Fem reader is preparing to be sacrificed to a volcano god instead of the food people usually offer. The god isn't going to kill her but is fucking her on the alter.
AN - Sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy this! You guys will have to let me know what you think of it <3
WC - 2,120
Content - worship kink, sex on the altar, praise, fingering, temp play, p in v
“Devotion.”
Lava God x Fem!Reader
No amount of mental preparation seemed to strengthen you to be a sacrifice. As you stood in the temple dedicated to the god your people worshipped, you desperately attempted to part with the distant fear that gripped you.
Xaora— god of molten heat, of chaos and rebirth, lava and volcanoes— had long since began rejecting tributes of food and sentimental belongings, and your island took the impact. Cattle falling under contagious illnesses, crops shriveling under abnormal heat. The final push for the civilians was when the volcano in the center of the island started to become active after centuries of dormancy. Earthquakes like nothing you’d experienced in your life, earth beneath your feet swelling with a heat nearing unbearable.
After an emergency meeting, the elders made the grim decision to offer over one of their own. Every other option had proved futile.
You helped around the temple occasionally, and knew the elders well. Your devotion had been taught to you from a young age, and Xaora was a large piece of your daily life. When they made the announcement to the rest of the island, outrage broke out. No one was foolish enough to offer themselves, to die for something that may not even please the god.
Perhaps that is why you stood before his altar in the dimness of waxing candles. You’d woken up from an uneasy sleep, flashes of natural disaster laying beneath your eyelids. Before you even woke up completely, your feet carried you all the way to the temple at the center of the island. It looked tiny beneath the looming volcano behind it.
You let out a deep breath, sinking to your knees in front of the statue carved of him from igneous rock. A silver ceremonial knife rested in the palms of your hand, the front of your nightgown untied to reveal only a small sliver of skin where your heartbeat thrummed aggressively.
Letting your eyes fall shut, you exhale deeply, willing the tension to leave your body and mind. Your hands did not shake when you pressed the tip of the sharpened blade to your chest.
“I offer myself to you, Xaora. So that your appetite may be sated, and my people might be blessed with your love once more,” you breathe the words with conviction, feeling a surge of confidence.
Within seconds of you speaking, the world around you exploded with intense heat and bright light. You curled in on yourself with a gasp, blacking out for a moment.
When you came to, you were still kneeling. The knife no longer pressed to your chest, but was hanging loosely in front of your eyes. An alarmed yelp ripped from you when you saw the hands holding it.
Where Xaora’s statue had been before now stood a hulking figure of the same god. He resembled a man, but his form made up entirely of igneous rock and slowly flowing lava. His eyes were a searing orange, and they were currently fixated on the ceremonial knife. Your presence not yet acknowledged, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and closed his grip on the knife. It melted between his fingers and singed the carpeted floor in front of you.
A noncommittal sound of confusion sounded from you, which finally drew his gaze to you. His attention carried an imposing heat that dragged lazily over your body. You couldn’t look away from him, though. The sight of him before you, only being able to see him through statues and stories, stirred that devotion in you. He was beautiful in a dangerous manner. Chaos incarnate.
“Do you speak the truth?” His voice sounded like the bubbling of the volcano— a low rumble that shook you from the inside out. “Offering yourself to me.”
Your mouth fell open, yet the words lodged themselves in your throat. Xaora simply watched you, his form constantly shifting in formation. Lava would harden into rock while rock heated and melted. He towered over your kneeling body, making you feel minuscule in comparison.
When you didn’t answer for a long time, he clicked his tongue again. His hand curled around your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. It was a hot touch, but you noticed brightness of the lava that made up the limb had dimmed. He was controlling how much heat he touched you with. You hadn’t expected it to feel as gentle as it did when he tilted your face up. His thumb ran over your lower lip curiously.
“If you do, you shall not die. I never asked you mortals for death, only for life. A salve to soothe the ravenous hunger that plagues me. Do you understand?”
As he spoke, his hand slid from your chin to cradle the back of your neck. At some point he had shrunk to the size of a human man. Still taller than you, but not talking up the entire backside of the temple. His face was inches from yours, scouring your expression for anything he could find. You took a stuttered breath, the intent behind his words suddenly dawning on you. Even though this was the first time you spoke to him face-to-face, a familiar comfort washed over you.
This was the being you worshipped, in all of his bright, scorching glory. Holding you and asking if you were offering yourself to him. His anger with the people of the island stemmed from longing, carnal and searing like the lava that came from him.
“I am yours,” you breathed out without thinking, your hand hesitating mere centimeters from his face. “I have dedicated my life to this island, to worshipping you.. Xaora. Whatever you need, take it from me.”
The orange of his eyes flared vividly to life at the proclamation, a look that seemed almost like pride crossing his face. His grip on you tightened slightly, drawing you closer.
“I knew you would not disappoint me. I have watched you tend to my altar here for many years. The perfect devotee made for me.”
