↳˗ˏˋ“What’s inside of me but skull and bones..?” ˊˎ˗ ☆
- Doja Cat, “Skull And Bones” from the ‘Scarlet’ album. ☆ ˊˎ˗
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
“Who is Micah?”
It’s me, duh!
“Well who is Angel and Mimi?”
Still me. Mimi and Angel are nicknames.
“How old are you?”
19. Are we done here? That info is in my bio.
“Yeah, roll the cameras.”
↳˗ˏˋWhat I’ll write for/Etc.. ☆ ˊˎ˗
All the hottest bitches come here first for the rules.. .𖥔˚
↳˗ˏˋM.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆
The master list comes second.. I don’t make the rules. Oh wait, I do. ⋆.˚
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
↳˗ˏˋDNI..ˊˎ˗ ☆
Get the fuck out of here bitch, no one wants you here!
You can so kindly leave my blog if you are any of the following:
• racist
• homophobic/transphobic
• pro-shippers
• pedos.. or weirdos..
• ableist
• a fat-shamer or a body-shamer in general
• a person who uses slurs they can’t reclaim..
• a hater. Constructive criticism and just being plain old fucking rude are two different things.
• I’m 99% sure there’s other things.. I’m just forgeting.. (it’s my adhd yall lemme alone)
↳˗ˏˋDo interact!! ˊˎ˗ ☆
please interact on my page if you are.. (if you aren’t that’s perfectly fine too! Luv evb over here 🫶🏾)
• LGBTQ+! (I really js need more friends to relate to tbh..)
• POC. (Again- perfectly acceptable if you’re not)
• writers (need someone telling me I’m doing this shit right 😭)
• music enjoyers! (Any kind. Mitski, Laufey, Kali Uchis, SZA, Sir Chloe, Tyler the Creator, Kendrick Lamar, etc! It DONT MATTA. COME SIGN THESE PAPERS.)
• overall.. js be cool- it really don’t matter..
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
↳˗ˏˋFin.ˊˎ˗ ☆
How y’all like the new theme? I changed it up again w/ my indecisive ass. 🤷🏾♀️
Can’t think of anything else to add.. so this is the end! Bye <3 ✌🏾
Synopsis- You marry Dragon emperor Sylus as a treaty between your countries, you rarely see him and he decides to make an appearance on your birthday, except he doesn’t quite know it’s your birthday. He’s furious when he finds out and forces you to spend the day, and night with him.
A/n: reader’s sex gets called a cunt btw… also wrote this for the loml birthday that was last month.. kinda rushed.
Also if you like this kinda stuff there’s a rafayel one!! Read me and a Zayne one!! Read me
You and Emperor Sylus got married a little while ago, as part of a treaty between your two countries. You didn’t want to marry him, but you have to out of duty.
For the sake of your country.
The wedding was grand, extravagant in ways you wouldn’t have thought of if you got to plan it. Silk white drapes embroidered with golden threads hang from the ceiling, it takes you a while to realize that the pattern of the thread was that of a dragon.
Unsurprising considering who you were marrying.
Royals and nobles alike offered nothing but jewels and gold as a congratulatory gift, most were for you surprising even your husband.
Everyone knows how much a dragon likes to hoard.
Speaking of your husband— throughout the entire event, his eyes never left you. No matter where you were in the room you were always able to turn and see his piercing red eyes boring into you, his gaze cold, distant.
As rude as his staring was when your gazes met he had the decency to at least pretend he hadn’t been staring at you all night.
Your wedding day came and went and for a long while after it, you felt empty.
After your wedding ceremony, you were stuffed into a carriage and sent to a separate manor, one far away from your newly wedded husband.
If you can even call him that.
After all, you’re not properly married until you consummate your marriage at least that’s how the world in this day and age sees it.
Why would he marry you if he was just going to drop you off a half an hour away from him, surrounded by people you don’t know.
People who could want to assassinate you for all you know.
Not that he would care, he seems to busy doing other things.
He rides past your manor almost daily and yet he doesn’t stop, not for anything. The servants seem to pity you, but they think too highly of him to smudge his name with gossip.
That’s something you come to notice about the citizens here, they adore their emperor.
At first, you thought they feared him.
When he was near they didn’t talk loudly and they hardly dropped anything, but the moment he was gone they’d fawn over him and tell you how lucky you are that you’re the one who got to marry him.
A common phrase was always repeated
“I can’t believe we’re here with him!!”
The dragon emperor would visit you at times.
Briefly, almost as quick as it took you to take a piss.
He’d ask “How are you? Is there anything you need?” And right as the answer is out of your mouth he’s out the door.
He does this every week like clockwork.
And today, it seems, is the day he’ll do so this week.
You can hear is carriage stop outside your manor, the horses neighing as the coachman tries—and fails, to quiet them.
You can hear the tassel on his hilt clang against his scabbard as he hurries up the stairs, and finally, as he reaches the door he knocks.
Softly, as if he knows it’ll echo across the manor with how empty it is.
And he waits, patient as you walk towards the door.
He can hear you too.
You debate whether or not you should leave him there, tired of his pointless questions, tired of him acknowledging you then ignoring you in the same minute.
Your steps are slow and deliberate, waiting to see if he’ll get impatient and knock again, or better yet leave.
But no. He stays. Patient as always.
With a long sigh, you grab hold of the golden door handle, taking a deep breath before cracking it open.
“Hello, darling.” He drawls, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “Is everything okay with you?” He says, so low it’s almost like a whisper a look of concern on his face.
You can’t blame him for asking, especially with that look on his face.
You don’t exactly look your best today.
“I’m fine, my lord.” You say smiling tightly, “Nothing is better than spending your birthday alone after all.” Your voice drips with sarcasm as you say this, glaring at the dragonic man in front of you.
“Today’s your birthday?” He rushed out, tilting his head as he took a half step towards you.
“No, tomorrow is.” You chuckled out stepping further away from him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He growls, stepping further towards you.
For every step backwards you took he took another one forward as if something inside him was compelling him to do so, “you didn’t ask” you mumble, wincing when you bump into the corner of the wall too harshly.
The dragon huff’s obviously annoyed by this secret you decided to keep from him.
“Come with me” he demands, grabbing hold of your wrist before you can protest and dragging you out of your manor.
Sylus marched out of your manor and towards his carriage dragging you along with him, “My lord! Wait!” You yelp, trying to get him to slow down.
But that was all for naught, he’s a dragon for goodness’ sake, and you’re but a lord.
“Do not call me that,” he growls at you, “I am your husband, and you shall address me as such” he snarled lifting you and placing you inside the carriage.
“Well, I’m sorry, husband. It’s hard to remember I’m married when we live in separate manors.” You hum, turning away from him.
“If you didn’t like it, why didn’t you tell me?” He grunts out kneeling on the floor of the carriage in front of you, his eyes filled with a longing you’ve never seen before.
“Why would I? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to be wed to me, I mean, you didn’t even consummate our marriage.” You blurt out, before you could stop yourself.
Your face grew red as a small smirk made its way onto the dragon lord's face, “I’ve been holding myself back for nothing.” He purrs, shuffling closer towards you.
“The only reason you were in the blasted manor is because I was afraid I’d hurt you,” he says voice soft as cotton, “Since the moment I laid eyes upon you my dragon has longed to claim you” he pauses placing his hand on your hip and rubbing small circles there with his thumb, “I have longed to claim you.”
This statement from him shocks you.
You thought he was just waiting for you to die so he could marry someone else, someone he actually loves and wishes to have a family with.
“What..?” You query, eyebrows raised and eyes slanted. He's playing with you, he has to be.
“I’m not going to humor you nor play along with your game.” You huff, leaning back against the seat of the carriage, “I know you want nothing to do with me, it’s okay to be honest.” You mumble, deciding you had enough of your husband’s shenanigans and turning your head to look out the window.
“You’re my husband.”
“Out of political obligation, you didn’t even want to marry me.”
“If I didn’t want to marry you, the wedding wouldn’t have happened,” he snarls, smoke escaping from his nostrils.
“You-”
“ENOUGH!” He yells, cutting off your sentence, “You are my husband, my mate, my everything. A dragon wedding is more than that of a human's; it's not something you can force. It is the binding of our souls, yet our bond is incomplete, something I shall rectify immediately.” The way he says it scares you in a way, a very arousing way but in your defense as bad as you want to hate him he’s just so bloody attractive.
As if he can hear your thoughts he chooses that very moment to take a deep breath.
He pauses, eyes dilated as his gaze locks onto you.
You ignore the sight of his nostrils flaring and the trilling that starts in the back of his throat, focusing on the scenery outside of the carriage.
“Immediately indeed” he mutters, sighing as he finally sits down in a proper seat.
In the seat next to you no less.
“We have arrived!” The coachman yells as the carriage comes to a stop.
“Come, I wish to show you my hoard.” He purrs out, moving ahead of the coachman and opening the carriage door, jumping out and holding his hand out towards you.
You scoff, glaring down at him before ignoring his outstretched hand entirely stepping out of the carriage on your own.
The dragon merely smiles down at you, unfazed by your attitude, and grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers.
“Don’t worry, baobei. By the end of the night, all of those untoward feelings towards me will be nothing but a bad dream” he hums, looking down at your interlaced hands, smiling as he takes in the difference between the sizes of your hands.
He nods to the coachman signaling that he can leave, before marching up the stairs to his palace or, ‘hoard’ as he put it.
This isn’t the palace where you married, you realize as you take in the scenery around you. This one is more secluded.. more private. Covered in the wilderness of the earth around it, “Do you like it?” A voice tones, interrupting your thought process.
You glanced up at the male next to you, fixing your lips to mutter the word ‘no’ before you take one more glance at your surroundings. You realize that the sights surrounding you are too beautiful to lie about.. and he’d probably know you were lying anyway. So, you grant him a single nod.
“I’m glad you like it,” he rumbles, leaning down towards you and placing a small peck on your temple.
You glare in response, frustrated that after all this time he finally wants to act like a true husband because it’s your birthday.
“Oh don’t look at me like that,” he pleads, opening the door to his hoard, “in you go baobei.” he muses, placing a hand on the small of your back and shoving you—not pushing— shoving you inside.
The moment you’re both inside the door is closed and locked, the hall is dark except for the red glow of your husband’s eyes.
You blink trying to adjust your eyesight to the darkness of the room, before you realize that the dragon's hand is still on the small of your back.
The claws at his fingertips sink into your flesh, possessive in a way, and you’re suddenly all too aware of how alone you both truly are.
“My darling,” he purrs, leaning down to place his chin on the top of your head.
There’s something in his voice when he says it, something dark, something you can’t exactly pinpoint.
He slides his hand from the small of your back to your pelvis, right atop your uterus.
He sinks his claws into there too.
You bite back a whine, the shock of it sending you into the tips of your toes.
“I have longed to have you here with me” he whispers, voice soft and gentle despite his actions.
“It took everything in me not to use my rule as your husband— your emperor to have you with me.” As he says this his claws dig deeper, hooking onto the flesh they’ve penetrated.
“I had to settle for coming to see you once a week— my visits short and brief out of fear I’d lose control.” He pauses, listening to your soft and short whines as you grip at his wrist trying to get his claws out of you. “But that only keeps a dragon sane for so long” he moans out, finally listening to your pleading whines and removing his claws from so deep in your flesh. “A dragon cannot rest until its most precious treasure is lying within its hoard,” he chimes, grabbing your shoulders and turning you around, smiling when he sees the stray tear trailing down your face.
He leans down, opens his mouth, and licks the tear up before it could fall onto the fabric of your vest. “Oh don’t cry, my darling,” he pouts, getting down on his knees in front of you, grabbing onto your hips and pulling you closer to him.
“You see, I put you in that cursed manor to protect you. For I knew, if I had you where I wanted you. I wouldn’t be able to control myself” he whines, nuzzling into your pelvis, shushing you when you cry out from the pressure.
“Don’t worry sweetheart,” he purrs, hooking his claws into your pants, “I’m gonna take such good care of you.” And with that, he pulls, tearing the clothes from your body .
“My lord-” you choked out, shocked at how he’s behaving before you’re interrupted by a deep growl, filled with rage.
“I told you not to call me that.”
You cover your body in shame, embarrassed that you’re nude in such a public place, where anyone can just walk in and see.
“I am your husband, you shall address me as such” he snarls, glancing up at you and frowning once he sees you covering yourself, “I am your husband, there’s no need to hide yourself from me.” He says it softly, a complete contrast to how he’s been acting lately.
“Are you embarrassed?” He questions, smiling before kissing your stomach.
“There’s no need, the servants won’t tell a soul” he hums, trying to reassure you. “And if they do, I’ll simply eat theirs” with that he attacks. Yanking you down by your legs so that you fall perfectly into his lap, you scream— obviously— the suddenness of the act frightening you. A few hours ago this man was a cold and distant husband, practically a stranger to you. But now…now he’s on his knees practically worshiping you.
He mutters fervent whispers against your naked flesh, clutching at every part of you that he can reach. “I shall take you, properly. As a husband should.” His voice is strained, almost like he’s struggling to get his words out.
“But first, we must make it to our nest” he purrs, the strange, inhuman sound building up in his chest and shaking your body with it. And suddenly, with no time to process, you’re being carried down stairs, bridal style of course, nothing less for an emperor’s mate.
Candle flames begin to appear like magic, lighting up the faces of the servants eagerly taking in your naked form. Strangely enough, their eyes do not hold a speck of lust in them. They’re simply excited to see you, in the emperor’s hoard— where you belong.
Your husband is focused on the task of getting you to the center of the room, where a bed of furs lies, surrounded by all the jewels the dragon has collected over the years.
His strides are long and hurried, barely paying attention to his servants as he heads toward his goal that is mere steps away.
In a breath, you are there. Your husband apparently remembered that it’s much faster to fly than walk, the flashed movement catches you off guard. Not used to being teleported halfway across a room, in less than a second.
Unfortunately, your husband could not care less.
Too focused on getting in between your legs and breeding you than making sure you’re okay with the sudden change in scenery.
“My darling” he drawls, breathing heavily as he carefully sets you down on the layer of furs. “I’m afraid I cannot be as gentle, about this moment as I would like to be,” he says ‘gentle’ like the word has personally wronged him by simply existing, “my dragon will not let me.”
He strips quickly, frustrated that he’s even wearing robes in the first place. His tail comes to wrap itself around your thigh, as he tears the last of the clothes away from his skin; he sighs in relief as he’s finally freed from them, his eyes falling shut as he welcomes the cool air against his heated skin.
His eyes stay shut as he regulates his breathing, then his tail tightens around your thigh, he plays with the flesh there, drawing invisible shapes onto it using the tip of his tail to do so. Then with a lick of his lips, he opens his eyes, just a sliver, you barely noticed at first until you saw the red glow to them, shining down at you in the dimly lit room.
He reaches out towards you, placing his hand on your clawed pelvis, he presses down on it before humming unhappily, “It’s so empty” he hisses, upset that he has yet to fill you.
“Don’t worry, my sweet.” He croons, caressing the injured flesh there. “I shall fix that” he trails his clawed hands downward, towards his treasured goal, “I shall fill your empty, hollow womb with my essence,” he promises, using his tail's grip on your thigh to spread your legs apart for him.
His eyes widen once your moistened cunt comes into view, the glow of his eyes brightening as he takes in the sight of it. His clawed fingers eagerly come to caress it, his pupils sharpen as he watches your back arch at the sudden pleasure bestowed upon you.
“I cannot use my fingers upon you,” he mutters, a mocking tone lingering underneath the words, “but-“ he pauses, his tails unraveling from around your thigh and slithering towards your core, “I suppose this will do?” He phrases it like it’s a question, but you both know it’s not. His tail is already pressing against your opening when it is said, not waiting for permission to enter you.
“My lord-”
“Husband” you are interrupted by him, his tail steadily pushing into you, “or better yet, Sylus” he hums, watching you with glee as you shake and writhe as his tail splits you open.
“Sylus, husband— please” you whine, your thighs shake as his hand begins to play with your clit as if it’s a fidget toy. “That’s it, call out my name” he groans, sliding himself between your thighs as his tail finally reaches the barrier to your womb.
“ I shall see that all your needs are seen to” he hums, leaning down to kiss your clavicle, he offers it a soft peck before sinking his fangs into the thin flesh there. Groaning out as he listens to your pleasure-pained cries, he bites down harder, drawing out your delicious blood.
The taste of your blood sparks a noticeable change in the dragon hybrid atop you, his hand moves from your clit to your thigh and he uses that grip to hike your leg onto his hip, shifting his tail deeper into you past that cursed barrier and further into the deepest part of you.
With an unhappy grunt, the dragon removes himself from his spot, “We’re almost there, my darling” he purrs, thrusting his tail further into you.
Answering your whines and whimpers with kisses of devotion and reverence.
He moved his tail impatiently as he fucks it into you, tired of feeling you warming his tail and longing for you to warm his cocks instead.
“I can’t” he whines out, abruptly pulling his tail out of your cunt, chirring at the loud whimper it drew from you, “I can’t wait any longer, I must have you” he trills like a madman, letting his cocks fall from the slit between his legs, grinning down at you when you gasp at the sight of them.
He cannot blame you, they are not like human cocks. Textured with smooth black scales and blood red barbs, lines of crimson red are branched out across both his cocks. The hole of the top one is wider— for the depositing of eggs, his ovipositor. The one at the bottom is longer, it will reach the deepest parts of you and fill you in ways unbeknownst to you. He will use both of them to ruin you for any and everyone, both human and dragon. He will claim you entirely.
