fold, twisting his tongue around your clit and pushing it inside, finally putting one finger in, to scoop up even more of your juices.
"Love, y-you taste so, oh God."
He slowly rubbed his hips against the mattress, stimulating his painfully hard cock while he devoured the sweetest dessert even the palace's kitchen couldn't serve.
And when he pushed his finger fully inside, your back lifted up in a delicious arch, spreading your thighs even wider, ready and desperate to feel something else aside from his fingers.
With his nose deep in your pussy, Suguru added a second one, praising you all the way long, imagining how your tight pussy will squeeze his cock.
"A-ah Suguuu, right there!"
Your eyes crossed when his fingers hit the sweet pot, driving you absolutely mad. Pushing one hand into his locks, you started to grind your hips against his tongue, madly, desperately and disgustingly filthy, trying to reach your high, using him as your personal toy. And he couldn't enjoy it more, his hips rubbing harder against the sheets, when he felt your small hands pulling his hair lightly.
And as much as he wanted to immediately cum inside your sweet pussy, the sheer view of your bouncing tits and slightly parted lips, eyes absolutely lost in pleasure and sweet, juicy fold tasing like pure ambrosia on his tongue, made him think that he won't last long.
It was so pathetic – to see a God in such a weak state, looking at you from below with teary eyes and pure desire, with tongue plastered to your fold and brows furrowed in pleasure. His long hair stuck to his wet forehead, looking devilishly good with nose deep in your fold.
"S-Suguru, stop, b-breath," you groaned, seeing how utterly lost he was.
Oh, his face was obscenely wet with your juices, while he pumped, pumped, pumped his fingers inside you, already feeling cramps in your lower belly. You were close, and he meant to walk you right through it.
"Don't need it, I'm a fucking God," he snapped, this time putting not just a hand, but a whole meaty arm on your belly to bring you even closer. "Come on, love. Cum for me."
His fingers were abusing your spot, lips sucking the clit, brushing it with teeth and shovelling his tongue even further inside your pink hole, fluttering for him so prettily he couldn't stop looking at it, overflowing with the syrup so good he wished it was the one which poisoned his mortal body. His long fingers as if reaching for your womb, going down your fluttering walls, stroking your sweet bundle of nerves, just to get you over the edge.
You started grinding harder, blubbering under your nose and moaning like a cat in heat, with his fingers stretching your tight pussy.
"Sugu, Sugu, Sugu, here, hereee."
And it was your final moan, before a watery gush escaped your sweet pussy, drenching his face in your heavenly juices.
"That's it, go on, my good girl," he talked you through it, while your thighs wrapped tightly around his head.
And if he wasn't a massive God, manhandling you with his pure weight of muscles, maybe you would worry about accidentally strangling him. "You're doing so good, you taste so fucking good, my good fucking girl."
He held you in an absolute chokehold, with thumb and index finger pinching your clit until you squirted even more, over his lowered chest and hair, until your thighs trembled and back lifted in delicious arch.
Suguru moaned lowly, pushing his arm on your belly and with one last grind cumming right in his robes, the sole taste of your pussy making him tremble in pleasure.
But you never finished, when he once again crashed against your lips in a hungry, messy kiss, this time tasting like your cum.
"Don't worry, there's still enough to knock you up before sunrise," he whispered, and you answered with a moan, sucking on his tongue, and feeling yourself get wet once again.
You droolled when he pulled back, gazing at you with parted mouths and pupils so dilated, you started to worry whether he's mind is still here with you.
And he was right, because the moment he pulled back, you saw his massive cock hard again, leaking with a precum, with wite droplets dripping smoothly down his veiny shaft. His red tip ferociously sliding up and down your plump folds, so desperately you weren't sure whether you could take him!
"Oh," you gasped when he put both of his big hands under your thighs and pushed you into a very, very mean mating press.
He looked so beautiful, truly Goldy, with bulging forearms keeping you submissively in a place, and small droplets of sweat, dripping down from his temple, through his sharp jaw and down the muscular chest, glistening under the faint flame of the fireplace.
"My God, I don't think I can–"
And this time, this name pushed him over the edge, weakening truly beastly ferocity inside him. Maybe he had something from a jackal, after all, looking hungrily at your teary eyes and winy lips, swollen from his sharp kisses, still wet from his saliva. He slowly glanced down at your bare breast and hard nipples, looking so tastefully, he couldn't wait till they would grow with milk, filling the robes he especially made for you with their plump heaviness. Your belly was breathing heavily, and the fat on your hips was making him truly crazy.
He cupped the heavy swell of your ass, pulling your puffy lips closer to his cock. He could feel your hole fluttering around nothing, and his cock just twitching at this sheer thought.
"You can, my love. I'll make it fit," he slapped his cock against your pussylips, before his head caught on your entrance. "I'm a God, there's nothing I cannot do."
And before you could fight, he pushed your thighs closer to your chest, ass almost in the air, while he sank his pulsing cock inside, so big and heavy, almost ripping you apart.
You moaned loudly, with stars already fluttering in front of your eyes.
And when you looked closer, you saw this mountain of muscles trembling slightly, his lips parted in an o, and brows furrowed, face flushed, as if he was restraining himself. As if your walls were clamping on him so hard, so raw, he needed a minute to not cum immediately deep into your warm womb.