His praise made you flush, eyelashes fluttering lightly as you let yourself lean even closer. Xaora’s hands wandering your skin feverishly, pushing the nightgown off of your shoulders easily. The cotton fabric pooled at your abdomen, trapped by your kneeling position. A low, pleased growl emitted from the god as he observed. The slightest layer of sweat casted a gloss over your skin from the heat he emitted.
You were suddenly flipped, gasping sharply as your bare thighs framed his sweltering body. You straddled him now, as he lounged against the steps of his altar like a king on his throne. Your hands reached out to ground yourself, landing on either of his shoulders. He should have been too hot to touch, scorching and burning every part of you exposed to him.
He wasn’t burning you, though. His heat was overwhelming, but in a way that casted your mind into a muddled haze.
“Show me your level of worship, dear. Open yourself to me,” Xaora coaxed softly, one hand gripping your hip while the other dipped between your thighs.
A whine punched out of you when his fingers dragged against your slick folds. An ache coiled in your core that you’d never experienced before. Your body reacted to him stronger than it had with anyone. He gave no warning as two thick fingers pushed inside of you with little resistance.
“That’s it..” he murmured at your choked gasps. The stretch of him was already a lot for you, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He didn’t move them yet, letting you get used to the intrusion.
Your breathing was rough, the only sound echoing against the walls of the temple. After a minute, every slight twitch of his fingers inside you made that ache in your core grow. But Xaora was showing immense patience, watching you closely for signs of discomfort.
You tightened your grip on his shoulders then, dragging your hips forward in one slow movement. The pads of his fingers brushed roughly against a certain spot that sent your vision reeling. He groaned as you tightened around him, taking it as his sign to move. His fingers fucking in and out of you at a steady, infuriating pace. Drawing out more and more of that wet slick and coating himself in it as you rolled you rolled your hips to match him.
It wasn’t enough. His eyes were on you, and his fingers kept brushing those nerves. He was drinking in every sound, every breath, every twitch and clench around him.
“Please, Xaora—“ your voice came out pleading, feeling the building of your peak far sooner than you were ready to.
The god hummed at you thoughtfully, reaching out with his free hand to push a strand of your hair out of your face. He grabbed your chin and dragged your lips against his. The kiss was feverish, his tongue slipping inside your mouth without warning to taste every part of you he could access. As he did so, his fingers slid out of you.
You whined at the absence, wetness coating your inner thighs and smeared over his hand. He shushed you quietly, maneuvering you around so he could line himself up to you.
The sight of him made your mouth water. He dragged that same slick hand over his cock, hissing at the contact. It was hard and thick, and as he lined the tip up to your entrance you felt the heat that radiated off of him like a furnace. You wondered absently if he could even fit before he was pushing inside of you with a possessive growl.
A choked cry forced itself out of you as he bottomed out. Xaora was reaching parts of you never before touched, stretching you over him like you were the missing puzzle piece he’d been searching for. When you were able to focus again, you noticed the way his breathing had changed. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He gripped your waist tightly, expression twisted into one of awe. You barely had any time to prepare before he was pulling back and thrusting into you.
The pace he set was relentless, using his grip on you to basically hold you there as he drilled into you. He was getting hotter the less he focused, and the heat building inside of you made it harder to think about anything but him. The sounds of slapping skin and barely contained whimpers filled the charged air.
“Xaora—“
“You’re taking me so perfectly. Made for me, made to fit around me. You’re mine,” he interrupted, voice raw with pure desire as he forced your hips down. “Tell me you’ll return. Tell me that you’ll be mine alone. That no god or mortal will steal your worship from me.”
He was fucking you rougher as he spoke, flipping you once more so that you laid against the steps of the altar. Your legs closed around his hips as you nodded wildly, blinking the tears from your eyes as you tried desperately to find words past the garbled whimpers and moans he pulled from you.
“I’m yours, oh gods— No one else will touch me, just please.”
At the word, ‘please’ your vision went white as your orgasm ripped through you like a torrent. Your body twitched as he pulled you against him, still fucking into you like a wild beast. You locked your legs against him, forcing him to spill inside of you. His release was hot and thick, and you trembled against him as he slowed to a stop.
You panted against him, his hands running over your back soothingly. He murmured soft praise against your skin, kissing your eyelids gently.
The second he tried to pull out, your legs tightened. He gave you a curious glance, and you shook your head. “Stay for a minute.. Just want to feel you.”
His expression darkened, and he let out a quit chuckle, drawing you back into his lap. “Don’t tempt me, beautiful. Your stamina is no match for mine. I do not wish to ruin you yet.”
The intent behind his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you leaned against his chest. Letting the soothing caress of his hands on your skin draw out the last of your high. He seemed pleased, his energy shifting to something more tempered. More controlled. Like you truly were a salve on his wounds. The question left your lips before you could stop them.
“Will the island be alright, now?”
He smiled at you mischievously, drawing you in for a softer kiss this time.
“As long as you continue to worship at my altar and satiate my hunger.”