He offers you a soft kiss upon the lips, savoring the taste of you. Humming in key with your whine as he brutally pushes into you, only one of his cocks— his ovipositor. He wasn’t lying when he said he would see you filled tonight.
He laughs as you cry out to the skies, he thrusts into you steadily, hard and fast, his speed doesn’t waver unless it is to speed up. He smiles down at you as you try to escape his powerful thrusts, clawing at the furs beneath as if that would help you.
“Look, my love” he quips, tilting your head to the side, towards the eyes of the servants eagerly taking in your coupling with childish cheer hidden in their eyes. Sylus kisses down your neck as you take in the gaze of the servants watching you, chuckling as he watches you gaze back at them.
“They have longed to see you,” he whispers into your ear, sliding his hand from your thigh to your waist as he listens to your choked off moans. “Moreso than me it would seem,” You would expect him to sound jealous of that fact, but instead he sounds absolutely delighted. Happy that his servants— citizens welcomed and embraced you.
“They have accepted you as my one and only mate” he purrs, closing his eyes in pleasure as he feels his eggs begin to make their descent. “My eggs” he chokes out, tightening his grip on you, ignoring your pained cries as his claws find home in your unsullied flesh. “They’re coming” he cries out, almost pained in the way he says it.
“You’ll take them” he whines out, eyes wide and glowing as he turns your head back towards him, “you’ll take them for me, yes?” He whimpers, he asks this but his hips do not slow. He doesn’t even brace for the possibility of you saying no, he just thrusts into you nonstop, unyielding.
“Please, say you will darling,” he cries, speeding his hips up as his first egg begins to push itself out of him and into you. “Sylus” you cry as it begins to spread you wide. “I can’t” you hiccup, clawing at the furs now soaked with both your juices. “It’s too much” you whine, as the egg continues to spread you wide, “Sylus.” You whimper, tears filling your eyes as you gaze up at him.
“You can take it, sweetheart, I know you can.” He pants trying to coax his egg into you so that it may lie safely in your womb, “you can take all of me, I know it.” He groans, hissing in pleasure as the egg finally passes into you.
He shushes you as the egg is pushed past your cervix and into your once-empty womb, “There is much more to follow,” he groans out, sighing in relief as the rest of the eggs pile up in his ovipositor, awaiting their turn to enter you.
“Sylus,” you whine, lifting your hands to weakly push at his shoulders, “wait- I have to” you pant, tears spilling down your face as you try to get the words out. It doesn’t matter, he’s a one-minded man, focused only on filling your cunt with his eggs and seed.
You’re cumming before you can get the words out, thighs twitching, back arching as the overwhelming pleasure courses through you.
“That’s a good boy,” he grins, watching as you cum undone as he fills you with his eggs, one by one. He watches as your eyes flutter shut in pleasure only to reopen as yet another is stuffed inside your womb, he watches as your moans become hums and whines. He watches as your stomach rounds with his eggs and your mouth fills with drool, eyes rolling into the back of your head as pleasure overcomes you.
“That’s all of them” he pants once all the eggs are pushed into you, leaning down to press a kiss to your soft open lips, “there’s roughly twenty of them,” he says, caressing your round stomach with his hand.
He smiles as you slow blink at him, barely registering what he’s saying just knowing that he’s saying something, “regrettably, we’re not done yet,” he trills, slowly pulling out of your swollen hole, shushing the whine it pulls from your lips. “We still have to fertilize them.” He crooned, sliding his other cock in as he said so. Groaning as he bottomed out, “I’ll try to make this quick my dear.”
“Sylus please, fill me.” You cry, fucking yourself on his cock. “I wanna be full” You’re delirious with pleasure, choking on saliva as he fucks into you as he had before. Jostling the eggs inside you, “I will, as I promised” he coos, watching intently as you fuck yourself onto his cock.
“I’m so close” you whimper, your over-sensitive nerves firing as they’re stimulated repeatedly. “Cum for me.” He calls, wrapping his tail around your waist, “cum on my cock, darling, milk me for all I’m worth” he begs, shuddering when you tighten around him in orgasm, “yes, that’s it.” He whispers, purring as he watches you twitch in pleasure. “Take what you want from me,” he coos, panting as his end comes near.
“I shall leave you full and satisfied, my love. Round with my seed, and draped in my jewels” he hums, speeding up his thrusts as his completion nears, kissing down your neck as he awaits it.
His tail tightens around his waist as his orgasm rolls over him, barbs sinking into the flesh of your walls, his wings spread behind him, fluttering as his cum spills in you. He roars as he fills you, wings lifting you both from the furs, the servants— you notice— are roaring with him. Cheering on his success in filling you with children, clapping with delight at the thought of having little dragons to attend to.
Once the emperor is fully emptied, he lowers you back down to the furs. Wrapping his wings around both of you, “Happy Birthday, darling.” He purrs, rubbing his horns against you. Trying to get more of his scent on you.
“Is this to your standards?” He asks, sighing against your neck, “I loved it, dear” you mutter, running your hands in his hair, scratching at the base of his horns. “The very best birthday gift.” You hum, tired from all of your previous activity.
“I didn’t hurt you?” He asks, tiredness evident in his voice as he does so. “No, of course not.” You assure him, smiling softly at him, “You did everything I asked.”
“Fucking hated it, being apart from you is the worst.” He pouts, trying to bury himself further into your neck. “Rest now, my love” he whispers, caressing your stomach. “I shall make sure you and the children are safe.” He coos, the glow of his eyes returning.
A rumble starts in his chest as he begins to purr, pulling you into the kingdom of dreams.
—
A/n: I have to wake up in like 2 hours but I decided to finish this instead!! (*≧∀≦*)
NSFW! MDNI! Creampie! Breeding! Primal kink! Courting rituals! Biting! Marking! Size kink! Claw marks! Scenting! Mating bites! Nesting! Eggpreg! Front hole sex! Mating cycles! Rafayel has two cocks! Strangers to friends! Friends to strangers! Strangers to mates! Character death! Implied child abuse! Fisting! Readers hole gets called a cunt!
Synopsis: Rafayel arrives at the rescue center where you work, severely injured, and decides he wants you all to himself. Conveniently, after you nurse him back to health, he goes into a rut. Things get a bit crazy.
A/n: i won’t lie there’s probably a lot of shit in this ho that isn’t tagged but I’m too lazy to go through and figure it out so… rip. This is a birthday gift for the loml, and I told her if I finished in time I’d make a sylus one too!! So be on the look out for that ig. Also.. i started just typing shit halfway through so.. be warned.
⸻
The sea is a cold, dark place.
The briny air stung eyes and dried lips, but underneath the surface, it was even more brutal.
Unfriendly and unwelcoming to even its children, only the strongest survive the clashes of claws and fangs.
As the waves roared and the ocean made its thirst for blood known, currents and beasts alike tore at things that stayed too long.
It’s even worse in places where food is scarce, where prey is too scared to venture out because they know the only thing that awaits them is the jaws of a fearsome predator.
The lack of food breeds ruthless bloodshed, leading to the formation of the corporation you work for. Squidlings Corp helps preserve lemurian and other merfolk kinds.
Many different corporations do the same; the only difference is that Squidlings Corp doesn’t keep them in tanks but instead houses them in a cut-off section of the sea itself. That way, they don’t have to deal with the discomfort of being too far from their home.
The latest specimen they’ve brought in is a Lemurian, quite an attractive one at that. He was brought in pretty banged up; deep gashes littered his tail and torso, and his wounds were so extensive that one of his pelvic fins was hanging on for dear life.
He winced and flinched at everything, even the air that blew on his wounds, his tail twitching weakly as he was rushed into an operating room.
At first, no one believed he would make it.
It was a wonder that he survived the swim to the surface, let alone the trip to the care center to be treated.
But after his surgery, you were assigned to be his caregiver. You’ve nursed many mers before him, but this one had a unique problem—he hated you.
Every time you approached the water, he’d start crying, unlike the human cries you’ve heard before. His cry was like a whale’s, loud enough to melt a whale’s brain. Or maybe that’s just because you’re a human. The only time he didn’t release one of those shrill cries was when you brought him food.
You understood his reaction.
He wasn’t the only one who had reacted this way to you, and you doubted he’d be the last. Coming from a place as untrusting as the sea would do that to you, and the fact of how they ended up in your care in the first place.
Still, it hurt.
Those cries were meant to stun prey, but it also hurt because you desperately wanted to help him.
It was also hard to nurse him if he wouldn’t even let you near him.
And the kicker was, he only acted this way with you. Anyone else, he’d act like the sweetest thing. He’d let them pet him, rub his tail, and even sing for them if they asked.
You knew you sounded jealous, but you weren’t. You weren’t, right? But every time you saw him be nice to someone else, your chest tightened.
But the way he’d knowingly smirk at you as he nuzzled into someone else’s hand drove you mad.
So mad, in fact, that you decided to switch with someone else. Her mer—not a Lemurian—was young. A pup who had picked a fight he couldn’t win. He was an absolute sweetheart! You may or may not have spoiled him a bit, but everyone does!
He was just so stinking cute and a bit of an idiot, but that was to be expected with how young he was. Feral mers—or at least those unassociated with a pack—kind of learn as they go since they’re left alone the moment they’re laid. You spent a week spoiling him rotten before his old handler came to you. “We need to talk.” Firm, final, no room for whatever pitiful excuse you could possibly come up with.
“Okay…? About what?” The look on her face makes you worry. “Did something happen to the Lemurian?” She looks pissed at the mention of him, weird considering before the switch, they were the best of friends. “Come here,” she snapped, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into the nearest corner. “We need to switch back.”
What? “Why?” The deep breath she takes tells you just how frustrated she is with her current charge. “He’s going nuts, that’s why,” she sighs before putting her hands on your shoulders. “He keeps trying to get out.” You have no idea what that has to do with you, and that shows on your face because, with a long sigh, she whispered, “He keeps trying to get out to see you.”
‘No, he’s not; he fucking hates me.’ The disbelief shows on your face; you never did learn how to cool your facial expressions.
“I’m serious. When I told him you weren’t coming back, he went fucking ballistic.” She huffs, running her hand through her hair and starts pacing. “I didn’t think anything of it at first, but then he stopped feeding.” Oh. That’s bad. “Yeah, it fucking is. Why do you think I came here? You need to take your Lemurian back before he starves to death.”
While that wouldn’t happen, if he got severely malnourished, the higher-ups would just send someone to put a feeding tube in him. But still, your conscience wouldn’t let you let it get that far. “Fine. We can make the switch.” The look of relief that flooded her face made you feel like you were doing a good thing… but you knew better, and deep down, you knew you were making a big mistake; you just didn’t know how big.
⸻
Walking into work the next day knowing you had to face the mer of your nightmares is not a fun feeling. You were so close to just calling in sick—or, even better, quitting—just to avoid interacting with the Lemurian who despises you. Despite all of your nerves and the nagging feeling that today is the day you die, you go to work.
When you see him for the first time since you dumped him on your colleague, all of your nerves wash away as you’re struck by his beauty.
Being away for so long made you forget how breathtaking he was.
He didn’t notice you at first, or maybe he did and chose to ignore you—hurtful, but better than his cries. Quietly—as quiet as a mouse—you approach, watching as the waves lap up at his waist and his long hair cascades down his back.
You breathe in deep, taking in the air of the salty sea before you to calm yourself.
“Knock knock,” you say gently, pushing the rest of your nerves into a hidden corner in your mind.
“I heard a certain someone wasn’t eating and was dying to see me!!” You’re basically skipping toward him as you chirp that out, only slowing down to kneel in front of him.
Watching with bated breath as he finally looked at you.
The moment you made eye contact, the air left your body.
“Uhh, who are you?”
Okay, ouch.
“You seem kinda familiar, you know.” He leans towards you as he says this, breathing you in.
“Are you mad?” you ask, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, breaking eye contact to look at the much more interesting wall behind him.
He tilts his head, trilling in the back of his throat as he grabs your chin and forces you to meet his gaze once more.
“No, I’m happy. My handler found his way back to me. Finally.”
“I was worried you’d forget about me again; I wouldn’t be able to take that.” He talks so much; he’s never talked this much to you before. Not only is he talking to you, but he’s touching you. This has to be a dream…
Wait.
“Again?” The moment you say that word, it’s like it flipped a switch in him, his eyes lowering in a glare as he looks at you. His hand tightening on your chin as he used his other to brush your hair out of your face.
“Do you truly not remember me?” The way he says it breaks your heart; it’s like he’s longing for something you cannot give him, and the way his thumb is brushing against your lower lip doesn’t seem too far-fetched.
The look of desperate yearning in his eyes as he leans in closer to you before stopping mere centimeters away from your lips.
“It’s okay, I’ll help you remember.” He rasped before pecking your temple and diving back into the cold, dark, miserable sea.
⸻
It happened a little over a decade ago, the incident in which you met. Back when mers were deemed threats to humanity and anyone who could bring one back was given a hefty award, whether it was dead or alive.
Humans have a knack for fearing things they don’t understand, not to say mers aren’t dangerous. The tales of them dragging sailors to their dooms aren’t just an old wives’ tale.
Your father happened to be one of the people that took this as an opportunity to purge the world of the things he deemed filth and hunted down as many mer as he could. You didn’t know much about his work at the time.
He didn’t want you to see how much of a monster he truly was, but as he got older, he realized that if he didn’t act soon, you’d become one of those mer-loving freaks.
The summer of your tenth birthday was perfect, he decided—not too old to have opinions and not too young to not understand his teaching. The perfect age to make sure you grew up right and not turn out like your mer-loving mother.
The boat—Golden Horizon the name—was in tip-top shape for how long it had been around. First, it was just a regular cargo ship, hosting cars and such, and in a sick and disgusting way it still is: just hosting much more fishy merchandise.
It was rusted in some places, and you could smell the blood of the beings that were killed here. Not that little you knew what you were smelling, just that it had a weird sour smell that sunk into your clothes and followed you even when you left the ship. At the time, you thought it was just the scent of rust mixing with the briny smell of the sea.
Soon, you’ll learn just how far off you were.
The ship croaked and groaned as it sailed away from the pier. The entire time you were on that ship, you thought it was going to sink.
As much as you didn’t want to be on a ship as scary as this one, you wanted to spend time with your father. He isn’t around much—something about how your mer-loving mother sickens him.
You never knew why everyone had a problem with mer; to you, they were just pretty little—and sometimes huge—things. You always wanted to be friends with one, but daddy always said no child of his would be a mer-loving freak.
That night was your first lesson, your first and last.
You were awoken by singing; it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. So alluring and ethereal, leading you from your quarters to the deck of the ship.
Just as you were about to get close to the railing, your dad yanks you back. “What do you think you’re doing?” He snapped, gripping your arm tightly. “I know, I didn’t raise someone foolish enough to give in to the songs of a mer.” He gruffs out, letting you go with a shove.
“Go get my harpoon, boy.”
The sneer in his voice as you run to do as he says, even though he calls you that, you know he’ll never see you as what you truly are.
His harpoon is by his bed, easily reachable in case of emergency. It’s heavy in your hands, and you have to sort of drag it out to him, but you manage to get it to him just fine.
The glare in his eyes as he takes it from you tells you that you took too long.
Seeing his glare makes you flinch away, and just as you’re about to slink off into the darkest corner of this ship, he grabs you. “Come here.” He demands, dragging you to the side of the boat.
“I’m going to show you what it takes to be a real man,” he muttered, positioning the harpoon into your hands.
“You’re gonna kill that bastard mer.” He growls, stepping away from you.
“If you don’t—” He pauses to lick his lips.
“I’ll kill you.”
The endless sea begins to churn around your ship, as if upset that a lowly human thinks it has the right to kill one of its many children.
The mer’s song gets louder as the ocean’s waves crash into the side of the ship, shaking it with such force.
Your father is growing impatient; the darkness that surrounds you both isn’t making his temper any better. Even though you can feel his anger begin to brew under his skin, you cannot bring yourself to harm another being—something whose heart is beating just like yours.
“Just throw the damn thing,” he snaps at you, roughly pushing your shoulder. “We don’t even know how many are out there; they can sink us at any moment, damn it!” He yells; his anger makes the hair on your neck stand up. Your body trembles, and just as he begins to raise his hand, you throw it.
It doesn’t go far—just slightly over the side. The song stops the instant the harpoon leaves your hand, and the sea becomes tranquil once more.
Your father opens his mouth, but before he can start degrading you and telling you how utterly useless and pathetic you truly are, the harpoon comes flying back. From much—much farther away.
Into his chest.
The scream you let out is deafening. Your eyes switch between your father and the haunting sea below you before finally sticking to your father. You turn your body to face him, eyes and mouth wide in shock.
The only thing to leave his mouth is a croak and blood.
Such a brilliant red it’s almost beautiful.
He reaches for you, trying to grab hold of you. In your fear, you back away. The problem is—you back away a little too far…
As you fall towards the sea, the waves rise to catch you; they cradle you like your mother did when you were younger. Even as you sink into the depths of the cerulean sea, they caress you with love that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s actually quite… peaceful.
The song starts up again, pulling you into a sense of calm. The song is softer now, as if it’s a lullaby meant to lure you to sleep.
