Pray for Sin
Warnings: MDNI, sex, virginity loss, corruption kink, temple sex, oral (f rec)piv sex, dirty talk, slightly rough sex, god/goddess worship, slight dubconA/n: I had to. How could I not? Kinda rushed, not proofread in any way, I'm sorry.Pairing: goddess! reader x God of Annihilation ZayneWord count: 3.9k
It was desperation that had driven you to the temple. Your people, your devotees, all kneeling at your feet, begging for their lives, for liberation from their suffering. Your heart ached for them, yet you knew your powers in their current state weren't enough to save them.
An eerie silence settles as you enter, your footsteps echoing off the tall pillars, wondering if you’d made a mistake. You shouldn’t be here. There were simply some gods that shouldn’t be reckoned with. Despite being shielded by divine favor, there were too many variables. No one enters this temple without preparing to make a sacrifice, but it was difficult to imagine what you could offer to the God of Annihilation. His whims and wants varied, but you steadied yourself as you walked into the depths of the temple, a wineskin filled with sweet pear juice secured at your hip. Whether or not this was sufficient was questionable, but it was better than turning up empty-handed.
As you finally reach the inner sanctum, you’re met with wonder as you see a large pool of water sunken into the middle of the floor. The water is deceptively still and calm, as though trying to entice unsuspecting devotees into its depths before making its demands. You hesitantly make your way towards the edge of the pool, unsure how to summon him. Despite being a goddess yourself, no one had taught you the decorum about calling upon another god for favor, especially not one as high-ranked as the God of Annihilation.
Kneeling at the edge of the water, you gaze into the unbroken depths, your reflection staring back at you, wary and suspicious. Keenly aware of the potential endangerment of your current pose, you prostrate, pressing your forehead against the stone rim, your eyes downcast.
“God of Annihilation, Lord of Wondrous Blessing, Traveler of the Dark. I call upon thee to hear my supplication and bestow your favor.”
Your heart races, pounding in your chest, until you hear it in your ears, waiting. For a moment, nothing. Wondering if you had failed, you’re about to try again when you notice a pair of amber green eyes staring at you from the surface of the pool. Taken aback, you nearly stumble as your reflection is replaced by an unknown face, sharp and chiseled as though hewn from marble, as something begins to rise from the water.
All you can do is gape at the sight, as a man emerges from the watery depths, towering over you with his broad frame. His hair was as dark as night, flowing like silk, enmeshed with gold, slipping over his wide shoulders as it cascaded down his back. Those mesmerizing eyes appraised you coolly, smirking at your trembling form. Unwilling to appear daunted, you straighten and train your eyes onto his face, forcing your features into one of determination. When he speaks, your heart nearly stops at the deep calm of his voice.
“Who had called upon the God of Annihilation? Identify yourself, goddess.”
His long fingers reach for your chin, tipping your face upwards as his eyes bore into yours, flickering like droplets of the sun, the markings on his skin tracing forgotten stories of the past into his body. The thumping in your chest grows traitorously louder at this action, causing your cheeks to flush under his gaze, but you remember the desperate calls of your devotees, and sensibility floods back into you.
“It is I, the deity of Niava. I’ve come on behalf of my people,” you say firmly, though you can’t help but want to look away. “I seek an audience to request for power.”
At this, the god releases you, standing at the edge of the pool, droplets of water sliding down his upper torso. He crosses his arms and waits expectantly, and you hasten with your explanation.
“My people need respite. I wish to grant it to them, but in my current state, I cannot.” You look up at him beseechingly. “The wars of the past have weakened me. I require power. Urgently.” Hope fills your veins as the god thoughtfully rubs his chin. His eyes fall upon the skin fastened at your hip.
“You’ve come with an offering, I assume,” he says, and you nod, untying the hide and stretching out your hand.
“If it is not sufficient, then please tell me what else you would require, my lord,” you say as he reaches for the wineskin, uncorks it, and takes a swig. You observe him keenly, watching for signs of displeasure, and are surprised to see his eyes widen slightly, before tipping his head back and drinking deeply, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow.
Relieved, you continue. “Would it please you then, to grant this favor?”
The god lowers the skin and licks a stray droplet of juice from his lips, and for some odd reason, the gesture sends a skitter of electricity running down your spine. You found yourself wondering how it tasted, both from the wineskin and his mouth. Realizing it was borderline inappropriate, you force yourself to focus.
The god hums, tapping a finger on his scarred and corded forearm before responding. “Is that your only supplication?” he asks, his tone almost melodious, and you nod.
“Goddess, have you ever been part of a power transfer ritual before?” he asks, and you notice the ring of amber starting to darken, swallowed up like misty smoke.
“I have not. There has never been a need for it.” At those words, the god’s demeanor shifts, almost with excitement.
