Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

Hours passed in what Ronan could only describe as sheer bliss. Before he even realized it, the sun had already risen in the distance, piercing through the curtains.

Sarael was a mess. Her hair was a wild tangle, matted in places with sweat and other fluids. Streaks of his release painted her skin, drying white trails across her stomach, her chest, her thighs, even a stray line along her jaw where he’d been particularly careless near the end.

The sheets were worse. Dark fabric showed every stain, and there were plenty. The tang of salt and sex hung heavy in the air, mixing with the faint floral scent Sarael always carried.

It was a strange combination, sweat and night-blooming flowers, but not an unpleasant one.

The entire place was a wreck. Even the foxes had opted to move outside after everything.

He didn’t blame them. The room smelled like a breeding den.

He had been holding back far more than he thought; Ronan could barely remember most of what he had done.

There were flashes, her nails raking down his back, the sound of the leash snapping taut, a particularly desperate moan when he’d pinned her wrists above her head and—

Well. The details were hazy. But the evidence was everywhere.

All he knew was that he had definitely satisfied Sarael, more than satisfied, if he had to put it bluntly.

The proof was in the way she lay there still.

One leg crooked at an angle that suggested she’d given up on moving it properly, and in the dried white streaks across her stomach and the fainter trickle along her inner thigh where gravity had done its work while she slept.

"Didn’t think I’d be saying those words..."

Ronan chuckled, cringing at what he had said to Sarael during the night. The possessive declarations that had spilled out of him between ragged breaths.

No normal person would talk like that to his wife unironically.

But Sarael wasn’t a normal wife. She was a woman who actually wanted to be owned. And Ronan wasn’t sure whether that made it easier or stranger to say those things.

"Ronan~"

Sarael mumbled in her sleep, one hand resting on his thigh. They hadn’t even bothered with a blanket, leaving everything Ronan had done to Sarael clearly visible.

Every piece of evidence that last night had been real.

She was covered in his essence, and that wasn’t even an exaggeration. If he had to count, he had probably done it more than ten times outside, and a few more inside her.

Those last deposits were still faintly visible, a thin white sheen along her inner thigh, still slowly leaking from between her folds where he’d filled her hours ago.

Whether it was the golem’s constitution or his own desire that made him last that long, he wasn’t sure anymore.

Maybe both.

"Guess I’ll need to do my own research if I want to please you even more next time, huh?"

Ronan stroked her hair, and Sarael seemed to purr at the contact, pressing even closer into his palm. He wasn’t even sure if she was truly asleep or just pretending. Either way, she looked utterly debauched, naked except for the collar.

He stayed like that for a while, his hand absently stroking Sarael’s hair while the morning light crept further across the room.

Sarael stirred against his thigh, her fingers curling slightly where they rested on his skin. Her eyes remained closed, but the content smile on her face hadn’t faded since last night.

"You’re awake," he said quietly.

"Mhm. I’ve been awake for a few minutes. I just didn’t want to move."

Her voice was hoarse, rougher than usual. Ronan felt a flicker of pride at that. He’d done that.

Him.

By the end, she’d been making sounds he’d never heard from her before, half-sobs of pleasure, his name reduced to a broken chant, her voice cracking on every other syllable.

At some point, she’d even soaked his thighs. The sudden rush of wet heat, the way she’d screamed into the pillow, the convulsions that had gripped her body for nearly a full minute.

She’d squirted multiple times during the night. The mattress would probably need to be flipped, assuming it could even be salvaged.

"Was it good?"

Sarael’s eyes opened at that, less manic than before. She shifted slightly, and a fresh trickle of white seeped from between her thighs, evidence of how thoroughly they’d done it.

"All of it~"

She pushed herself up slowly, wincing just slightly as she moved.

Her gaze drifted across the room, taking in the overturned furniture and the distinct absence of foxes.

"I made a mess."

She said, looking down at the space between her thighs where fluids definitely other than just Ronan’s cum had been pooling.

A slick, glistening puddle had soaked into the sheets beneath her, the dark stain still damp even after all these hours.

And it wasn’t just there. She had made what Ronan could only describe as miniature puddles along the way. The room was marked with the evidence of every climax he’d pulled from her.

Sarael tried to stand to see herself in the mirror, but she immediately collapsed to the floor.

Instead of pain, she giggled, fixating on the soreness and the way her legs pressed against the stains she had left behind.

The small part of her personality she had kept hidden using her personal realm was bleeding out.

"It’s so good. It’s better than I even imagined."

She kept giggling like she was the monster in a horror movie. Ronan just stared at her with a slightly concerned look before shaking his head.

This was Sarael, after all. She had probably done weirder things. Laughing after being used thoroughly was far less strange than the puddle of blood she had made when torturing the Second Prince.

That familiar mix of affection and mild concern had become his default state around her.

"You’re going to catch a cold sitting on the floor like that."

"I don’t get colds."

"Then you’re going to make the floor dirtier than it already is."

"That’s more likely."

She pushed herself up on shaky arms, her legs still visibly trembling. Ronan leaned over and caught her by the elbow before she could face-plant into the rug, hauling her back onto the bed with considerably less effort than it would have taken a year ago.

"Get some rest until you’re strong enough to go to the bathroom."

Sarael smirked at the mention of the bathroom.

"Okayyy~"

She wasn’t planning on letting Ronan rest just yet.

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