It works; your eyelids begin to feel heavy, or maybe it’s the lack of air. Just as you begin to fully lose consciousness, you feel a pair of arms wrap around you. And the song changes in turn—it’s still soft, but there’s something there, almost as if it’s telling you not to worry, that you’ll be safe.
The next time you open your eyes, you are in a cave that almost seems to cradle you. The walls are covered in bioluminescence, and the moon shines down upon you.
You are still wet—not soaked-to-the-bone wet, but wet nonetheless. Your eyes sting, and your throat is the only dry part of you. If not for the fact that you are wet, you would’ve thought everything was just some sick dream, but you knew otherwise.
Your head feels like it’s going to explode, and the rest of your body isn’t any better. It is only when you let out a groan of pain that you realize you are not alone.
There is someone—something—watching you.
Eyes a mix of blue and purple stare up at you from the pool of water in front of you. It’s the mer.
The mer that killed your father.
You let out a whine of distress, breathing quickening as you try to get away from them with the strength you have left.
Before you can start hyperventilating, it begins to sing—the same soft song from before.
As it sings, it moves closer, its tail rippling the surface of the water.
“You must be thirsty,” it—he—remarked, pulling himself on shore. He wasn’t much older than you by the looks of it. He wasn’t more than 12 at the most, but there’s no way a 12-year-old would be able to throw a harpoon as effectively as he did.
Then again, he is a mer.
Your wide-eyed stare is all the answer he needs before he reaches down to grab a gourd. “Catch,” he chimes, amused at your shock-ridden face as he tosses it your way.
You lick your lips when the gourd lands in your palms; your mouth is so dry it doesn’t even wet them. In a hurried, desperate manner, you open it and bring it to your mouth the moment the top pops out.
“Slow down, you’ll choke,” the amused mer at the base of your feet urged, concern dripping into his voice. Grabbing the base of the gourd and pulling it from your lips, he manages to drag himself up closer to you while you are drinking. “I’ll bring you more tomorrow, along with something to eat, so don’t worry.”
You swallowed, looking down at the sand beneath your feet before looking back up at him through your eyelashes. “Why did you save me?” you ask, ducking your head back down before he could answer. Clutching at your arms as you tried to make yourself as small as possible, “Why did you kill my daddy?” Your voice cracks as that sentence leaves your mouth; sure, he wasn’t always nice to you.
Actually, he was rarely nice to you, but still. He was your father, and no matter what, children are supposed to love their parents.
“Firstly, I saved you because unlike your ‘daddy,’ you don’t deserve to die,” he answers. His voice is stern, in a way that kids his age shouldn’t sound. “Secondly, your father—if you can even call him that—threatened to kill you, and from how scared you were of him, he has beaten you several times before.” His voice is softer this time.
Like he knows if he raises it, he’ll scare you, and that’s the last thing he wants at the moment.
Instead of acknowledging what he said, you ask him another question, one much more serious.
“When will I be able to go home?” This whispered question makes the mer freeze; his eyes widen as he looks at you. He knows he won’t be able to keep you, but still, something in his chest aches at the thought of letting you go.
“Not for another week or two; a storm is coming. A big one, the sea will be in turmoil for a while,” he answers before trilling, “Go back to sleep now, you need rest,” he demands, pushing at your shoulders. Before you can protest, he begins to sing, and like before, it says, “You’re safe, I have you now.”
And that is all you need before your body slips into the kingdom of dreams.
When you woke up in the evening the next day, you found freshly prepared fish waiting for you, accompanied by the gourd from the other day, refilled as promised.
The fish was steaming, strangely enough; its eyes clouded over as a deep, long cut ran down its body. It had been properly gutted, and every cut made on the fish was done with the utmost care. Every small bone that posed a choking hazard was removed and laid next to it, as if to let you know you didn’t have to do anything to it.
You don’t quite like fish; you just could never get past the taste.
But you don’t quite like starving either.
Bracing yourself, you push up from the sand-covered floor and shuffle over to the prepared fish, sitting down to take it in more clearly. You hesitate slightly—what if he poisoned it? You ponder, though that thought is short-lived. With a growl from your stomach, you reach out to pinch off a strip of the fish’s pale flesh.
Your hands shake as you bring it to your mouth. Whether it’s from low blood pressure or nerves, you can’t tell. But either way, you slowly push the fish past your chapped lips, caressing it the rest of the way in with your tongue.
The texture is soft, the taste surprisingly sweet. It fills your belly in ways it hadn’t been filled in ages; the only thing that could make this meal better is a bowl of rice and some company. After all, everything tastes better when shared. The salt clings to your tongue and is only washed away when you take a sip of water from the gourd.
You’re about halfway through the fish when you feel his eyes on you, watching you eat. He doesn’t come closer; his head only breaches the surface enough for his eyes to peek through.
You let him watch for a while, before the eyes on you start to make you anxious. “Stop looking at me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. That doesn’t make the mer stop; in fact, you acknowledging him just makes him rise out of the water, closer to you.
“Do you like it?” he asks excitedly, chirping once he finishes his sentence. His eyes look from you back down to the fish bones lying in front of you. “Yes,” you whisper, still too scared to speak for the most part.
“You’re so tense!” he whines, dramatically falling onto the rocks in front of you. “Tell you what! To make you less tense, why don’t you ask me three questions?” He beams, flicking water up from the sea with his tail.
“Fine,” you agree after a very awkward moment of silence. “Uhm, what’s your name?” you ask. Very cliché, but if you’re going to be buddy-buddy with this guy, you might as well know his name.
“Rafayel. Next.” He sinks deeper into the water, almost disappointed that you asked such a boring question.
“There are different kinds of mer, right? What kind are you?” you query, tilting your head slightly as you stare at him.
“I’m Lemurian,” he brags, chest puffing up as he says it.
“You must be really proud to be one,” you tease, giggling to yourself when he nods in agreement.
“Uhmmm, why did you save me..?” you ask for your final question, looking at him like your entire being depends on his answer.
“You interested me,” he says, after a moment of thinking. “You are the one I was singing for that night, not your father,” he hisses, angry at the now-dead man.
You can’t blame him; the man did ruin the way you met. You’ll probably always think of him as the mer who killed your father and—and—
“You know, thinking back on it, you kind of did me a favor.”
What?
The lemurian’s eyes widen so fast you would’ve thought he was a cartoon character. “What?”
You laugh, placing your hands in your lap. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved my dad, but over the years he got kind of… mean,” you confide, digging your nails into the fabric of your pants. “He drank a lot, and when he drank he would—would—” Before you can finish your sentence, a sob started to wrack your body, making you almost incapable of speech.
The lemurian—Rafayel—swims closer to you, climbing up the rocks before pulling you into him. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he soothes, petting your hair. “When the storm ends, I’ll get you back to the parent that actually loves and cares for you.” He swears, tightening his grip on you as you finally begin to calm down.
“Pinky promise?” you sniffle, holding out your pinky.
“I’ll pinky promise if you promise me that one day we’ll see each other again,” he offers, letting you ponder your next move.
“I promise,” you say. The moment the words leave your mouth, his pinky wraps around yours.
“Then it’s a deal.”
The rest of your time with the mer is much more fun. He brings you pretty trinkets and talks to you about the most random things. He also likes to paint, which is interesting; he uses a blend of coral and bioluminescence for his paints. He made a painting for you, and it was beautiful. If he were human, he’d be a millionaire.
When you had to leave, you almost didn’t want to—scratch that, you didn’t want to. But Rafayel kept insisting that it was for the best and that you’d see each other again soon. Still, you didn’t want to leave him.
Your time with Rafayel has been the best thing to ever happen to you, and as selfish as it may be, you didn’t want to say goodbye to the joy he brought you—not yet. Not ever.
You had no choice in the matter, however; he took you to the surface where you were sleeping. The last thing you saw of him was his iridescent tail splashing into the water.
After he left you there, you stared at the coastline for a while, waiting to see even a glimpse of him.
You never got it.
Afterward, you went about asking random strangers for help finding your mom.
Your mom was ecstatic to see you; tears rolled down her face when she saw you in the police precinct. She looked restless. You’d been gone for weeks—this you knew—but it felt like minutes with Rafayel by your side.
They found your father’s remains. Everyone thought that he accidentally pierced himself when the storm started. How they reached that conclusion, you have no idea. But on the way home, you knew that your dad being gone wasn’t the only loss you suffered.
In fact, losing Rafayel hurt a million times worse than losing that drunkard.
Every time you see the ocean, you look out at it hoping you can see his blue iridescent fin flicking out of the water. You never do.
And that hurts more than anything.
Losing Rafayel left you with a deep and painful ache you’ve never been able to get rid of.
You stay awake at night trying to listen for the song he used to sing to you.
Nothing ever comes.
The ocean remains cold and indifferent as you cry into her, begging for her child to come back.
Waves crash into you, but she remains silent otherwise, letting your tears become another salty part of her.
In her silence, you realize—the sea never gives back what she has stolen.
You can only hope to find it again in her depths.
——-
You jolt awake, panting, chest heavy with grief and sorrow. As much as you want to tell yourself that it was a dream, you know better. It was too real to be a dream… too real to just be an imagination. The dream was so vivid you can still smell the salt of the sea and the humidity of it.
Your breath begins to return to normal as you pat around looking for your phone, eyes blurry still from sleep. You find it and check the time: 05:05. Quite some time before the work day officially starts. It gives you just enough time to talk to Rafayel about this.
Sighing softly, you slowly rise out of bed. Slipping your feet into your cozy slippers while running your hands through your hair, you have to see him.
You have to see him now.
Every move you make is done in a flurry; you’re moving so quickly you almost forget your keys as you rush out the door. You just threw on your work uniform—you are heading to work after all. Just a tad bit early. Your uniform’s waterproof fabric rubs against the crease of your elbow uncomfortably.
Your uniform isn’t exactly the coziest thing to wear, but it’s never been this unbearable. Your skin is so sensitive and itchy.
You move quickly—you’re practically sprinting at how fast you’re trying to get to him.
When you smell the salt of the sea in the air, you just move faster, breaking into a full-on sprint.
Towards him.
And when you get there, it’s like he was waiting for you. His eyes lock onto your frame the moment you come into view, his tail moving to bring him closer to you.
“Rafayel!”
You call out, panting as you lean over beside his enclosure. Hearing you say his name makes him move with more urgency. “You remember?” he amazes, eyes sparkling as he stares at you.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you rush out, stepping even closer to him. “I just… buried the memories I had of you… due to the pain they brought me,” you stammer out, reaching out towards your mer—your lemurian, your Rafayel.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” you whisper, as you finally give in and cup his cheek, smiling softly when he nuzzles into it, giving your palm a small peck.
Rafayel’s webbed hands come up to hold onto yours. He’s trembling slightly, almost scared that if he touches you, he’ll vanish.
“I know,” he whispers. “I know, I wanted to come to you so bad.” He admits, his once hesitant grip tightened, now possessive in a way you didn’t know he was capable of, as he nuzzles into you harder.
“I never left you, I just watched you from a distance.” He assures you, his eyes gleam with some ancient power a human like you could never understand, as his webbed right hand comes up to grip just beneath your shoulder. “My very soul longed to be right by your side.” His voice deepens when he says this. “Don’t worry,” he reassured, “we’ll never have to be apart again.” His voice is almost hypnotic as he says this—it’s so soothing, and comforting. And safe.
Rafayel is safe.
Your instincts briefly tell you that you should run, that you should get away from him. But that is quickly shut down by something deep in your brain. Then he starts to sing, softly—the song he always sang for you to calm you down, the song that said “don’t worry, I’m here, you’re safe.”
Then, like a true siren, he pulled you into the depths.
The ocean shattered above you in a foaming blur, and panic overcame you. Salt water floods your senses, burning your lungs. You try to pull yourself away from the Lemurian but the more you pull the more his claws dig into you.
Throughout your struggle Rafayel just pulls you further into the depths, the atmospheric pressure increasing bit by lung-crushing bit.
All the while Rafayel sings, watching you intently. Before you finally pass out from the lack of oxygen.
When you regained consciousness you were resting in a gigantic gutter out clamshell, filled with kale, seaweed, and sponge to make it softer.
The walls of the shell were intricately decorated with pearls and gems that found their way into the sea due to sunken ships, the room the shell sat in was even more extravagant, it looked like the walls themselves were made of pearl.
Dried-out starfish hung from the ceiling with pieces of vibrant colored coral.
It took you a while to realize that you were still underwater, and even then it took you even longer to realize that you were still under and breathing.
Once you realized that fact you quickly searched your body for.. well, gills. You didn’t find any, thank god, but that just makes your mind feel with questions.
How are you breathing? Why are you in this next? And most importantly, where is Rafayel?
You rise slowly, your body still aching from the atmospheric pressure change. You were tempted to climb out of the shell but quickly decided not to after seeing that even though you were in a room, the floor of it was entirely gone. In its place was the dark abyss of the sea, jagged rocks, and who knows what else waiting for you to fall into them.
Your skin prickled as the feeling of something looking back at you from the dark arose, your breath grew panicked as something swam at lightning speed towards you. Your eyes quickly snapped shut, arms coming to cover your face as you braced for impact. Only for it to never come.
Hesitantly, you removed your arms and opened your eyes only to be hit with the most breathtaking sight.
Rafayel.
Except, he was entirely different from how he was when you last saw him.
His body was covered in colorful markings and golden jewelry.
Around his neck was a golden collar that connected to silver chains decorated with jews and pearls that circled his waist and connected to an even more elaborate piece that rested on his hips right above his tail. As beautiful as it was it looked like the spine of some poor creature.
Golden ear cuffs framed his ears and golden cuffs decorated with rubies framed his arms.
And to finish it all off, on top of his head lay a simple gold crown.
He looked like a king.
No-
He looked.. like a god.
“Rafayel” your voice echoed through the water, it sounded weird, but you could clearly make out what you were trying to say. “Yes?” he answers leaning down towards you, a smug grin on his face.
“Rafayel, what has happened to you? Why do you look so different?” You question, reaching your arm out towards him before abruptly jerking it back. “I am as I have always been.” He muses, enjoying your reaction to his new attire.
“There is a lot about me that you don’t know, but with time… you will know it all” he assures you, swimming around the shell that holds you, chirring all the while.
“Do you not like me like this?” He asks you, his tail strokes slowing as a flash of insecurity shows on his face.
“No, I like it!” You reassured him, beaming a smile at him that was quickly replaced by a look of uncertainty.
“Rafayel?”
“How am I breathing right now?” You ask voice trembling, as you look down at your hands that are just floating in the water. “Oh. That.” He frowns, voice monotonous as he says “I merely kissed you”
You blink.
Once.
Twice.
Three times
EHH?
Your face burns all of a sudden as a flush rises to your cheeks, “You did what?” You cough out, looking at him from your peripheral view.
“I kissed you.” He says like it’s no big deal, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles.
“Just like this,” he says as he starts to trail kisses down your arm, nuzzling into your neck when he places a final kiss upon your shoulder.
“Would you like me to show you?” He questions, his voice deepening. He bites at the crease of your neck, placing his right hand on the nape of it before finally pulling away.
“Well?” He asks, his tail flicks impatiently behind him as his eyes narrow in on your lips.
You swallow, licking for lips before finally deciding that yes, you do want him to kiss you while you’re conscious enough to kiss back.
So with a little bit of a grin on your face, you nodded. “Sure, why n-“ you were cut off.
A single cold, scaly, webbed hand cups your cheek as the one on the nape of your neck tightens its grip.
And finally, cold, surprisingly soft, scaled lips meet yours in a passionate dance for two.
A soft moan leaves your lips, which gives Rafayel just enough time to slip his slick, slitted tongue down your throat “MHM!” Your eyes, widen in surprise, hands coming up to push the mer away.
The mer didn’t budge, a deep, thrumming rumble vibrated through his chest, echoing like a whale song through the water around you, every time you attempted to shove him back. It was a warning-don’t move. With that and his strength the only thing you could do was sit there and whine as his tongue tickled the back of your throat.
After what felt like forever the mer pulled back not too far, he was still close enough that you could feel the heat of the water when he exhaled against your upper lip.
You took a deep breath, only to wince from the mild ache it caused in your lungs.
“You did all of that just to get me to breathe?” You huffed, keeping your hands on his chest.
“No.” He states, removing his hand from your cheek and using it to grab both your wrists. Using his hold on them to yank you closer to him, claiming your lips once more.
This kiss was much shorter than the previous one, “that was just to show you that you’re mine.” He hissed, sinking his fangs into your bottom lip.
“Do you still hurt?” He asks, removing his hands from their current positions on your body and repositioning them under your arms, trailing them down your body, squeezing your flesh as they go.
He watched you intently for any sign of discomfort or distress, happy trilling when he saw none.
“And the nest. Do you like it?” He whispered, seemingly scared of what you might say.
“I love it, it’s very soft and extremely beautiful.” You confessed, glancing around the room once more.
“It’s not as beautiful as you, my mate.” He sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist before relaxing his body against yours.
Hearing him call you his mate brings a flush to your cheeks and causes a pounding in your heart, clearing your throat, you lazily wrap your arms around his neck.
“You think of me as your mate?” You ask sheepishly, after all mers mate for life, to call someone your mate is the same as calling them your husband and well that’s kind of a big deal.
‘Mate’ isn’t exactly a word you just throw out there.
“Of course, I always have. Since we first met.” He says like it’s no big deal, voice slightly muffled due to the fact that his face is buried in your left tit.
“Truly?” You ask, brows raised.