“I see. So you haven’t been prepared, little one.” He rests the wineskin against the base of one of the pillars before moving closer to you. You couldn’t pull away, helpless in his alluring trap as his chest almost touches yours, the heat of his skin searing into your body.
“Don’t patronize me!” you say defensively, offended by his nonchalant proximity. “I might have never needed to, but that does not give you the right to forget my divinity. I am a goddess in my own right. Do not underestimate me.”
“Of course not. All I meant was, you’ve never been taken. You’re naive, untouched.” His fingers thread through your hair, sending tingles rippling through your scalp and neck. “I’m not certain I would want to bestow such power onto someone like this.”
Growing impatient, you pull away, trying to gather some semblance of resolve. The purr in his voice was forbiddingly provocative, a gentle push towards an unknown abyss.
“My lord.” It comes out from between clenched teeth. “If there is something I am missing, please do not mistake my unfamiliarity with inexperience. I am young, but I have successfully guided and won many battles. Please enlighten me, then we can proceed with how I can convince you to grant me this favor.”
You couldn’t understand why he was behaving like this, as though wondering if he should divulge the information or not. His lips have curved into an infuriating smile, and though it softened his features and made him smolderingly handsome, it did nothing to disarm your sense of dread. There was something amiss, but you couldn’t understand what. He seemingly thinks, tapping his fingers against the smooth rock as he does so. After a moment of silence, he explains.
“Goddess, I’m not questioning your abilities, nor am I saying you’re unworthy of seeking my favor. What I’m trying to say is the power ritual involves intimate joining for transference. You come to me, a virgin and unaware of what the ritual entails.” He leans against the base of an altar, watching for your reaction.
You blush at the mention of your virginity, but plough on. “What if I am a virgin? Will the ritual not work?” At this, his expression softens.
“No, little goddess. It will work. But do you understand what I mean by intimate joining?” Amused at your innocent reaction, he explains. “It means we will have to consummate our relationship as god and goddess. Only then will you be able to receive my power and fortify yourself.”
“Con-consummate?” You stutter as you repeat the word. Never, in any book nor conversation, had this come up. You suddenly feel shy to even look at him, averting your gaze back to the water.
“Yes. You must give all of yourself to me. Willingly and freely. If you do not wish to proceed, then I’m afraid you’re at a stalemate. Power rituals require coupling of the parties involved.”
Feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you settle down on the steps that led into the water, feeling exposed even though the god was some distance away. His gaze felt like it could see under your clothes, and your nervousness was steadily peaking.
What were you supposed to do? You remember the desperation of your devotees, their lives crushed and their offerings strewn about at the altar of your temple as they begged you for salvation. Their disappointment was crushing. Isn’t that why you came here in the first place? Leaving without the blessing was not an option.
Squaring your shoulders, you look back at the god who was now lounging leisurely, watching the rays of sun that streaked in through the open slats in the ceiling. “My people are suffering. I made a promise to them. I cannot go back empty-handed.”
You take a deep breath, feeling tension knot in your stomach. “Do as you must.”
At this, the god’s face softens, settling like a mask over the perfect features. He gets to his feet and approaches you, his hand lightly caressing your shoulder.
“Goddess, please don’t look so repulsed. I understand these circumstances are not what you had expected, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find pleasure in it.” He cups your pink cheek, and feeling like fireworks had gone off in the pit of your stomach, you turn to face him, looking at the stern, beautiful face that was your people’s salvation.
“My lord,” you say quiveringly, and he lays a finger on your lips, shaking his head.
“You can drop the titles. Please. Say my name. You’ll be sighing it for the next few hours after all.” He blinks, and you’re startled to see a hint of tenderness growing in the depths of his beautiful eyes. “Zayne.”
The name sounds mysterious coming from his lips, and you swallow as he starts brushing away hair from your neck, tickling you with each movement. “Zayne.” You repeat, and it rolls off your tongue in a strangely intimate manner.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, and he gathers you against his chest, now stroking down the length of your back, your head coming to rest against him. You feel the hardness of his pecs, the rush of his heart as it beats steadily under your ear, like a secret poem being whispered to you.
“Don’t be scared. I promise it only hurts a little.” With that, he tips your face to his and kisses you.
The world stops for a brief second, then starts a slippery descent into the unknown, where all you could feel was Zayne’s body against yours, the heat of skin, and the taste of his lips. The faint flavor of the sweet pear juice lingered, and as his mouth coaxingly brushes against yours, it opens naturally, allowing for the gentle invasion of his tongue. You sipped, fascinated by the smoothness and moisture. A groan escapes Zayne’s mouth at your sweet offering, and his fingers tangle into your hair as he deepens the kiss, greedily sampling everything you gave him.