But when he opened his eyes, you shut up.
Oh, well, you weren't going to make it out alive today.
Because he suddenly pushed, hard, raw, so obscenely rough the breath was knocked out of your chest. He moulded your hole to his size, pink walls catching on him almost like a glue and never allowing him to leave your sweet pussy, pumping, pumping, pumping his heavy shaft with pure passion.
"M-my love, oh God," he threw his head back, allowing you to lurk at his glistening neck and collarbones, hugged with a heavy gold necklace. "Your pussy's so greedy, mmm, makes me wanna make you a Goddess right here and there."
But you could just nod stupidly, with eyes rolling back and soft gasps leaving your parted lips. You could feel your cheeks getting wet with tears, when he placed his hand on your lower belly.
"Do you feel it, my love?" he asked, pushing his cock even rougher, fuller, his balls touching your ass. He pressed his hand around your tummy, bulging with his cock. "I've always dreamed of it, my love. You have no idea, ahhh, how often I imagined ravishing your sweet pussy."
He bent over, slowly licking tears from your flushed cheeks and then kissing you hungrily. He was devouring all the gasps escaping your lips, before he licked your lower lips, and the chin, cheeks, small curve of the nose, and your ears, groaning when you squeezed around him.
He was truly like a jackal, like a dog in a heat, licking and panting, filling every corner of your pussy up till your womb, up till your lower belly looked almost pregnant, so full of his heavy, leaking cock.
Gold earrings swayed with his every move, golden bracelets on his wrists clacking softly, when he pushed your thighs even closer to your chest, crushing you with a heavy mass of his muscles.
"Sugu, yes yes yes yes," you mawled, curling your toes, his cock making your head spin. "I-I'm almost, ngh, I can't, why you're so biiiiiig."
You rolled your eyes when he laughed with audacity and kissed your cervix with the head of his cock. He pulled back, only to look down at your hottishly, pink pussy, gripping his cock, as if waiting for him to breed her fully. He opened your pussy lips with two fingers, spitting on your clit with a devilish grin.
"She's not complaining," he chuckled, but the next second, you clenched on him so hard, his breath came out almost ragged. "M-my love, d-don't, ngh–"
And you felt so satisfied, seeing how easy to tame he was.
A God of the Dead himself, fucking you raw like a madman, manhandling in the meanest ways, only to glance at you with teary eyes the moment he felt your gummy walls clamping down on his cock.
"It feels so good, my love, so fucking good," he groaned, deciding to continue the abuse of your cervix, kissing, scratching and pushing it back with his reddened tip, until you felt a tingle in your womb. "I've never thought it would be like this. How many children do you want, hm?" he bent down again, catching your wet cheeks with his hand. "How many, my love? Six, seven? I'll be filling this pretty pussy till you wish."
But the only thing you can do is to cry out his name, feeling him growing feral, rougher, watching you madly in love, the way you arched your back and looked at him beggingly.
"Sugu, mhmmmm, as many as you want, as many as you want, j-just p-please let me–"
"I'll make you Goddess of the Sun, fuck–I'll kill that, ngh, fucker–I'll make you next Goddess of Egypt," he groaned right to your ear, but you couldn't do anything aside from feeling your legs shake, his hips slamming with each thrust.
His massive body pressed you once again, as if he knew how much pleasure you took from this, his veiny forearms crushing your thighs, pushing you in a stable mating press, not even a droplet of your juice escaping from your pussy, with his cock blocking the entrance as if glued to your walls.
"Tell me how you feel, love, go on," his hips rolling faster, rougher, feeling you getting closer and closer, with belly coiling with warmth.
"So gooood, so good, good–God!"
And then you gave him last, hard sweeze, your final warning before a broken moan spilt from your lips, with pussy trying to milk him dry, clenching and squirting all over his abomend and pulsing cock.
"S-shit–my love–take it, mhmmm, you'll be dripping with my cum, ah," his voice broke, when he slammed harder, one last time, his head bullying its way right through your clenching walls, spilling thick, hot ropes right into your womb. "I can't fucking–fuck–please m-marry me, please please please."
He ripped your pussy raw, pulsing inside you till you felt his warm cum coiling in your belly. He moaned so pitifully, licking, biting and peppering your face with kisses, his mind far too gone, just drowning in the pleasure of your sweet, clenching walls.
And then, he finally kissed your wet forehead, and put his mass carefully on your tired body, crushing you slightly, while he hid his face in your neck. His cock was still inside, rutting small, weak thrusts, just to keep the cum inside.
After a second, when you managed to control your ragged breath and trembling legs, you ran your fingers through his tangled hair, long cascades spilling all over your breast. And placed a weak kiss on his forehead, humming quietly until you felt his shallow breath.
"I don't want to be a Sun God," you whispered, feeling his body slightly move. "I just want to stay with you, here. I don't mind the darkness and the desert. I only wish to follow my God."
He raised his head. With a gaze full of love, he cupped your face, kissing you slowly, gently, with a pure, pure devotion.
"And he shall grant your wish."
That was something, I hope you liked it! Julius Cesar Gojo next LMAO