“Then why were you such an asshole?” You question him before thinking of an even better question, “No— better yet. Why did you leave me?” Still upset at the fact that he just left you on a beach surrounded by strangers who could’ve done anything to you. At this he releases a sigh tightening his grip on you, “I had to in order to become what I am now. If I had let you stay, you would’ve died.” He confesses, clenching his jaw.
“I had many enemies back then, and I was too weak to defeat them all.” He confides, “ I needed to become stronger to protect you, so I did” he hisses out, replacing his head so that it’s nuzzled into your neck.
“If you’re so strong, how did you end up at the treatment center?” You query, genuinely curious. Mers are seen as the top of the food chain both on sea and land, the only thing that could do that kind of damage is another mer.
“Oh, that?” He hums, bored at the question. “I did that,” he confesses, entirely missing the look of horror that creeps onto your face “I knew you worked at squidling, and that was the only way I could think of to get close to you.” Once he finishes that sentence he croons, tired of all the questions.
“Wait, Rafayel” you rush out, ignoring the annoyed click that follows.
Usually when a mer finds its mate they go into heat or rut. Though it can take weeks or even months, when mates are abruptly separated before being able to be bonded together properly. It comes much, much faster.
Rafayel acting restless at the recovery center and having a low appetite all point to signs of a up and coming rut.
“When’s your rut?” You ask, brushing your hands through his hair. “In a few hours maybe, tomorrow if you’re lucky.” He’s rasps, really enunciating that last part.
“Don’t worry, I’ve already prepared food to last you through this cycle. Though I might be too far gone to cook it for you.” He croons, digging his claws into the flesh of your waist.
“You must forgive me for the way I will act during that time.” He purred out.
“I do not believe I will be able to control myself after so long without you.” Voice husky with sleep, curling his tail around you so that you’re properly cradled against him.
And so that you cannot get away.
“Now let’s rest.” He urged. Before he started to sing, each note tugged at something deep in your mind, luring you into a calming sleep.
You woke up a few hours later to a suffocating heat that made your chest tighten, which is strange considering you fell asleep next to a being as cold as ice.
Rafayel was still pressed flush against you, though his tail had somehow found its way between your legs making it so that you could barely move.
At first, you thought the Lemurian was still asleep, not yet awake to his drastic change in temperature. But then you felt it, subtle cues that you would’ve otherwise missed— his claws kneading the flesh of your waist, little flicks of his tail, his slow uneven breath against your neck.
“Rafayel” you whisper, like you’re about to turn around and see the most terrifying creature ever.
He answers you with a crooning hum that’s so loud it makes your ears ring, “ah!” You yelp bringing your hands up to cover your ears.
“Sorry, sorry.” It’s the quiet you wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t spoken next to your ear “It’s hard to control myself like this.” He hissed out, you could tell how hard he was trying to hold back just by how hard he was gripping your waist.
“It’ll get worse over time” he warns you voice still barely above a whisper.
“You shouldn’t be so close to me” he hissed, though his tail remained between your legs and his grip on your waist tightened.
“Please! I can’t-“ he starts before breaking off into a trill, nuzzling into your neck. Scenting you frantically, almost like his life depends on it, like he’ll die if your scent isn’t consuming his senses.
His fins begin to glow as his claws scrape down your body, the Lemurian breaks off into a growl when he feels the waistband of your pants, though it quickly turns into a whine.
“Please” he whines, “can I?” Is all he can say before he starts chirping, the way his claws grip your pants tells you all you need to know however.
He wants to tear them off.
He’s patient so- so patient as he waits for your response.
But patience can only last so long in a rut.
The first tear is an accident he didn’t mean to he even clicks out an apology, but the sound of your pants tearing awakens something in him.
Something that was better left buried.
With a loud rumbling growl, he tears away what remains of your pants, only to get more frustrated at the sight of your underwear. “Why do you humans wear so much?” He muttered, hurriedly yanking your undies down before growing impatient and tearing those off too.
Somewhere along the way of him hurriedly tearing your pants and under garments off he realized he wanted to see you, and not just that.
He wanted you to see him.
So in a show of strength, Rafayel quickly and efficiently turns you around, though to do so he had to remove his tail from in between your legs which itself was a pain but seeing how fast you closed them was an even bigger one.
“What are you doing?” He hisses, all he wants is to be inside you! After so many years of waiting to have you, there are so many things in the way and apparently, you are one of them.
With an annoyed hiss, the Lemurian places his hands on your thighs, “Open up, or I will make you.” He snapped, baring his sharp, fangy teeth.
“Rafayel- wait!” You cry embarrassed at the fact that you’re borderline naked in front of a beautiful creature.
And shockingly he does, taking a deep breath.
“Please!” He begs, digging his claws into your thighs, “Please, tell me I can” he whispers, a trill escaping from his throat, “I’ll give you everything you could want and more” he promises, looking into your eyes so intently it felt like he was looking into your soul.
With a deep breath you nod, snapping your eyes closed in fear of his reaction to what’s in between your legs. Only for them to snap open in surprise as Rafayel strokes a curious finger down your folds.
“You don’t have a penis?” He questions a huge, twisted grin spreading across his face as he studies the slick on his finger.
“No...” you mutter keeping your line of sight out of his general direction.
“You’re so perfect.” He chirps, placing a hand on the nape of your neck and turning your head to face him.
“You’re so perfect for me,” he whispers before bringing you into a borderline feral kiss, fingers poke at the entrance to your slick cunt.
“Wait! Rafayel you can’t-“ you try to warn only to get cut off by him plunging two scaly, clawless fingers into you. “Fuck!” You moan out, leg twitching as you try to get used to the sudden but familiar sting of having something in your hole.
“Ra-rafayel” you whine out, hole already frothing at the scaled fingers in your hole.
Rafayel only offers you a brief smile before turning his full attention to the slit between your legs, plunging his fingers into you over and over again. Watching as your hole produces loads of cream, before blessing you with another two fingers.
He slowly and carefully inserts them, knowing just how fragile the human body can be even if this particular part seems to stretch around everything you give it.
“What do you call this?” He asks, entranced by the way your hole is sucking his fingers into.
“My- my cunt?” You offer not entirely sure what he’s asking, though this answer seems to be more than enough for him.
“Your cunt” he says, his inhuman accent slipping out, “is it always this wet?” He’s amazed by how much slick is leaving you, a lot of it has pulled underneath you and a good amount has trailed down to his wrist.
“No,” you mumble, embarrassed by the way your body is reacting to the mer before you.
But it is true, of all the times you’ve been touched down there, you’ve never been this wet. It almost makes you feel icky that you can get this slick simply by being teased by this mer.
“Really?” He says it like it’s the most shocking thing he’s ever heard, “does that mean you only get this wet for me?” A possessive grin manages to make its way onto his face.
With a sinister croon, he pulls his hand back, just slightly, then without warning, he nudges his thumb against your already stretched-out hole, “let me in.” He coos, applying more pressure behind his forceful nudges.
“Rafayel,” you whine, grabbing hold of his wrist, “I can’t- I can’t.” The words are whimpered out a bit too late; the Lemurian has already slipped his thumb into your cunt.
“Ngh,” you moan, digging your nails into the mer’s thinly scaled wrist.
The mer leans in, happily trilling in the back of his throat, he places a quick peck to your temple. “You’re gonna take me so well.” He whispers, grabbing your hand that dug itself into his scales with his free one.
Before fucking his wrist into you, watching in amazement as your hole stretches itself in order to take it.
Though as much as he loved watching your hole stretch around his wrist, he’d much rather see it stretch around something else.
So with a sigh, a rather depressed-sounding one at that, he yanks his wrist out of your cunt. Bringing his slick, soaked hand up to his mouth in order to taste your wetness.
His reaction to it is instantaneous, his eyes dilate, and his claws regrow. His chest begins to rumble in a never-ending purr that gets louder when he sees your hole clenching around nothing but water.
“Here,” he trills, guiding your hand to a slit in his tail. “Take me out,” he purrs, pressing his tail into the palm of your hand.
With a bit of discomfort from the feeling of being so full and a large amount of curiosity, you poke at the slit he guided you to, before reaching your hand in.
It’s not in too deep before you feel something, ah. Scratch that, two somethings, pressing against your hand.
Hesitantly, you wrap your hand around one of them. Swiping over the tip of his cock with your thumb, watching in amazement as his cocks began to peek out of their hiding spot inside him.
“That’s it,” he whines, lightly flicking his tail as he’s overwhelmed with pleasure.
“Just touch-“ he’s cut off by a hum that’s almost as loud as the last one. Lucky for you, he managed to cut it off before it turned your brain into absolute mush.
“Ugh,” you groan, shaking your head to get rid of the ringing sound— spoiler alert. It doesn’t work.
Not that it matters, as sensitive as the Lemurian is, by the time his song did manage to sneak its way out, so did his cocks.
And strangely enough, they were the prettiest cocks you’ve ever seen.
The one on top had a wider urethra than the other, though the one on the bottom was slightly longer. Both of them were quite thick, but the one on top— ‘the ovipositor’, your mind helpfully supplied— was thicker.
The bottom one— the one meant to fertilize the eggs— has ridges running down the length of it, the widest of which rested at the bottom.
However, both were the prettiest lilac purple you’ve ever seen.
They were both glistening, covered in Rafayel’s own slick and pre-cum.
Rafayel places his clawed hands on your hips, digging his claws into the swell of your ass.
“Can I-“ he pauses, choking down his song.
“Inside, please!” He chokes out, removing his hands from your waist to bring them up to cover your ears—though it feels more like he’s crushing your skull— he finally lets out a loud piercing cry.
“Sorry!” He squeals out hurriedly removing his hands from your head, “sorry! Sorry!” He whines, clawing at your thighs.
“Rafayel,” you call, placing your hands onto his shoulders, “calm down,” humming, you pull him towards you, connecting your lips together.
“You can,” you start licking your lips in embarrassment before continuing, “get inside,” you squeak out.
Clearing your throat before finishing, “I don’t want you to be in pain,” sympathy bleeds into your voice, “use me— use my body, to make you feel better,” finally giving him permission to do the one thing all his instincts are telling him to do.
“Thank you,” he hissed out, wrapping his hands around your thighs pulling you in until the tip of his cock—the one with the wider urethra— nudges against your stretched hole.
With an annoyed hiss, Rafayel digs his claws further into you before yanking you closer onto the flared head of his ovipositor.
He moans loudly, louder than you even— when he breaches your hole, amazed by how tight it is even after all the attention he gave to your hole to make sure it was properly stretched.
Though, thanks to that and how wet both of you are, it was a very smooth glide into you.“Thank you,” he whines once more, moving his hands from your thighs to your waist.
A small thing to note about mers in heat or rut is that they go fucking insane the moment they get something in them or in this case into something, though insane isn’t a good word for it.
Feral.
Is a better one.
Overcome by instincts that tell them to fuck and breed even if it’ll lead to their demise.
Every cell in their body just tells them to fuck, cum, and breed.
During mating mers are nothing but animals, they turn every human horror story about them into reality.
Mers become these ruthless, killing machines all for the health of their mates.
That’s why there are so many horror stories of them eating humans. Human meat is exotic to mers since humans are so hard— and annoying— to kill.
It’s not only a meal but a chance for a mer to show their mate just how strong they truly are. Luckily, Lemurians are one of the few subspecies of mer to not partake of human flesh.
Though the way Rafayel is treating you, you’d think otherwise.
His mouth hasn’t left your neck since he thrust inside you, teeth buried in it so deep it almost hurt, so deep that you almost feel like when he removes them you’ll bleed out.
But fortunately for you, his teeth aren’t the only thing buried deep in you. His ovipositor feels like it’s nudging against your lungs every time he moves.
Growls leave his mouth as he forces himself to remain still, to not immediately start bucking into your cunt like a bull.
But a mer’s patience can only last so long.
And when it comes to Rafayel with you?
Well, he’s the most impatient mer of them all.
The first thrust was an accident and way too soon on your part; you’re not used to having something this deep inside of you. Your insides are so sensitive from the stretch alone; it feels so good it’s almost painful.
But Rafayel, he can’t control himself.
Not while he’s in such a wet and warm cunt, not when said cunt is gripping him like it wants to break his dick off.
So you can’t blame him for how quickly he loses control!!
Blame that cunt of yours!
It wants this! It’s taunting him with how tight and moist it is.
The next thrust isn’t an accident.
This one is more forceful; it has more power behind it like he’s trying to get your hips to merge with his.
“Rafayel!” The sound of his name leaving your mouth is the prettiest song he’s ever heard. He wants to hear it again!
No-no.
He needs to.
With a whine of apology, Rafael gave in to his instincts.
Gave into the voice telling him to make you fat with eggs and cum.
The Lemurian’s thrusts are frantic and desperate, and so—so deep. You can barely draw in enough air between his wild thrusts; the pleasure you’re experiencing borders the extremely thin line of pleasure and pain.
The only thing Rafayel did in response to your mewling was pick up speed, the pressure in his gut was becoming too much— it was so close to being relieved.
Just a little more! He was almost there!
After several more frantic thrusts, the dam broke.
And with it, Rafayel’s last shred of control.
With a piercing cry, the Lemurian dug his claws deeper into your waist and sunk his teeth deeper into your neck.
At first you didn’t understand what inspired such a change, but then you felt it. Nudging up against the rim of your already stretched cunt- eggs, “Rafayel—wait-“ you choked out, only to be answered with a low growl.
There is no more waiting, not anymore.
These eggs started developing weeks ago, he needs them out now. And who better to host them than you?
A mate who’s cunt keeps sucking him in, begging for his eggs.
And who is he to deny your cunt what it wants?
He will give your cunt all the eggs it wants and more.
The first egg is a bit of a struggle, you’re still so tight and you clenching around him doesn’t exactly help, not for this part anyway.
But it goes in all the same, all it took was a bit more force to get it inside. Then it was smooth sailing from there.
The first egg settled right against your cervix.
“Rafayel”you cry out back, arching against him, “take your teeth out of my neck and kiss me goddamn it!” You whine, yanking at his hair with your hands.
He growls at first, unwilling to give you a chance to get away. But, as the second egg begins to descend into his ovipositor and into your cunt he gives in to your demands.
Letting you drag his head from your neck to your mouth.
This kiss is more fang and tongue than any of the previous ones you’ve shared, you can taste both your blood and slick on his tongue.
The carnage of the kiss just makes you lose yourself more and more.
Gasping and moaning into his blood soaked maw.
“Rafayel” you gasp out when you feel the second egg finally nudge its way inside of you, “how many of these are you gonna give me?” The question seems to make him pause, not at all expecting it.
“Ten” he hisses, voice straining against the urge to sing for you, like true mers do during mating.
“Right- fuck” you moan, whining when the second egg finally plops inside of you nestled right against the first. “So I just have eight more, yeah?” You rush out, high on the feeling of being so full.
High on being so fucking close to cumming.
Rafayel answers you with a hiss, to focus on getting eggs three and four in you to deal with your questions.
The force behind the lemerians thrusts seems to lighten up a bit after eggs five and six are safely laid inside of you.
The first egg that was laid in you pokes at your womb each time Rafeyel thrusts inside you, it isn’t until egg seven comes that it actually starts to breach it.
The feeling has you rolling your eyes back and screaming Rafayel’s name.
Then the egg slides home into your womb the moment egg seven slides into your cunt, and finally.
After waiting for what feels like a century, you cum.
Nails tugging on Rafayel’s hair as your legs twitch and your cunt clench.
“Rafayel” you whine, fucking yourself onto his ovipositor, “more. I want more” you’re almost sobbing when you say it, crying as egg after egg enters your womb as he forces another one in.
“Please give me more” you’re drunk the pleasure Rafayel is giving you, though Rafayel is more than happy to give into your demands.
He trills and chirps as he forces the last egg into you, trusting a few more times to ensure they were all housed safely inside your womb before pulling out.
“Rafayel— no! Stop! Put it back in please!” You beg, not quite ready to let his cock go just yet.
The mer simply hisses at you before taking his other cock in hand, with a playful little hum he carefully slips it inside you. No longer the instinct controlled beast he once was after depositing his eggs.
“Don’t worry, we’re not done yet” he trills, watching as your once tense body relaxes as he pushes his other cock inside you.
“I have to make sure you’re properly bred after all” the only thing you do in response to that is whine.
Being bred sounds like a dream come true right now, being so heavy with eggs and drunk on pleasure, and full of cock.
You don’t even protest when the Lemurian starts to ram into you full speed like a proper breeding bull, just fuck yourself into his thrusts, like a proper breeding cow.
Desperation sinks its claws into you as you feel your climax begin to rise once again.
The pitch of your moans get higher as you fuck yourself onto Rafayel’s cock repeatedly, crying out when your orgasm washes over you, soaking Rafayel’s prefect fucking cock.
You whine when Rafayel continues to thrust into you, your insides are just so fucking sensitive you can’t take anymore but you don’t want him to stop either.
The Lemurian shushes you in response, kissing over the bitemark in your neck, “I’m almost there, don’t worry.” He pants kissing down to your shoulder before sinking his fangs into the flesh there too resulting in another whine on your part.
Your cunt aches and you’re so-so fucking full.
Rafayel battering his cock against your womb just makes you feel more full than you are.
And finally, after what feels like an eternity, he cums.
The feeling is heavenly, it sparks a mini orgasm out of you.