The air becomes balmy inside the temple as your bodies start to react, the chemistry and tension growing steadily as you kiss him, keenly aware of how your body attunes to his. His scent permeates you, something fresh and minty, while each brush of your clothes against his bare chest ignites something deep within your belly, growing hot and fraught with tension. Zayne breaks free of the kiss and presses his forehead against yours tenderly, the long locks of hair contrasting against yours as he slides his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling as he reaches your collarbone. Rushes of heat keep shooting through you as you try to comprehend.
This was a ritual? Was it supposed to feel this naughty yet desirable at the same time? A breathy sigh leaves you as your hands anchor themselves on his back to ground yourself. The earth was tipping over, taking you with it, and you had no hope of finding your way back through the tunnel. At this, Zayne buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and tickly as he scoops you into his arms. You instinctively hold tight as he carries you over to the altar and settles you on it. From this angle, he looked dominating and powerful, his height dwarfing you as his hands pressed against the altar.
“You smell delicious, goddess,” he growls lowly, nipping your ear and causing you to shiver. Curiosity fills you as you raise your hands and put them on his chest, feeling him tense at the touch. The strong sinew ripples under his skin, and as you stroke him, a grunt of surprise escapes him, making you pause.
“Don’t stop.” He encourages, emboldening you, experimentally resuming your maddening touches. Zayne tries not to fold at the innocence of your exploration, but your soft, small hands are making him melt like snow under the sun. He grits his teeth as he reins in the overwhelming desire to shove you onto your back and take you like a stallion driven with need.
But he stills, knowing he’d regret it if he did, feeling pathetically like a puppet under your touch. How ironic that the God of Annihilation was crumbling into dust under this inexperienced maiden’s fingers. His hands move to your waist, then climb higher to enclose your ribcage, then cup your breasts, drawing a gasp of shock from you. You feel your nipples harden underneath your clothing, responding to him as he strokes them with his thumbs.
You moan lowly, feeling pleasure building in the pebbled peaks, feeling hot as those small touches stoke the fire in your belly. An unexpected throb becomes present between your legs as he works on your nipples, your sex pulsing with each caress, until you’re soft and pliant, your fingers gripping the edges of the altar to keep from going insane.
Noticing your tension, Zayne chuckles, nuzzling your neck. “It’s ok, goddess. Temples are for worship. Your noises are nothing but hymns.”
His lips brush against a sensitive spot on your neck, sucking a mark onto it while his hands begin to undo the intricate laces that held your dress together. You’re vaguely aware of what happens during consummation, but the thought of being naked suddenly makes you shy. Before you can protest, Zayne has loosened all the fastenings, and the bodice slips from your chest, leaving your upper torso stripped.
Zayne’s eyes are like a predator now, pupils dilated and hungry as he takes in your chest rising and falling rapidly, the cute flush that stains your skin, and the way your nipples stood at attention under his care. With a groan, he dips his head and pulls one into his mouth, giving it a gentle suckle, flattered when your hands tangle into his hair. Your breath comes out in shallow pants as desire grows from within, threatening to burst through like a dam. Your core feels heavy and swollen, the labia chafing against your undergarments as you shuffle under Zayne’s skillful mouth.
When he switches to the other breast, Zayne hikes up the skirt of your dress, draping it on the altar as he squeezes the soft, pillowy flesh of your thighs. A lick of fear runs through you, but when all he does is massage your mound, you relax, welcoming the tiny bit of friction felt on your hidden pearl.
“Feeling good?” His voice asks in a seductive growl, and you nod helplessly, feeling your thighs part for him as his hands continue to move towards the junction between your legs. You squirm in alarm when you feel him start pulling your undergarments down, trying to fight, but he holds firm, keeping you seated at the altar.
“There’s no shame here, goddess.” He whispers into your ear, keeping you pressed against his chest. You bury your head to calm yourself, feeling sensitive and tingly everywhere. He parts your thighs and starts to kneel, and you’re unable to look at him, feeling vulnerable and exposed.
“It’s time for you to offer a libation.”
His fingers indent into your thighs as he keeps them open, spreading your moistened sex apart, feeling like a starved man as he catches a whiff of the sweet nectar hidden between. He kisses both your inner thighs, teasing, creating anticipation until finally, his mouth makes contact with your labia. You jolt, the sensation alien and unfamiliar, wondering what he is doing, then feel a smooth, swiping motion on your slit. The sound that leaves your lips is the sweetest psalm, and Zayne is heady from the taste of your cunt. He laps greedily, feeling around inside the velvety channel until his tongue catches onto the little bundle of nerves at the apex of your sex. He licks gently, encouraged when your hips buck, pushing more of you into his mouth. A delicious feast, just for him. He slurps, nudging the little nub until you’re lying back on the altar, sweat dripping from your body as your eyes squeeze closed, unable to process the sensations building inside.