Mer cum is thicker than humans, it’s like that to keep the eggs from slipping out of its host. Over a course of a few hours it’ll harden, and you’ll be nice and full.
With a huff the Lemurian pulls out of you, gently setting you down on the sponge and seaweed bed below you. “Are you hungry?” He asked leaning over you like a worried mom, “No, just tired” you yawn, pulling him on top of you wincing at the sharp ache in your cunt.
“Sing me to sleep?” You ask, though you’re already halfway there.
“Always.” He responds, before he sings that song that lets you know that you’re safe, and nothing can hurt you.
Not while your mate is here.
—
A/n: Can you tell that I rushed through this? Anyways.. happy early birthday to the loml! Also never writing something this long ever again
Synopsis- Reader was born into a cult with the mark of the god— Zayne— they worship, the reader doesn’t believe in said god, but is forced to learn how to be the best wife for him. The thing is, he isn’t the only one marked.
W.c 7.k
Tags- Divine Zayne! Mean dom Zayne! Breeding kink! Alter sex! Sacrificial offering! Exhibitionism! Afab Reader! M!reader! Virgin Reader! MDNI! NSFW! NONCON!!
A/n: reader’s sex gets called a cunt btw… also wrote this was supposed to be my last kinktober post.. didn’t actually start writing it until the 3rd, wrote this in 2 days so.. don’t shit on my writing. This is so vanilla. (^з^)-☆
A/n pt2: don’t forget to read the Rafayel and Sylus part of this series!
You can’t remember a time when your life wasn’t dedicated to him, when you weren’t told you had to be the perfect bride for him. The god of annihilation: Zayne.
There’s no deep meaning as to why you can’t remember a time when your life wasn’t forced to evolve around him; it simply always has. Since the day of your birth, since the day the elders saw his cursed mark across your womb.
That day.
Will forever be.
The worst day of your life.
You weren’t the only one cursed with this mark; however, the others see it as more of a blessing. To be chosen by your god, no matter what it’s for, is the greatest honor of all, after all.
You were practically raised together, taught to give your god anything he could possibly want if you were to be chosen.
The day of judgement is fast approaching, a mere three days away.
By the time the clock chimes at midnight on the third day, one of you will be chosen, and the rest of you will be servants to the god and his new bride.
The others are too naive to see how fucked up that deal is, to overcome with the joy of being able to be close to their god until they die of old age.
They would be happy to eat their own hearts if it satisfied that god of theirs.
As long as he watches them do it.
That’s all any one of these god worshippers wants, to be noticed by the deity they dedicate their entire way of living to.
You never understand why exactly they’d rather let a being they’ve never even seen control their way of life, why won’t they just live the way they truly want?
Why won’t they practice the freedom that’s just a breath away from them?
That’s what you would do if you had the choice.
Be free.
Free of this bride to a god nonsense.
Free of people watching your every move.
Free to do whatever it is you want.
You dream about it sometimes— freedom— a strange concept that you haven’t been privy to since leaving your mother’s womb.
It’s a refreshing thought to have, then you awake to the rude reminder that you’re nothing but a potential bride, and that is all any of these people will see you as.
Not a being worthy of recognition unless chosen by their beloved god; only then will they bother to remember your name.
Only then will they bother remembering you.
—
It’s only when the day of judgment is near does the people here grow restless, excited to finally be able to welcome their god after waiting all their pathetic lives to do so.
They throw a three-day-long banquet leading up to the day of judgment; each day, you and your fellow potential brides are put on pedestals and watch as the people below you gawk at you.
Secretly wishing that they were in your place.
They would never say such wishes out loud, fearful of losing their heads.
The elders do not like it when such things are spoken.
Scared that their god will overhear and punish all of them, for if one of them is so cocky enough to think they are worthy of being at the side of a god, they all are.
And so they watch what they say, what they think, even.
Scared in some way.
Somehow
It’ll get back to the elders.
“Did you hear what I said?” A familiar voice chimes in, interrupting your thoughts. “What?” You ask, confused.
How long has he been talking to you?
“I asked if you were excited, you know. For the day of judgement?” He giggles, clutching at your forearm. “The others and I were talking about it, and I thought I would ask you.” He tells you, looking back at the others who are watching your interaction.
They’re always doing that, watching you. For some reason, it’s more strange than when everyone else does it; maybe it’s because of all the people here that they should be the ones who understand you the most.
“Uh, yeah… I guess I am pretty excited,” you smile, giving a fake nervous chuckle. Digging your nails into the cloth of your pants, “God, he can’t even fake it,” one of them snipes, sneering at you as the rest nod their heads in agreement.
The hand on your forearm tightens as the only person who seems to like you here glares at the other brides in your stead, sneering at them in turn. “You can all go fuck yourselves.” He barks, opening his mouth to say more, before you place your hand on top of his, stopping him.
“It’s okay,” you assured him, patting the top of his hands. “Whatever they say is entirely irrelevant now; the day of judgement is upon us.” You mock, watching as the male next to you— Elias— softened his glare as his gaze shifted towards you.
“I don’t understand how you can stomach being near him, Elias. He’s not worthy of being chosen by the God of Annihilation. I don’t understand how he was born with a mark; his parents must’ve carved it into him or something.” The same potential bride from before sneers, huffing and crossing her arms across her chest.
“Don’t worry, Yasmin, we all know our god will choose you. We have long accepted it.” One of her faithful followers pipes, smiling at her before turning their hateful gaze to you.
“When I am chosen, I will have your head, you cursed unbeliever.” Yasmin snarled, leaning back into her chair and returning to watching the banquet goers.
“God, I hate that spoiled twat.” Elias whispers to you, leaning his head on your shoulder as he turns his attention back to the banquet as well.
“Lucky for me, her bark is much worse than her bite.” You quip, knowing that people have said far worse things to you.
Since the knowledge of your non-belief was made public, multiple crowds of people have gone to the elders with complaints. Telling them you are unworthy of being anyone’s bride, let alone a god’s.
They commanded the elders to prove your mark true.
You were forced to strip in front of all of them.
Forced to stand, humiliated. As an elder poked and prodded at your mark until you bled, scraped off your skin, and watched as it healed almost instantly. The mark an everlasting proud blemish on your flesh.
Only then did the people believe that you were chosen, that you were destined for a god that you didn’t believe in.
Some pitied you, forced to be raised as an offering to a being you don’t even acknowledge the existence of.
But most deemed you ungrateful, a disgrace to the entire clan.
Someone who doesn’t believe in the god of annihilation doesn’t belong here, and they most certainly do not deserve to be offered up as a bride to him.
‘HE’LL KILL US ALL’ they’d yell, scared that the god will do exactly as his name foretells if he were to find out there is a nonbeliever amongst his choices.
They’re all fucking idiots, honestly.
—
The day of judgement is here.
The day you’ve long loathed has finally arrived.
The sky seemed to glow gold, even as night fell, and clouds covered it; the gold still shone through.
The air felt heavier, as if the earth itself knew what was upon us, what being would be gracing its soils in just a few hours.
People moved around you in excitement, trembling in their eyes, practically glowing with childlike joy.
A joy you couldn’t bring yourself to feel.
The only feeling you felt was an unending sense of doom.
—
When night fell, you were forced into a bath, one filled with goat's milk and petals of flowers you couldn’t hope to name.
Hands rubbed at your skin with soap blessed by one of the many priests here, they’re grip on your limbs unforgiving as they washed your body and hair before rinsing you down with flower-scented water, and yanking you out of the bath.
“This would be much easier if you worked with us, you know.” One of the helper say, their face is covered with a cloth. On the day of judgement, the only face the brides are allowed to see is the gods; everyone works together to make sure that rule is followed.
The brides are prepared in separate quarters and directed to separate routes to get to the temple. To make sure the brides arrive at the same time, the ones with longer routes are prepared first.
You’re forced to sit on a stool, still as bare as the day you were born, dried off by the same hands who washed you.
“You honestly don’t know how lucky you are.” The same helper tones, rubbing your back with vanilla-scented oil.
They’re not even supposed to be talking to you, and yet this one won’t shut up.
“How can someone as ungrateful as you be one of the chosen? is unbeknownst to me, nor anyone for that matter.” They sigh, moving on to drying your hair, before pausing, their hands sliding down to your shoulders.
“I mean, if I had been blessed with a mark…” they trail off, laughing to themselves before focusing back on their task of doing your hair.
You stare straight ahead, watching them play in the hair of someone you no longer recognize. Not with the smooth, perfumed skin and glossy lips. This person, looking back at you, almost looks like a doll.
A doll…
That’s exactly what you are.
Something meant to sit still and look pretty.
And by the gods, as much as you hate to admit it, you are pretty like this.
The other attendants move quickly, wrapping your body in the softest of silks and warmest of furs. Clasping jewels around your neck and wrist— each piece heavier than the last.
The talkative one hums from behind you, finishing your hair at last. “Smile more, no one wants an unhappy bride. Certainly not a god.”
You look at them in the mirror, smiling at them, “Are you speaking from experience, or..?”
They fall still, their hands clutching at their skirt.
Silence fills the room as one of the other attendants slips your feet into flats.
You rise from your seat, smiling at them once more before addressing one of the attendants, “Do we head to the temple now?” You ask, flipping your veil and following them when they nod at you, leading you to the route you’re supposed to take.
Passing you off to a guard of sorts, they consider you a flight risk, so you’re to be escorted there instead of finding your own way like everyone else.
Their head is covered too; they look at you once before grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you towards the temple.
Your route is rather short; it’s a mere ten minutes away from the place where you were readied. And as planned, all of the other brides arrive at the same time as you.
You don’t look at each other, you don’t even acknowledge each other.
Just keep walking forward, into the place where your fates will forever be sealed.
——
The temple's doors groaned as they opened, and the sound of them closing behind you echoes like you’ve just been found guilty of whatever crime you’ve committed. The brides are lined up into two rows, veils blowing in the draft that spills from the altar ahead of you.
At the center stands one of the elders, his robes as white as bone, his face covered by a hood like everyone else you’ve encountered thus far. Though it had golden sigils stitched onto it, the same ones that cover the walls of the temple.
His hand raises, as if to silence the already quiet room.
“Children of the mark,” the elder beings, his voice cutting through the stiffening silence in the room. “From the moment you were all born, you have been waiting for this day. The day our god would return to us, and find a vessel worthy of his power— of his grace among us. You have been chosen! Not for your beauty, nor your virtue— but for the divine mark engraved into your very flesh. It is not pain, nor betrayal you should feel tonight. The only emotion you should feel is gratitude.”
His gaze sweeps across the room, pausing on each and every one of you. But for some reason, it seems to linger longer on you.
“One among you will rise. The rest will serve. All will be blessed by his light.”
The once suffocating silence returns. You can hear one of the other brides, sniffing behind you. Her joy overwhelming as she realizes how close she is to meeting her god.
The elder lowers his hands, stepping away from the altar.
“ Bow your heads,” they commanded, “and open your hearts to the God of Annihilation. Let him see what we have made. What we have created in his honor!”
As soon as the elder’s final words faded, the torches along the temple walls flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then, steady once more — their flames burning a shade too bright. The air thickened, heavy with the scent of incense and metal.
No one dared move.
Some brides trembled and whispered prayers beneath their breath. Others stared straight ahead, their eyes teary as their heartbeats quickened, excitement pulsing through their bodies.
You could feel the weight of the elder’s words pressing down on you in judgment.
A warning, perhaps.
From somewhere beyond the altar, a low hum began to rise, vibrating through the bones of the temple. The marble under your feet felt alive, pulsing faintly with it.
The elders bowed their heads.
“He comes,” they said in unison.
The hum deepened, rolling through the marble floor like thunder through the skies. Your gaze drifted upward — you didn’t exactly know why. It was as if something was forcing you to. And so you did: you gazed past the altar, past the elders, to the statue towering behind them.
It was carved from the purest white marble, shining even in the dark. It stood twice the height of any man, depicting the very god who got you into this mess — the God of Annihilation himself: Zayne. His features were serene, beautiful even — befitting that of a god — but there was something cruel about the way his sculpted eyes glared at you.
Then, suddenly, a sound.
A single, sharp crack.
As if something broke.
At first, you thought you imagined it — until another followed, echoing through the temple like a whip. Thin fractures raced across the sculpture, glowing faintly, gold seeping from the cracks like molten light.
Someone gasped.
The elders fell to their knees, the shock too much for them. “He awakens,” one of them whispered, voice trembling in reverence and fear. Prayers began falling from the rest of their lips.
The cracks worsened as the marble began to fall to the ground, gold bleeding from every opening like blood leaving a fresh wound, until the statue was no longer white but blazing, radiant — unbearable to look at. Heat poured into the air, radiating from the statue. The scent of smoke and molten metal filled your nostrils.
Then the statue shattered.
Golden shards flew in all directions, causing everyone to cry out and run for cover — everyone but you. As badly as you wanted to run, you couldn’t move.
The shards froze in place moments before hitting anyone, dissolving into motes that faded into nothingness.
And there, where the statue once stood, he now stood — in all his glory.
The God of Annihilation.
Zayne.
The light died down, leaving him bathed in faint embers that clung to his skin like fallen stars. His eyes opened slowly, gleaming with the same molten gold that had poured from the statue.
He looked around the room, slowly, watching as the others cowered away from him.
Then his eyes landed on you, and the molten gold was replaced by a vibrant hazel green, then covered by a black transparent blindfold.
He walked toward you — slow, methodical. Everyone in the temple was watching, their eyes tracking his every step.
You. The nonbeliever.
They whispered among themselves, shock evident on their faces.
“There’s no way he’s going to choose the nonbeliever, right?”
I fucking hope not.
“Of course he’s not.”
“Why is he walking toward him?”
“To smite him, of course. Why else?”
“That doesn’t sound too bad, honestly,” you whispered under your breath, finally tearing your gaze away from the being heading toward you.
“Is that what you want?” a monotone voice asked, right next to your ear.
You gasped, slapping your hand over your ear as you turned toward where the sound came from. He was right there, his gaze boring into you like a drill.
“I’m sorry?” you squeaked, stepping away from him.
“Do you want me to smite you?” The voice came again, from the same distance — it was almost as if, no matter how far you moved away, he’d always be there. In your head. Perks of being a god, huh.
“Yes!” a voice yelled from the other side of the room, and finally — finally — his gaze left you. It cut across the room to none other than Yasmin.
“Why are you even asking him? He didn’t acknowledge your existence until he was forced to by seeing you in the flesh tonight!” someone else chimed in — Amber, you thought her name was.
The god glanced at her, too before turning his attention right back to you. “They think I should smite you. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked. You were getting really tired of his questions.
“Stop asking him for his input! Kill him already!” Yasmin yelled, stepping toward the two of you — only to be stopped by Elias.
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Yasmin,” he said, grabbing her forearm and pulling her aside.
The god tsked, turning toward the two of them, his gaze on Yasmin. “Do you think you command me?” he asked her, stepping closer to you.
Why was he stepping closer to you and not Yasmin?
“What? No, of course not. I am to be your wife — we are equals!” she cried, her delusions spilling forth as she tried to run to him.
“You’re not my wife,” he said, though it sounded more like a question, as if he couldn’t believe she was saying it.
“What are you saying? You’re going to choose that nonbeliever over me?” she barked, disbelief flashing across her face before she yanked her arm away from Elias and ran toward the god.
Dropping to her knees, she clutched at the god’s robes. “Please! You must be mistaken! There’s no way that thing is your chosen bride. YOU CANNOT CHOOSE HIM!” She was hysterical now, crying into his robes as she unraveled at the seams.
“He is bold for his disbelief — and yet you are bolder for daring to tell a god what he can and cannot do, just so it will appease you.” He leaned down, glaring at her.
“You’re not worthy of being my wife, let alone my bride’s servant.” He sneered, harshly grabbing her chin, his nails digging into her otherwise unblemished flesh.
“Get out of my temple,” he barked, releasing her before standing to his full height. “Out!” he roared. The doors of the temple slammed open, and something from the shadows reached in and dragged her out.
The god took a deep breath, running his hands through his long locks of hair.
“Now,” he began, unbelievably calm after what had just happened, “does anyone else want to tell me what I can and cannot do?” he asked, looking around the temple, meeting the gaze of everyone there.
“If not, it will bring you all great joy to know that I have found my bride.” He smiled — then turned his sights on you.
For a flicker of a moment, you think that you misheard. His words hang heavy in the air, echoing throughout the temple, as you stare at the shocked faces around you.
You, the nonbeliever. Is to be his bride?
Someone laughs— sharp and disbelieving— almost mocking this situation. It takes you a moment to realize it was you.
“That’s a good one,” you say, nerves clawing up your throat as you stumble away from the man, “Really funny, truly. You should be a—“
“Quiet,”
That single word stops everything, the slight breeze in the air, the fire on the torches. Even managed to stop the gossip.
You try to breathe but no air fills your lungs no matter how hard you try, it’s almost like the temple itself is holding its breath, preventing anyone else from drawing any.
Zayne stares at you for a moment, his gaze somehow more intense than it was a moment ago. Then he walks towards you, one step forward for every step back you dare take, you watch as the temple floor glows beneath his feet with each and every step he takes.
“I do not jest,” he says, voice low, almost kind— reassuring. “You were marked before your birth,” he muttered his hand reaching out for your womb— your mark. “ You have always been destined for me, even if you refuse to believe it.” His hand is firmly planted over your mark now, his voice somehow deeper.