Your voice keens, but Zayne doesn’t show any signs of stopping, his tongue dipping into your entrance to catch the fresh drops of honey before swirling his way back to that spot that makes you quiver like a leaf. Just when you think it couldn’t get better, you feel your sex being pushed into, and cry out as a finger slides smoothly in. It was uncomfortable, but not painful, and you wonder why this is happening, but as the digit crooks and starts pistoning in and out of you, you forget why you questioned it in the first place.
Your sighs fill the temple’s chamber as Zayne now controlled you. He held your pleasure in the palm of your hand, and you were content to remain there. Your cunt was sloppy and leaking moisture onto his fingers, and Zayne feels his erection brushing impatiently against his garments, waiting to be freed. Soon, he thinks to himself as he suckles your bud into his mouth, pulling gently until you cry out, arching desperately towards him as his finger continues to stroke that patch deep inside your gummy walls.
He feels your channel clenching rhythmically around him and redoubles his efforts. You’re so close, he can feel it, and he was desperate to see you fall apart for him.
Your brain is in a haze, body reacting on its own accord when you feel the coil of heat in your belly snap. It was a dizzying feeling, a kaleidoscope of sensation as it exploded from you, tearing the breath from your throat as all your muscles started to spasm pleasurably, wave after wave of delight rippling through your system. As it starts to subside, you’re aware of being pulled against something warm, and when your eyes open again, Zayne is cradling you against his side as he strokes your hair. The gesture was sweet, and his eyes were fixed on your face, watching you for signs of regret, but none were there as you instinctively snuggled into him, feeling content.
“It’s not over yet,” he clarifies, hoping you weren’t under the impression it was done. When you nod, he helps you lie back and frees himself from his clothes. You look curiously as his erection pops up, hard and leaking fluid from its tip. You tense as he positions himself at your entrance, gasping when he starts to push in.
“Ssh.” He soothes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Calm down. It hurts less.” You whimper as you feel him notch in, and this time, push past the tight ring of muscles into your virgin body.
“Feel this, and remember what I’m giving you,” he murmurs, and then fully sheathes himself. You cry out at the stretch, your walls splitting apart to accommodate him. Unprepared for the sting of pain, you struggle, tears tracking your cheeks. Your hand pushes at his shoulder, trying to free yourself, but he grabs it, along with the other, and holds them above your head, preventing your escape.
“Focus. Let your body accept mine. The ritual won’t end because you want it to. ” Your eyes crack open to find his, locking onto them as he waits for the pain to subside. As it lessens, your struggling stops, and Zayne begins to slowly thrust, his hips meeting yours as he sets up an erotic rhythm that brings a fresh wave of desire in your veins. The pain fades, turning into a sweet ache that has you arching in his embrace as he takes you. Your breathing syncs with his, and the movement starts to feel natural as he drags his cock along your sensitized walls, stirring up delicious feelings deep within.
From lowered lashes, you watch him pant, sweating as he couples with you, then the shadowy room is suddenly cast into light. You stare in awe as the gold patterns on his skin begin to glow, like tales from the past coming alive as he moves. His eyes were also aflame, glittering with power, gazing at you like you were the most precious thing on earth. It was hypnotic, and even as you moan and shiver with pleasure, you fall deeper into the chasm, taking him with you.
As the glow intensifies, you feel it seeping into you, his power burning away the doubts and fears you had about not being able to provide for your people. It strengthens you, and you no longer feel the initial awkwardness of being taken by Zayne. You moan and whimper unsashamedly, wrapping your legs around his waist for support, roused when he grips your upper thighs to keep them locked around him.
His movements grow erratic, hips slamming into you, pushing himself deeper within your soft wetness, as he finally allows himself to claim you wholly. His markings grow blindingly bright as he finishes, teeth gritted, and his nose scrunching up in orgasmic ecstasy as thick ropes of his seed spill into your womb.
You feel him emptying himself, the warm gush of liquid both exciting and confusing. As he pulls out, he carefully lowers your legs and pulls you off the altar. On wobbly legs, he leads you to the pool’s edge and cups his hands, filling them with water and bringing it to your lips. You sip greedily, feeling parched and uncontrollably exhausted. After a few more sips to quench your thirst, you remember nothing.
When you finally come to, you’re wrapped in a silk shawl, head resting on Zayne’s bicep as he leisurely strokes your side. You roll over, observing the amusement on his face when you cup his cheeks.
“Zayne…thank you. I can face my people now and act as the leader they deserve.”
“Thank you?” he huffs and draws you closer. “Goddess, are you aware of what you’ve awakened?”
You look at him, puzzled. “No?” you say honestly, and he chuckles, kissing you deeply.
“We’re caught in a cycle now. Between us…there is nothing but endless taking.”
“Taking?” you ask, but Zayne shakes his head, his hair spilling over his shoulders and onto your waist.
“Don’t worry about it. And goddess…from now on…you’re only to come to me when your power needs replenishing.”
© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating
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