You can hear sobbing coming from somewhere, the crowd's whispers start up once again— but, like with the statue you can’t look away.
“I didn’t ask for this” you weep, your voice trembling from held back emotions, your hands coming up to lay over your heart.
“No one ever does.” He answers, tilting his head slightly, “But the stars do not ask permission to shine.”
You hated it when you pulse quickens at his words, something deep inside your chest being yanked on, pulled from the darkness and into the light, towards him.
Your body reacts before your mind can— you shove his hand away, hard. The force of it frightens you, you were never very strong, let alone strong enough to shove a god away from you.
The God’s hand falls back to his side, the tilt of his head deepening in surprise.
“Don’t touch me” you growl, voice surprisingly steady despite the storm brewing inside you.
His gaze somehow grows darker beneath the blindfold, and you could see the molten gold from before flickering underneath the hazel green, like sunlight threatening to break through.
“And yet,” he mutters, leaning down towards your ear, “you burn for it— you burn for me.”
Your pulse stutters, “you mistake fear for longing,” your lips tremble as you say it, hands clutching at the silk of your pants.
He laughs, low and soft, like thunder rumbling far off in the mountains.
“Fear is just the body’s way of remembering the divine,” he says, “you should be honored yours still remember me.”
The words are like poison wrapped in silk. The air between you vibrates, faint golden specks through it.
Then he moves, like that of a snake. Quick and swift it sticks its fangs into your flesh before anyone can react. He grabs your wrist, his grip is firm— unyielding.
You stumble as he pulls you forward—towards the altar— the world spinning into a blur of gold and shadow. The brides whisper in awe at their God's power, some still in disbelief at you being chosen. But they all watch as you are forced up to the altar.
“Zayne—“ you cry, low and meek, but his name is swallowed by the low hum vibrating through the temple.
“Shh,” he shushes, voice quiet, almost tender—loving— though his grip says otherwise. “No amount of struggle or rebellion will change your fate, it’s time for you to accept that.”
He forces you down onto the cold stone, his strength inhuman. The impact knocks the air from your lungs, and before you can recover, he’s already binding your wrists to the carved edges of the altar with bands of shimmering gold. They move like liquid—alive—coiling around your skin until they harden.
You thrash, but it’s useless. The more you struggle, the tighter they cling.
Zayne’s face hovers just above yours now, his blindfold still in place, though you can see the faint glow pulsing beneath it.
“You were made for this,” he murmurs. “For me.”
The elder from before steps forward, facing the crowd of brides, his shadow falling across your body.
“At last,” he breathes, voice trembling with awe. “The vessel is bound. The star’s promise fulfilled. We have waited through famine, through fire, through the silence of forgotten gods— and now the cycle starts anew.”
He raises his arms, and the other elders answer in unison.
“For eons we have waited”
Their chant shakes the walls of the temple. Dust drifts from the ceiling, carried by the vibration of their faith.
“The first flame fell from his hand,” the elder continues, his voice swelling with happiness and pride. “And from it, he made the heavens and the void. From it, he made us. Yet only through him shall his divinity be reborn. He who bears the mark. He who cannot flee destiny, for destiny is carved into his soul.
You pull against the bindings, but they only tighten. You can feel the pulse beneath your skin matching Zayne’s—steady, relentless, like your heart beats in his chest instead of your own.
The elder lowers his arms. “Let the fire bear witness.”
A gust sweeps through the temple. Every torch extinguishes at once, plunging the room into velvet darkness. Then—one by one—the brides are handed candles, their wax shimmering with molten gold.
Zayne lifts his hand. Sparks dance along his fingers. With a single exhale, he breathes life into the flames. Each candle ignites, a circle of golden light surrounding the altar.
The elders step back. The chanting fades.
Zayne steps forward.
The glow of the candles catches his face—no longer hidden by the blindfold, the ashes of it still drifting from his hair like smoke. His eyes are molten gold.
When he speaks, his voice is meant for you alone.
“Before the stars bore names, I waited for you,” he says softly. “Through centuries of ash and silence, I dreamed of your heartbeat. I carved worlds from the dark to fill the ache of your absence.”
He stands beside you, his hand hovering just above your chest.
“They call this union sacrifice,” he murmurs, “but I call it return. Returning what is lost to time, to destiny.”
His fingers brush your mark, and it burns—like a branding. A forever reminder that no matter how hard you try to deny destiny, you’re his. And forever will be, for it is written in the stars.
“With this fire, I claim what was promised,” he says. “With your breath, I breathe again. With your heart, I rise. With this fire, our hearts shall forever be intertwined, our flesh made equal. With this fire, we will fulfill our destiny.”
The candles flicker violently, their flames
bending toward the altar as if they’re drawn to the divinity in the room.
The candles flare, their flames stretching tall—unnaturally tall—until the wax begins to melt in streams down trembling hands.
Then the earth groans.
The marble beneath the altar splits, thin golden fissures crawling across the floor like veins of light. They climb the walls, slither across the pillars, reaching toward the vaulted ceiling where the sigils begin to pulse with the same molten hue.
A low hum fills the air—deeper, louder—until it swells into a sound that isn’t just heard but felt. Like the heartbeat of the world.
The elders drop to their knees, foreheads pressed to the cracked stone. “The prophecy is fulfilled,” one whispers. “The god and his vessel are one.”
Outside, thunder rolls through the skies are clear. The stars blink—one by one—each dimming as if bowing to their returning god.
Zayne’s hand presses harder over your mark, you cry out as the heat begins to become unbearable, his voice is low enough that only you hear it.
“Do you feel it?” he asks. “Even the heavens remember you.”
You moan, kicking your bound feet as you try to overcome the pain radiating from your divine mark. “Hurts.” You grit out, crying when the only thing the god towering over you does is apply more pressure to the thing that’s hurting you.
“Don’t worry darling, it’ll be over soon,” the God says, leaning down to kiss your temple. “Just bear with me.”
This would be somewhat comforting if he weren’t the one causing you such pain, if the people who forced you to be here weren’t watching.
“Don’t focus on them,” he whispers into your ear, turning your face towards him. “Eyes on me, focus on me.”
Then, suddenly, without warning, he kisses you. His lips are impossible soft and his body radiates nothing but warmth, and despite yourself.
You don’t pull away.
Every fiber of your being screams in resistance, but your body betrays you.
The first brush of his lips against yours was electric, a current shooting through your veins and sparks igniting beneath your skin.
The world shatters around you.
The temple—the walls, the torches, the elders, everything but the brides—all vanish in an instant. You are no longer in the temple. You are somewhere else entirely.
The world around you stretches and bends, molten gold light and shadow dancing in impossible patterns. The ground beneath your feet is translucent, like glass infused with liquid fire. Above, the sky is alive—a swirling cosmos of deep indigo and violet, speckled with stars that pulse in rhythm with your heartbeat. The air hums with raw energy, carrying the scent of ozone and burning jasmine.
Zayne stands before you, taller, more imposing than ever, yet calm, radiating an authority that pulls the world into focus around him. Golden strands of energy coil around his form, connecting him to the shifting realm.
Around you, impossible structures rise—towers of black marble streaked with gold, spiraling endlessly into the sky. Bridges of shimmering crystal arc between them, reflecting the constellations above. Rivers of molten light flow like veins through the land, their glow illuminating the jagged, floating islands suspended in the air.
The edges of the realm bend and fold in impossible ways, creating a sense of vertigo that makes your stomach lurch. Yet, despite its alien beauty, there is an undeniable harmony—everything here exists because of him, because of his will.
Your bound legs tremble as you take in the sight. It is overwhelming. Majestic. Terrifying.
Zayne does not move closer, yet the space between you collapses, as if drawn by some invisible force. His eyes of molten gold, molten emerald, and black swirling together—a kaleidoscope of power and focus.
“You are here,” he murmurs, voice reverberating through the very fabric of this realm. “You are where you belong, with me.”
You want to speak, to argue, to insist that this is wrong—but the power of this place, the undeniable pull of Zayne, robs you of words.
He tilts his head, studying you with a gaze that is both intimate and divine. Slowly, deliberately, he leans down and presses his lips to yours again. This time, there is no testing, no hesitation—only certainty.
The world shivers and twists around you. Energy from the realm pulses through your veins, mingling with the fire of his kiss. You feel it, feel him, everywhere at once.
The stars above pulse brighter, the rivers of light beneath your feet roar like a chorus of voices, and every floating island trembles. You are no longer merely a witness to his power—you are part of it, entwined with it, inseparable.
And in that moment, as the realm bends to his will, you realize: there is no going back.
This is your home.
It takes you a moment—longer than it should—to realize that your mark is no longer burning. The searing pain has faded, replaced by a lingering warmth, a low, insistent thrum beneath your skin. Divinity simmers there, quiet but undeniable, as if something ancient and eternal rests just beneath your flesh.
The brides stand around you, arranged in an awkward circle, their candles vanished. There is no need for flame here, in a realm where the sun never sets, where the sky glows with a constant, shifting light that dances across floating islands and rivers of molten gold. The warmth from the light seeps into your bones, mingling with the heat radiating from Zayne.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, they lift their veils. Faces that were hidden under cloth now emerge, flushed with fear, awe, and curiosity. You can see them clearly, and for the first time, their expressions are unfiltered—raw, human, vulnerable.
Elias is stationed at your head, his posture relaxed but alert. A smile tugs at his lips, faint but genuine, the kind of smile that carries both reassurance and a quiet pride. His eyes meet yours briefly, grounding you amidst the swirl of power and alien beauty around you.
Amber is beside him, her face sharp, her gaze cold. Envy flickers in her eyes, impossible to mask, as they dart between you and the divine being who looms over you, unblinking and impossibly still. There is admiration there, too, but buried beneath layers of resentment and disbelief.
The other brides are less subtle—some whisper to each other, voices like rustling leaves, while others glance at Zayne and back at you, unsure whether to tremble or step closer. In this realm, the usual rules of obedience and ceremony hold no weight. Only the god and his will matter here.
“Eyes on me.” A voice echoes, and your eyes instantly focus in on him, he’s kneeling over you now. Playing with your hand bounds, his hair dangles over your face, and you notice strings of gold interwoven with the black strands of his hair.
“You’re gorgeous.” He mutters, his hands coming down to rest on your hips, “Your deviance, it’s part of your charm.” He smiles as he says it, amused by the struggles of mankind.
His hand snakes behind the silk cloth hiding your full form from him, his hands are unnaturally warm, a welcoming contrast against the cold hard marble you’re tied to.
“Do you know what happens now?” He asks, slipping your silk shirt off your shoulders, chuckling at your silence, “No?” He mocks, frowning down at you, “Now, I will claim you, fully and thoroughly.”
The binds on your limbs disappear, and so do your clothes. You’re laid bare as the day you were born, your mark shimmers on your skin, calling out to its counterpart.
Your legs are forced apart as he slides between them, keeping you open for his gaze— his touch.
“As much as you claim not to want me, your body says otherwise.” He says, his hand reaching out to play with the lips of your cunt. “I mean, look at how wet you are?” He says, holding his hand up so you can see, “and I’ve barely touched you.” He chuckles, going right back to playing with you.
“I probably won’t even need to prep you,” he hums, slipping his fingers into you, “not an ounce of resistance.” He mutters, before adding another digit.
Your face burns from embarrassment, as you watch him play with your cunt. It takes you a moment to realize that you’re not the only one watching him, all the others are too.
They watch as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, watching as he hooks his fingers to hit that special spot inside you.
The brides behind him step closer, as if trying to get a better view of his fingers stretching out your cunt.
“I’m almost done,” he sighs, almost bored-sounding. “Then we can get to the fun part,” he smiles up at you, chuckling when he sees the other bride's curiosity.
It feels methodical in a way, like this is something he does on a regular basis. Like you’re at a doctor's appointment and he’s your doctor.
“That should be enough,” he mutters, popping his fingers into his mouth.
He hums as he savors the taste of you, you’re almost positive you saw his eyes flutter.
saliva“The taste of you could drive a god mad.” He says, before wiping his saliva off onto the skirt of his robe.
“Zayne.” You whine, not liking the feeling of no longer having his fingers in you. “Shh,” he shushes, grabbing you by your ankles and pulling you into his lap.
“I’m gonna give you everything you want and more.” He promises, kissing your temple.
He nudges open the slit of his skirt, pulling out his cock— gorgeous thing, the engorged head shimmers with gold as the veins of it pulse with ichor—, tapping it to your clit.
Once
Twice.
“Do you want it?” He asks, mocking, rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt.
Listening to your whines and mews before stopping completely, grabbing your waist, “Answer me.” He demands, grabbing your chin and focusing your gaze on him. “Do you want it?”
“Yesyesyes” you rush out, feverish with lust. Your back arches are you try—and fail— to get his cock to slip inside of you, the only thing you succeed at is getting the gods disapproving tsk, “the only one who’s putting my cock in you is me.” He warns, his glare harsh as he looks down at you.
“Please, I’m so wet and empty. Please. I need it.” You beg, eyes teary as you pout up at him. “See, wasn’t that hard now, wasn't it?” He smiles, before finally— finally— positioning his cock to your hole, you try to push yourself down onto it, impatient. But he is far stronger than you.
His cock pushes into you, crushing that special gland inside you almost instantly, carving a permanent home inside of you as it pushes in.
Your reaction is immediate, your mouth falls open in an endless chant of swears and moans, your back arches as your nails find a home in the flesh of the God's stomach.
“There we go, darling.” He hums, as he bottoms out, right against your womb, right below his mark. He smiles as he notices the bulge that your abdomen has taken on to provide room for his cock, “Do you feel that?” He asks, pressing down on the aforementioned bulge.
He watches you squirm, gasping as you realize just how deep his cock is inside of you, “please,” you moan, pushing yourself down into his lap. “Fuck me, please.”
He hums, licking his lips, “That’s what I’m doing, is it not?” He mocks, tightening his hold on your waist, “You’re supposed to be a virgin, but you act like an A class slut.” The insult stings for a bit, but you’re too overcome with lust to care about it.
“Please, fuck me. I’ll go insane if you don’t.” Decorum is forgotten as you beg for the God to properly fuck you, “Pleasepleaseplease,” you whine, as tears begin falling down your cheeks.
“I’ve chosen a crybaby, so it seems,” he grunts, leaning down to lick your tears away, before lifting you up by your waist, ignoring your panicked cries.
“Nonono,” you cry, too cockdrunk to realize he’s giving you what you asked for. He shushes you, pecking your lips before dropping you back onto his cock.
“Zayne!” Came your choked out scream, whining and clawing at your mark as he repeats the process.
Your mark begins to burn again, though instead of it hurting like it did before, the pain blends with the pleasure, sending your nerves into overdrive.
“Zayne,” you whine, pressing down on your mark, moaning out at the pain increases, “Zayne.. wait, I’m gonna-“ you try to warn, but it’s far too late. Your cunt squeezes around the cock inside it as you squirt into the God's lap.
“Zayne.” You whine as he keeps his pace; rather than slowing down, he speeds up. Pounding into your cunt as if he’s trying to break something, “Zayne!” You yelp, feeling the head of his cock slide past your cervix.
“It’s time to fulfill your part of the oath.” He tells you, biting and kissing your neck. “It’s time to bear me a child.” He growls, his thrusts getting that much stronger.
“Zayne!” You cry, gasping as everything comes to a stop, as he climaxes, his head falling into the crook of your neck, his cum feels boiling inside you, thick and viscous.
The God groans, his hand gripping the marble of the altar, only for it to crumble under his strength.
You both gasp for air, sweaty and sticky from your actions.
The brides— now servants— around you step forward, taking your long forgotten clothes and heading off into one of the other rooms.
One of them linger— Elias, he smiles as he gives you a cheeky thumbs up before disappearing like the others.
“Are you thirsty?” The god suddenly asks you, lifting his head from your neck.
“No, not really,” you answer, clearing your throat, “are you tired? Hurt anywhere?” He asks, massaging your hips and thighs. “I’m fine, promise.” You mutter, bringing your hands up to play with his hair, toying his the golden strands.
He sighs, leaning into your touch, “I’ve missed this,” he confesses, breathing you in, “I’ve missed you.”
You hum, not quite paying attention, “You’ve known me before?” You question, whining softly when he moves, “Yes, I did. In a different lifetime, but that was eons ago.” He confirmed, kissing your collarbone.
“You know,” you began, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I could really.. go again,” you hum, biting at his lower jaw. “And.. judging by this.” You begin, pressing down on your mark. “You are too.”
“You really are an A class slut.”
—-
A/n: I lwk wanna make a pt.2 but I don’t know… let me know if that’s something you guys would enjoy!!
Fem!reader, husband!suguru, pregnant!reader, fluff, plussize and black reader as always pookie! 🤭 enjoy!
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
↳˗ˏˋ Jjk m.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆
“Will you be there in the morning? To love me, love me, love me?”
It was a calm and bright morning when your fiancé Suguru, woke up with an urge to cater to his sleeping wife (at least that’s what he’s been calling you since he put that huge ass rock on your finger), and while you were enjoying the comfort of your bed, tangled in the sheets with your feet dangling over the edge of the bed, he decided to cook you breakfast.
Carefully rolling out of bed, mindful of your baby bump, you and him both know that when it comes to the lil’ peanut you feel every and anything touching on you, he slips out of bed unnoticed— then proceeds to bust his ass on the pregnancy pillow you probably threw off the bed at some point with how wild you sleep. Mission failed successfully..
“Shit—” Suguru lifted his head from off the floor to look at your face, you were still knocked-out cold, sobbing and shit. He stifled a laugh as he got up, going downstairs and straight to the kitchen before he actually woke you up. Suguru opened the fridge, looking for something to make, his eyes landing on eggs and chicken strips. He found bacon too, but decided on the chicken, knowing how the smell and taste of pork had you feeling sick lately since you’ve reached 26 weeks.
He also grabbed some waffle mix, feeling that you would probably appreciate him using the waffle maker you so desperately needed at Target a couple of weeks ago. Suguru was just grabbing a bowl to mix up the eggs when he heard the telltale sign of you waking up, the bathroom door shutting. He just rolled his eyes, continuing to mix up the eggs and putting them on the skillet. You were such a diva in the morning that he just had to laugh— even before the baby.
You were currently in the bathroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face, waddling around the bathroom to grab a towel. Once you were done, you called out to your fiancé, wanting to see his face this morning. “SUGURU!! C’MERE.” You yelled at the top of your lungs, and it must’ve been funny, ‘cause you couldn’t even breathe, wheezing as he came up the stairs like there was fire under his ass, heading to the master bathroom.
“My love—” Suguru took a deep ass breath, “You called? Is there something wrong with the baby? Is there something wrong with you?” You giggled, the poor man was out of breath, wheezing more than you were. “I’m fine, I just wanted to see my man this morning.” His eye twitched, and a very prominent vein appeared on his forehead, you mean to tell him you were screaming like a chicken with its head cut off for nothing?
He regained his composure, rolling his eyes. “You know there are other ways to get my attention, right?” And you nodded and smiled, his heart melting. He couldn’t stay mad at you, i mean look at you, you’re so beautiful, pregnancy had you glowingg! He just had so much love for you and then you had to go and be the mother of his child too? He could die happy.
Or just die. He totally forgot about breakfast, but he sure remembered when he heard the smoke detector go off. Just as quick as he got up there, he ran back downstairs to the kitchen, the damn eggs were burn as shit, literally a hard puck in the middle of the pan. You just were going down the stairs as fast as you could, at a speed of about three miles per hour..
“Sugu— what’s going on?” He whipped his head back so fast in your direction, you swore it cracked. “Nothing angel-! Just go back upstairs.” He tried to get you out the kitchen, but you’d be damned if you get burnt to a crisp in a house fire, stepping closer. “That sure seems like a lot of nothing..” You rolled your eyes, taking a seat at the kitchen island to watch the new reality tv show apparently, watching as Suguru fumbled with the pan in the kitchen sink, running water over it while one hand has the dish towel, fanning at the smoke detector unsuccessfully.
Eventually he got the kitchen under control, opening a window as well. Your fiancé just looked so defeated, leaning against the kitchen counters, hands in his hair, and you couldn’t help but appreciate his effort to cook breakfast, but you both still had to eat.
“DoorDash?”
“DoorDash.”
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
Authors note: heyyy! This one is kinda short.. but I hope yall like itttt 😭 I thought it was cute so 🤷🏾♀️
Fem!reader, softdom!kento, oral (fem + male receiving), shibari 🤭, and a lil bit of honey 😓, black plussize reader as always! Enjoy pookies!!
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
↳˗ˏˋ Jjk m.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆
“Suprise! Slip my panties to the side.”
Nanami Kento was a very particular man, from the way he went about his day, all the way down to how he wears his ties. And that’s why, you— his ever so precious girlfriend were in your current predicament..
You see, Kento loves coming home to you. On time of course. So on the days he has to do overtime, he seeks out a different routine to have some semblance of control. He gets home worked up, needing to wind down, and here’s where you come in, all sweet like honey.
How could you deny Kento’s whims when he asks so politely to frogtie you, one of his favorite styles, arms behind your back, legs open and tied to your thighs by your ankles, looking oh so pretty and delectable, open and ready to cater to his whims. “Ken—” he cuts you off with a needy kiss, slender fingers finding their way to your pretty pussy, effectively shutting you up.
“C’mon love, you wanted to be a good girl, right? So be an angel and hush, let me worship you.” All you can hear is your muffled whines, and the loud squelching noises echoing off the walls with Kento’s every move of his fingers. He had those sinful brown eyes of his staring into your soul— as if to challenge you to do otherwise.
You don’t even catch it, too caught up with the way his other hand is gripping your hair by surprise, earning a wrung out moan from your lips and a smile from his. You stay quiet and let him tend to you, wringing orgasm after orgasm from you, just from his fingers, but you know it’s not over.
He spreads your legs as wide as he can while you’re tied up, pushing your back to the bed, hair tousled and in his face, and all you can think of is how much more sexy can this man get?? I mean his glasses are long gone, dress shirt partially unbuttoned, tie loose and slacks strained against his dick, and it doesn’t help that he’s eyeing you down like you’re his last meal.
Peppering kisses down those gorgeous, plump thighs of yours, taking extra time to kiss along stretch marks and cellulite, whispering sweet nothings before abruptly getting up, leaving you confused, but hushing you before you could speak. “I’m just grabbing some things love, don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you.” Kento rolled up his sleeves, fumbling with some things on the nightstand before returning.
In his hands he had a bottle of honey, the same one that you left on the nightstand this morning when you had a cup of tea earlier, and the way your face turned sour had him laughing as he sat back down on the bed. “Kento— what the hell do you plan on doing with a bottle of honey?” And he just wouldn’t stop laughing to even answer, all you got was another hush, and a look from him that had you dripping on the sheets.
“Just trying something i’ve been wanting to do, you’ll like it.” Is Kento’s only response, you start to open your mouth again, abruptly stopping when you feel the cool, golden liquid being drizzled over your thighs. The soft click of the cap closing and a whispered “itadakimasu..” unfortunately was your only warning of how feral your boyfriend was about to get. All of the earlier shit was just to ease you into it, get you relaxed, this? This was him blowing steam.

The noises you made as Kento all but devoured your thighs, biting and lapping at them just to see them jiggle, were funny to him apparently, he couldn’t stop grinning. All he was doing was cleaning up his mess, lapping up the honey, and you already looked ruined, heaving and writhing under his ministrations. When he finally got to your pussy, his eyes were yet again eager and burning into your soul.
You wiggled and whined to your heart’s content, but that wasn’t deterring Kento, you were tied up and his to play with, his to dive face-first into, his to tease and touch, ‘till your nipples were sore and achy. Kento made it seem like you must’ve been sweeter than the honey he just licked off you, his tongue was just berating your poor pussy, lips suckling on your clit, making the nastiest slurping sounds ever to grace your ears.
Every kiss, bite, lap and groan had shivers going up your spine, setting your body on fire with the need to cum on his face. You couldn’t take much more, with how he was sweet talking you, kind words and praise falling from his lips, while his actions were downright dirty. It confused you, in the best way possible, but it wasn’t until he stilled for a moment, groaning into your pussy, the sound muffled— that you came to the conclusion that he came in his pants.
“Shit. I’m sorry love—” He couldn’t even get the words out, you so undeniably turned on by the fact that you haven’t even touched this man yet, how you may be tied up, but he’s on his knees for you, let all hell loose. With a wrung-out cry of his name, you came, squirting and creaming on his beautiful face to high hell, soaking the front of his dress shirt, shit, you managed to get some in his hair, neither of you even knew you had it in you to do some shit like that.
Kento was at loss for words, just staring down at you, breathing heavily. “You just-?” “Yeah..” You sounded embarrassed almost, and he couldn’t have his pretty girl thinking she had to be ashamed of anything she does, he pulled you up to sit on your legs again, back in your starting position but moving you to the floor, thighs wet and glistening, pretty pussy throbbing.
Kento’s need to dig in your guts just got overridden by a new need to reward you, give you a small taste of what he’s been eating on all afternoon. “Open your mouth love, ‘wanna give you a taste too.” Without a second thought you open your mouth, he tilts your chin up, keeping eye contact with you as he unzips his ruined pants, and slides his dick out of his boxers. But before even moving in your direction, you can hear the click of a cap, and see honey being drizzled on his dick.
You’re stuck in a trance of some sorts, watching the honey slide down his dick, and onto the angry, mushroom tip. It slides down slowly, coating the entire length in its sticky sweetness, before you finally make your way to the tip, giving it a soft kiss that has Kento shuddering as you take him in. Your tastebuds are immediately met with the sickeningly sweet flavor of the honey, mixed with his dripping precum.
He bobs your head gently up and down his length, watching you with squinted eyes, taking in every veiny inch, groaning and reaching up to card his hand in your hair, jaw slacked so wide, he’s drooling.
But you kept going, growing addicted to how the honey and precum mixed in your tastebuds to produce the most wonderful flavor, sweet, with a perfect dash of salt. With the noise echoing off the walls, you were sure the neighbors heard, and if they had an issue, they could watch for all you cared. You were sucking the soul outta Kento, tongue teasing the tip, sliding down every vein.
And he loved it. Within a record time of 4 minutes, his knees were buckling and he was giving you something else to taste on your tongue other than honey.
You eased off his dick with a teasing ‘pop’, licking your lips, content to swallow his kids— and he just looked at you like he still needed to release steam, so you let him pick you up like a ragdoll again, and let him put you back on the bed, on your stomach, still tied up to high hell. Your dripping pussy, and glistening thighs were presented to him, and it’s the rope holding you in place, tightly bound but not suffocating, only emphasizing how good you looked on display, trembling all for him.
Thighs bursting out the seams of the ropes, but his excellent craftsmanship kept you bound, and spread open as much as you could muster while tied. Kento kneeled for a moment behind you, enjoying the sight of your pussy, the bright, scarlet red rope bound to you, the slight pudge of your stomach touching the sheets, even the way your ass was up and out, stretch marks adorning his favorite parts of you.
You of course, got impatient, wiggling to catch his attention, it never left you, but he was savoring the look of you. “Ken? C’mon..” He got up, delivering a harsh slap on the globes of your ass, you couldn’t see his face, but you just knew it was probably tore up. “Patience love, let me worship you.” Regardless of his words, Kento gently slid into your pretty, dripping cunt, meeting little resistance due to how long your foreplay was this time.
And as soon as he slid in, he was gone, taken over with the need to remind his pretty girl that while he may be a soft dom, it’s not because he can’t be rough. The bed creaks and groans at his pace, the speed of him driving into your pussy, just to hear her talk back to him, was a complete 180 to how you two were just teasing each other.
“Mhmn— Ken..” You gasp out, hands gripping onto nothing but pure air, partially because you forgot they’re tied behind your back. “Shh, just take it, you’ve been doing so well love, don’t make me take it back.” Kento said through a clenched jaw, watching with each thrust how it seems your whole body just.. jiggled. It had him going harder, kissing your cervix almost, just see your ass move just one more time.
Your eyes were rolled back, and Kento knew it by how your toes curled and how your pussy kept squeezing him tight, he knew you were gonna cum soon before you even knew it yourself. And of course he had to help his pretty girl out, snaking a hand under you to rub at your swollen clit, biting and kissing at your neck, encouraging you to cum.
“Just one more baby? How’re you feeling?” Whispering oh so sweetly into your ear, biting the shell of it teasingly, hand holding onto your hip for leverage and the other’s fingers still massaging your weeping clit. All you can muster to respond is a nod to Kento’s question, the foreplay and rough pace finally catching up to you, pussy aching with the need for your boyfriend to just fuck you senseless.
Kento works his ass off, giving you the meanest strokes, kissing and toying with you, and it all pays off, because not too long after settling on a pace that has your pussy damn near red and raw, you’re hurdling headfirst into your 4th orgasm of the evening, tears pricking at your eyes from how sensitive you’re getting. Kento’s fingers slow their pace on your clit before stopping entirely, so do his strokes.
He pulls out of you, his hand moving up and down his glistening dick as he cums, shooting it down your back, a small whisper of your name leaving his lips. Kento takes a moment to admire you, before you break him out of his focus with your wiggling, and pleads to be untied. He doesn’t even untie you, swiftly cutting the rope from you for a faster removal.
You lie flat on the bed as Kento massages your legs and wrists, figuring you had to be sore from the position, peppering kisses down your back, “You did so well angel, took me like a champ love.” He murmurs into your neck, kissing it.
“Yeah? That doesn’t help the fact that I’m all sticky and need a bath now.” You pout.
“We’ll wash up love, but i couldn’t help myself, you were sweet like honey.”
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
Authors note: life was kicking my ASS 😭 I’m glad I can finally start back uploading pookies ☺️ enjoy this— hopefully I haven’t lost my ability to write.. 💀 (y’all were supposed to get some baby oil action w/ this, but I’ve since then taken everything to do with baby oil out of my fics AND drafts with current events..) I hope this isn’t too long or short or like really weirdly worded either, had to rewrite almost 75% because I deleted some by accident… *insert crickets* Enjoy!!
I know I said that I was gonna start back posting but I js got my wisdom teeth out nd ts hurt like a bitchhhh 😭 I might js write in my free time but im more worried abt my swollen face 🫠
Y’all I don’t know why.. but lowkey I’m thinking of Simon Riley.. LIKE HOLD ON— I’m thinking of how fucking fat his cock is, and how it all but bullies its way into your gummy walls— and also how downright sinful it sounds with that gorgeous cunt of yours squeezing him tight..
Fem!reader, workaholic!shoko, a little bit of some switch action 🤭 plussize and black reader as always, established relationship pookies 🙃
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
↳˗ˏˋ Jjk m.list..ˊˎ˗ ☆
It all started when Shoko, your darling girlfriend, came home from work. Her slow shuffling of her feet, the halfway smoked cigarette in her mouth, and her dark circles being darker than usual all led to the assumption that she had a rough day. You were in the kitchen, finishing up dinner as she came up behind you, hugging you and resting her head on your shoulders, sighing.
“Hi Sho’, rough day huh?” You murmur, turning off the stove, and turning around. She nods, not much in the mood for conversation.
You caress the top of her hair, the silky brown hair of hers falling to the side of your hand. You two stay like that for a moment, enjoying the comfortable silence, Shoko burying her head in your chest like she usually does. You don’t think anything of it until her gaze meets yours, needy, but clearly tired.
“Sho’, lemme help you.” The sweet and saccharine tone of your voice was enough to lure her to the bedroom, and more than enough to convince her to lie down on the bed, back against the plush mattress. “Love you don’t have too—” “But I want to. You take such good care of me Shoko,” Your hands roam her body, deftly ridding her of her work uniform, leaving her in her panties and bra. “Let me return the favor.”
The sweet noises Shoko lets out for you, hell—the way her lips part and her eyebrows furrow slightly, all because of the way you touch, kiss, and massage her soft and supple skin, almost has you ready to fold. The best part? How wet she is for you, and all you’ve done is massage her. Looking up at her, you grin, sliding her panties to the side, and putting your thumb to her clit, teasing. “So perfect.. you’re beautiful love.”
Shoko’s gravelly moans were silenced by your kisses, before you finally decided to stop being a tease. You make your descent, peppering hot kisses on her thighs before finally lowering your head, suckling on her clit. “Ah— mhpm..” Shoko wasn’t used to being pampered, she usually does the pampering, but maybe she should be a pillow princess more, especially with way you look up at her, eyes blown with lust and greed, absolutely engrossed in her.
On the other hand, you kept yourself busy with her sweet cunt. Groaning at the taste of her, tongue hungrily lapping at Shoko’s folds like a madman, pretty digits dancing circles around her now puffy clit. “Pussy too good, want me to fuck it too baby?” You lift up from her cunt, just enough so she can hear you, fingers still working her clit.
She nods frantically, letting out soft breaths, her brown eyes following you, watching you get off the bed, reaching for something in the closet next to you, and return. You grabbed a harness, and a pretty, purple silicone dildo, along with a small bottle of lube. “Don’t worry love, just lay back and relax. I got you.” You mumur ever so sweetly as you tie the harness to yourself, then attach the dildo, the purple silicone hanging slightly with a curve.
You crawl on top of Shoko, watching her facial expressions as you lube up, and slide the toy in gently. You wait for a moment, till she gives the go ahead. “You can start moving love..” She mumbles under her breath, covering her face with her hands in slight embarrassment. You give a small nod, pulling out, then thrusting back in, earning a cry out from her pretty, glossy lips.
You continue, thrusting the silicone in and out of her diligently, teasing her clit with your thumb, making her a moaning mess.
“Faster, faster please baby..” Shoko speaks up, voice trembling with small whines, and you deliver, rolling your hips faster and thrusting just a bit harder, peppering kisses to the soft skin of her breasts, lavishing them. Shoko looks so close to breaking, her moans are breathy, eyes glazed over with lust, her pussy squeezing and squelching on the silicone so good it almost made you wish you had a dick.
“Look at you pretty, almost all fucked-out,” You coo, thumb still on her clit, working furiously “See? I told you I’d take care of you, just like that..” The moans Shoko let out were pure bliss, coming undone quickly due to your praise, but she wasn’t done yet.
As soon as she caught the slightest bit of breath, she was on you, untying the harness, murmuring. “Thank you for trying to make me relax love, but I have a hunch I’d enjoy this more.” She catches you off guard, quickly flipping you over, eyes full of lust.
Deftly stripping you of your own garments, Shoko gets to work, peppering kisses in the valley between your pretty titties, sucking on one of your nipples when she’s done. “Mhm, haah.. Shoko what are you doin’— Oh fuckk..”
You can’t even finish your sentence with the way she was on you, pushing your buttons and prying you open, all to give you a shit-eating grin when her long and slender fingers find their way to your pussy.
“I’m making you feel good baby, just like you said, returning the favor.” She muses, not missing the way your lips part in a silent ‘O’ when she curls her two fingers in your soaking cunt. You writhe under her touch, and it doesn’t take long for you to be a squirting mess under her touch. “Shoko! Wait! Hold on! Wait wait wait a minute—” Your darling girlfriend had a pretty purple wand vibrator pressed up to your clit, buzzing pleasantly against you.
“Shh baby, I know you can take it,” Shoko whispers in your ear, planting a kiss on your neck “You wanted to help me, yeah? So sit tight love.” And all you could do was whine, your poor puffy cunt was already sensitive, pushing into the overstimulation territory, no wonder you started to buck away from the vibrations, legs buckling.
“If you don’t stop running love, I’ll have to be mean, yeah?” Shoko murmured in you ear again, deciding to move her fingers faster along your velvety walls, cranking up the power on the vibrator as well, enjoying the way your plush thighs shake beneath her, and how your steep breaths make your pudgy stomach shake when she peppers kisses along your body.
“Mhm.. Sho’ I’m gonna—” You couldn’t even get the words out, her lips were on yours, tongue slipping into your mouth as you wailed, cumming so hard you swear you could see stars.
Shoko slowly turned off the vibrator as you squirmed under her, pulling out her fingers, licking them. “So sweet baby, and so good to me too.” She said so sweetly, looking down at you, her hunger satiated for now. Shoko lies down on the bed next to you, just admiring the breaths you take, relaxing into the cushioning of the bed. 
Too tired to run a bath and clean up, you two settle down in the bed, cuddling and watching a little show before bed. Enjoying yourself, you get closer to Shoko, carding your fingers in her hair.
And maybe 30 minutes— maybe an hour, Shoko turns and looks at you. “Hey love?” She mumbles so softly to you, “Yes Sho’?” Silence for a moment.. a long, almost awkward silence follows for a moment. “I think I want you to sit on my face.”
“You’re insatiable.”
☆ ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ☆
Authors note: Heyyyy.. *crickets chirping* 🥲 sorry it’s been awhile.. life been kicking my ass 🫠 but I’m trying to make up for it w/ this— if it’s ass please tell me 🙏🏾 if not then coo. Love y’all, later, byeeee!! 🫶🏾
summary: After a really shitty blind date you end up lashing out at a sexy stranger, sarcastically posing him a question he's more than willing to answer.
a/n: Toji got me feral as fuck today y'all but I make zero apologies. Especially for this trifling ass gif because wtf else was I supposed to do after watching this scene, who isn't thinking this is the real question!?!?
wc: 3.1k over 2.1k of it is literally just Toji being a munch
eta- put a cute frame over the gif ❤︎
You were sitting alone in a dive bar after a sorry ass excuse of a blind date. Drowning your sorrows you definitely needed something stronger than the seltzers in your fridge at home.
Things on your date were going well until the end of the night when the conversation turned frisky. You then whispered into your date’s ear that you wanted to ride his face.
That's when your date’s actual face turned to repulsion. Your blind date flat out said eating pussy was gross and refused.
You had dealt with previous boyfriends not wanting to go down on women so you weren't dealing with that shit again.
Nuh-uh. No way.
After not-so-politely telling him to kindly go and fuck himself you grabbed your purse and walked right the hell out of there.
And here you are now.
Alone.
At a sketchy ass dive bar that was mostly emptied.
Three shots of tequila in and a fourth setting on the table waiting for the room to stop spinning before you down it and go home.
Your head was resting on the cool bar countertop as you cursed the entire male species for their existence.
Selfish jerks. Every single one of them.
That would be the last date you would go on in a while. The only man you wanted to see was the bartender when he handed you another shot of tequila and then he could go fuck off too.
So when you felt a large hand on your lower back and a gruff but seductive 'Hey mamas' blowing hot air in your ear you fucking lost it and the full wrath of your scorn and sarcasm was directed at this man.
"LISTEN, I've just had a really shitty blind date. I just want to take this last shot of tequila, stuff my face with KFC and go home. So unless the answer is 'Yes' to the question 'Do you eat pussy?' Get the fuck out of my face, please and thank you!"
You didn’t care who heard your drunken tirade as you lifted your head to face the punching bag for all your current male frustrations.
Your jaw dropped.
The man who stood beside you looked like he walked straight out of Greek mythology. He was tall and muscular with tan skin and his black compression shirt stuck to him like a second skin giving you a detailed view.
Shit he must be a boxer, or a martial artist or something. There was really no other excuse for a man to be that ripped.
You chewed your lip as your eyes slowly trailed up his body, drinking in his statuesque form to finally arrive at his face framed with shaggy raven hair.
Fuck he is really hot too.
The man, although sexy, looked intimidating as hell as he towered over you.
You winced as you thought you were in for it with his response and you started to already form an apology in your head.
But instead of anger the man just looked down at you with amused knowing eyes as he allowed you to ogle him.
He also wore an insanely devious smirk, his scar pulling up at the corner of his mouth.
“Heh.”
From that point things were a bit of a blur as he snatched up and downed your shot of tequila, grabbed your arm and led you away to the back with you barely having time to grab your purse.
You only registered what was happening once your back hit the cold tile of the bathroom wall and saw this sexy mysterious man lower himself to his knees before you.
His large muscular hands trailed all over your body, never leaving you.
"W-What are you doing!?"
You didn't know what to think, this was all happening so fast.
Was this intimidating but sexy as fuck man that you just met, yelled at and didn't even know his name, about to eat you out!?
"Heh, I’m answering your question, mamas."
The man spread your legs at the ankles, not even bothering to lift up the skirt of your dress. Choosing instead to just stick his head right up in there, letting the fabric drape over him.
"Wait at least tell me your na–"
Your sentence was cut short as you gasped at the sensation of his nose pressing into your clit through your black laced panties.
The man wiggled his nose against your clit like he was giving it eskimo kisses. He then salaciously took a huge whiff of your scent through his nostrils and puffed out the large exhale of warm moist breath directly over your cunt sending tingles through your body.
"Fuck, who wouldn’t want to taste this sweet slutty cunt?"
He mumbled, making the comment more to himself than you but your legs still shook slightly from the vulgar compliments and vibrations of his voice in your pussy.
You were practically purring now. You could feel the surge of heat and need rushing over your body spreading out from your core.
Especially now as his tongue was dragging up the thin lace of your panties and stopped to suck at your clit through the textured material.
It felt absolutely wild.
“F-Fuck!”
You moaned loudly and quickly covered your mouth with your hand.
His hands slid up your dress to roughly dig into your hips and pull your pelvis more forward as he smashed his face into your cunt.
Your last bit of reason was telling you to stop him. You didn’t know him at all and what if someone walked in and saw you both?
However, once you feel the man’s mouth grab the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs to remove them by his teeth alone, your common sense was discarded as well.
You exhaled as you threw your head back in resignation, missing how he slyly pocketed your black lace panties once he finally had them off of you. He would be taking those with him.
You looked down at him as he rose up again, pulling up your dress. He placed a chaste kiss on the mound of your now completely exposed pussy as you squirmed in excitement under him.
“Y’er gonna be a good girl f’er me n’ do what I say, so I can eat this slutty pussy out the way she deserves, eh?”
The cocky smirk on his face never left and he reached both hands around to grasp both your plump ass cheeks, kneading them and enjoying the way your soft flesh squeezed through his fingers.
“Y-Yeah, uh-huh, I’ll be good. I p-promise.”
You breathed out those words too rapidly causing you to realize how needy and desperate you sounded. Your hips involuntarily bucked towards him and you became pliant in his hands.
God, you were nearly begging him with your entire body at this point.
But the fact was you would be begging him anyway if for some reason he found some good sense and decided this was all way too crazy to be happening right now.
Fortunately for you, you apparently stumbled on the fairy fucking godfather of pussy eating appearing seemingly out of nowhere and who clearly didn’t give a single fuck as to where he was.
His eyes looked crazed and his grin widened at your consent. He released your cheeks to roll up your dress further.
He gave it to you, but not for you to hold with your hands but with your mouth.
“Bite down on this f’er me, yeah? Heh, wouldn’t want to draw a crowd from your screams.”
Of course he is arrogant too.
You rolled your eyes but were obedient. You were too caught up in the thrill of what was happening to disobey him and have him stop.
You bit down on the bunched designer fabric.
“That’s a good little slut f’er me.”
He mockingly praised you and gave an abrupt slap to your ass.
You whimpered around the fabric.
You really didn’t understand why you just couldn’t use your hands though, but you soon found out as he threw both of your legs over his shoulders.
Your hands were needed to brace yourself, that much became obvious to you as they flew to the wall behind. You grasped for any kind of stability you could find on the slick tile so you wouldn’t topple over.
His strong wide hands wrapped around your thighs and brought your dripping core closer to his face.
A barely audible ‘Itadakimasu’ was all the warning you got before you felt his flat heavy tongue dig into your cunt.
“S-Shiiiiiiiiit!”
Exploring your pussy like uncharted territory he took his time to lap, slurp and swirl his way through, roaming in the intoxicating folds of your cunt. A fast learner, he noted what made your body twitch, your leg shake or an extra hitch in the deep moans that escaped you through the fabric in your mouth.
Wanting to hear you scream, he swiped his canine over your clit before he traced his tongue over the bud and sucked hard.
Mission accomplished as your muffled scream came through the fabric of your dress and a hand of yours left the wall to find purchase in his hair, pulling on it hard.
He growls into your pussy with approval when he feels the harsh tug on his black strands and continues working you over, pulling all sorts of vulgar noises from you as he slobbers and spits into your cunt.
The man was fucking nasty the way he devoured you like it was his last meal on death row.
“S-so, close-ahh!”
Your muffled voice told him but the man could already tell by the way your thighs had enclosed around his head, twitching against him while suffocating him deeper into your core.
The tension that wound itself into a coil in your stomach reached his limits and it finally broke when you felt his canine swipe against your clit a second time.
Your cries choked out as they clumsily made their way out of your mouth still stuffed with your drool soaked dress.
You quivered and gushed into his mouth, eyes rolling back and your other hand found its way into his hair. Wrenching his locks in between your manicured fingers as if you intended to scalp him from how hard you were twisting.
That only served to encourage his efforts however as he slurped up your juices more fiercely. You clawed at him to release you but you might as well had steel around your body as neither his bulky muscular arms nor thick head budged.
Fuck its too much!
Finally pulling black with a pop he smacked his lips and exhaled an ‘ahhh’ as if he was taking a pause from stuffing himself with a delicious meal.
“This cunt is so fucking creamy, need some more of ‘er.”
You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes at the sight of him salivating over your puffy pussy lips glistening with the combined fluids of your cum and his spit.
“Mm, you want me to stop? But she doesn’t want me to.”
His thick tongue flattened to take painfully slow licks over your slit, the man’s fierce green eyes never leaving yours as they flared with primal urges.
You never had someone aggressively eat you out like this, not to mention actually enjoy it this much.
This man was fucking insane.
“Let’s ask this slutty pussy what she want’s, eh?”
The man tilted your pelvis up, lifting your lower back off the wall so he could move close to your hole that was fluttering, shamelessly clenching around nothing.
“See that, ma? She’s winking at me, inviting me in. How can I say no?”
He sounded absolutely unhinged as he slowly extended his tongue to push up into you.
Your muffled sobs were drowned out by the erotic squelching sounds of your cunt echoing off the tile walls.
He accelerates you to the point of overstimulation with such vigor that you easily cum on his tongue again for a second time.
This time your legs trembled more violently and your heels dug into his back causing him to grunt deeper into your pussy. The sharp digging of your heels into his back did nothing to discourage him as his tongue fucked further into your hole without mercy.
All you could do was wither in his clutches as he rolled his tongue inside you throughout the high of your second orgasm.
You were panting and your jaw became slack as you slowly lost the ability to hold your dress in your mouth any longer. Releasing it along with a well of drool that once freed, overflowed down the corners of your mouth to drip down your neck and chest along with your tears.
“One more mama, I know this slutty pussy can give me that at least... Tch, and take off that dress if ya ain’t gonna hold it, ya? Let’s see those pretty tiddies, eh?”
The man’s distasteful and outright crass words should have turned you off.
But his filthy tongue not only drains you of your juices but also any kind of restraint or decency you had left. His brash words only make you all the more aroused.
Obeying him once more, you rid yourself of the dress pulling it up and over your head, not caring where it landed.
You would rather it off than in your mouth anyway. Opting to not wear a bra with this dress you were now naked save for your heels.
“Nice tits.”
You rolled your eyes as his crass compliment but wore a small grin yourself as you playfully shook your shoulders allowing them to jiggle down at his face.
He chuckled at your display but his voice quickly turned devious again.
“Make sure y’er holding on tight this time, eh?”
You strengthen your grip on his raven locks but you still weren’t prepared for when he rose up off the ground entirely to stand, completely shouldering your weight.
“ACK!!”
The altitude change wasn’t something you expected. He held you up off the wall like you weighed nothing to him and although you felt secure around the lower half of your body, an arm still flailed around for balance.
Thankfully, you discovered you could hold on to the pipes that hung from the low ceiling yet it creaked as you held on.
Shit, you hoped it would hold.
Seeing you secure yourself the man wasted no time enveloping your cunt with his hot mouth. The gravity of your weight pushing down your core on his mouth had him more needy for air and you felt the pulses that rocked through you from his rough exhales with fervor.
“Fuckfuckfuck!”
It proved to be much more difficult to keep your cries of pleasure contained. But you bit your lip to try to suppress yourself into a whine instead of a scream.
Although that all went to shit once you saw the reflection of the two of you in the dirty floor to ceiling bathroom mirror.
You could still clearly see your forms and the way you looked. Your face completely blissed out, sweating and panting as the mad man did everything but rest while he was between your legs, circling and suckling as if he personally challenged himself to drain all the fluids from your body.
You tighten your hold on the pipe and experimentally roll your hips forward and your other hand, threaded behind his head through his thick hair pulls him closer as well.
“G-God-f-fuck-shiiiiit!”
You didn’t care who the fuck heard you this time, as you watched yourself in the mirror thrust your hips forward to fuck deeper into his face, building up a rhythm.
Your tits bounced up higher with your back arched as your mouth hung open spilling out curses, cries and moans alike. The scene was better than a porno, so hot, so feral, you half wished someone was recording this.
Absolutely loving the thought of you losing yourself to his depravity and you taking on a more aggressive role, the man growled with approval once more into your cunt as his tongue continued to unravel you.
Your movements became more frantic as you could feel your third and most intense orgasm yet approaching. He eagerly relinquishes more control to you as he allows you to grind his face farther into your pussy.
You shuddered as you felt a shock of electricity wreck your entire being, assaulting all of your senses with the feeling of pure ecstacy. Your toes ached from the intensity of their curling in your heels and your mind only filled with the sounds of the sloppy gurgling noises from the man below you literally being smothered by your cunt as you rut into him.
It wasn’t just the cheap fluorescent lights of the bathroom eye-level with you when white filled your vision and you felt yourself release to convulse and squirt all over the man’s face.
If you weren’t holding onto the pipe above for dear life, you’re sure you would have fallen.
After a few moments the man easily shifted his hold to your waist and brought your feet back to touch the ground. However, you were still more than a bit shaky and a few steps backwards had you bumping into the wall and sliding down to the floor.
Your fluids leak out into a small puddle on the ground between your sticky thighs.
The man whose name you still didn’t know slicked his hair back into place as he glanced down at you, disheveled and heaving on the floor.
“Gochisosama, mama.”
He smirked even with his face completely drenched with your nectar. He brazenly circled his tongue around his lips and corners of his mouth to greedily lap up any of you remaining that he could before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Name’s Fushiguro. Toji. Heh, and yeah ma as ya now know, I do eat pussy.”
You gave a weak chuckle at that but your eyes were glossed over and you were fading a bit. You can’t recall the last time you came that hard at all, let alone from just getting your pussy ate.
“Now, I gotta question, ma.”
Your body, still vibrating with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm has left you non-verbal so you simply nodded your head for Toji to continue.
Toji crouches down to your level which reveals his monstrous and fully bricked cock straining through his sweats.
Your eyes widen when you see it and you knew then everything about this man named Toji Fushiguro was fucking ridiculous, in both size and demeanor.
Lifting your chin so you could look him directly in his eyes, Toji slid his thumb over on your bottom lip.
The appendage bullied its way past your lips and pressed down on your tongue. Your mouth opened wide and he inspected you like he was a doctor examining the back of your throat.
Pleased with what he saw, Toji gave you a shit eating grin.
a/n: Istg I'm working on part 2 of Werewolf!Toji but theres no pussy eating in that and he needed to eat some pussy today. I deserve that and y'all deserve that too.
So here. Come and let our feral hunger feast together as Toji feasts on us.
11/4: a quick afterthought of what happened next.
Reblog to spread the depravity as everyone needs to have this crazy ass header pop-up on their timeline lmfao. But likes and comments are appreciated all the same!
tags of depravity please don't send me away for this one: @callm3senpaii @ryomens-vixen
Y’all. I know this is an older work but PLEASE READ TS. FYEEEE!! SHE DID HER THANGGG 🤭🤭 also hopefully this can hold y’all over while im still trying to write and finish my drafts 🫠🤷🏾♀️
