The Kai Who Hated Mortals and The Mortal Who He Fell For

[Context and Description: Zamasu from Dragon Ball Super, was sent to observe mortals in other universes by his mentor Gowasu, to help him understand their value. He is now in Universe 7 and has been watching a mortal, Syraxis, who is both everything he hates about mortals, she is flawed yet confident in her ability and knowledge, and yet a contradiction in her compassion and mercy to those in need. She's a fighter and a healer. A killer and lover. One night he slips into her room to watch her while cloaked in invincibility, and he watches her pleasure herself, something he doesn't fully understand the appeal of beyond reproduction. But... he is curious and he finds himself experiencing carnal desires for the first time. He watched her finish herself with a growing hunger to feel what she does and so decides to take his lesson more hands on and to his surprise she knew he was there the whole time as she can sense divine ki and was waiting for him to decide what he wanted, welcoming him into her bed and into her body]

--- The air in Syraxis’ room was thick with the scent of musk and exertion. She lay sprawled across tangled sheets, fingers working between her thighs with slow, deliberate strokes. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, head tipping back as pleasure coiled tight in her stomach. She was unhurried, unashamed—confident in her own skin in a way that made Zamasu’s jaw clench. He stood cloaked in divine invisibility, watching—disgust and fascination warring inside him. Mortal weakness, he told himself. Yet his gaze lingered on the damp sheen of her skin, the way her hips lifted greedily against her own touch. When her breath hitched, his pulse did too. She arched, fingers pressing deeper, and let out a low moan. Zamasu’s hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t understand this indulgence, this *waste* of divine flesh on base pleasure. But heat crawled through him anyway, foreign and insistent. Then her eyes—sharp, knowing—locked onto the empty space where he stood. “Took you long enough,” she murmured, lips curving. His invisibility shattered like glass. Her grin widened as she spread her legs, glistening folds on full display. “Well? Are you just going to watch, or are you going to learn?” Hunger flared in his gut, raw and undeniable. He moved without thinking.

Zamasu closed the distance in one stride, his divine poise faltering as her scent—warm, salty, *alive*—hit him. His fingers dug into the sheets beside her hips, knuckles white with tension. Syraxis reached for him, dragging her nails down his chest before curling a hand around the back of his neck. "You feel it too, don’t you?" she murmured. "That pull." His breath came harsh between his teeth as she tugged him down. Their mouths crashed together, clumsy at first—his inexperience evident in the way he hesitated, the way his tongue followed her lead when she deepened the kiss. Heat seared through him, unfamiliar and overwhelming. Her free hand slid between them, fingers wrapping around his cock with a confidence that made his hips jerk. "Let go," she whispered against his lips. "Just *feel*." A groan tore from his throat as she stroked him, slow and firm. Every nerve burned. He'd never imagined surrender could feel like this.

Syraxis’ grip tightened, her thumb swiping over the head of his cock in a way that made his breath catch. She dragged her mouth along his jaw, teeth grazing the edge with just enough pressure to draw a shiver from him. “Divine being—” she murmured, tongue tracing the shell of his ear, “—feeling *mortal* need. How does it taste?” Zamasu growled, fingers knotting in her hair as he pulled her back to his mouth, kissing her with a desperation that surprised them both. Her laugh was a breathless vibration against his lips before she twisted beneath him, rolling them so she straddled his hips. The movement pressed her wet heat against his length, and he hissed at the contact. She rocked forward, slow and deliberate, watching his face as pleasure flickered across it. “You’re learning fast,” she teased, rolling her hips again. His hands flew to her waist, holding her still—not to stop her, but to savor the friction, the unbearable pressure. Syraxis leaned down, nipping at his collarbone. “But I think you’re ready for the real lesson.” Her hand guided him to her entrance, letting him feel how slick she was before sinking down onto him in one smooth motion. Zamasu’s back arched, a ragged sound tearing from his throat as she took him deeper. “*Syraxis*—” Her name was a prayer, a curse, a surrender.

Her thighs clenched around him as she ground down, taking him to the hilt. The stretch burned deliciously, her body adjusting to the unfamiliar fullness of him. A shudder ran through her—she hadn’t expected him to feel this *good* inside her. Zamasu’s fingers bit into her hips, his breath ragged. "You—" His voice was rough, barely recognizable. "You *planned* this." Syraxis smirked, rolling her hips in a slow circle just to watch his composure fracture. "Maybe." She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest. "But you didn't have to follow." His grip tightened—not painful, but possessive. With a snarl, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her wrists beside her head. She gasped as his cock drove deeper, the angle sharper, more demanding. "Then let me show you," he growled, "what *I* want." His thrusts were relentless, each one dragging a moan from her throat. She arched, nails digging into his forearms. The way he moved—all divine strength and unchecked hunger—left her breathless. "Fuck—" Her legs locked around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Yes, *like that*." He kissed her again, swallowing her cries as their bodies crashed together, heat building with every stroke. She could feel his control unraveling, his hips stuttering. "Look at me," she demanded, and when his golden eyes met hers, she smiled. "Now come for me." A snarl, a shudder—then he obeyed.

Zamasu’s release hit him like a divine storm—his entire body rigid, then shuddering as he spilled into her with a guttural groan. Syraxis arched beneath him, nails raking down his back as she clenched around him, dragging out every last pulse of pleasure. When he collapsed against her, she let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tracing the sweat-slick line of his spine. “Not bad,” she murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to his shoulder. “For a god who’s never done this before.” He exhaled sharply, still buried inside her, his breath hot against her neck. “You’re… *insufferable*.” Syraxis grinned, tightening around him just to feel him twitch. “And yet you’re still here.” With a growl, he pushed himself up on his elbows, golden eyes burning into hers. His cock hardened again inside her—slow, deliberate. Her breath hitched. “*Again*,” he demanded.

Her smirk faltered as he rolled his hips, the friction still raw and electric between them. “You recover fast,” she breathed, but the teasing edge in her voice wavered when he dragged himself nearly out—then slammed back in, drawing a sharp gasp from her. Zamasu didn’t answer. His mouth seared a path down her throat, teeth scraping her pulse point before his tongue soothed the sting. One hand pinned her wrist; the other slid beneath her thigh, hooking her leg higher around his waist. The shift in angle sent him deeper, and Syraxis arched off the bed with a choked moan. “You *toyed* with me,” he murmured against her skin, the words rough with accusation—and something darker, hungrier. His thrusts were long, punishing, each one dragging her closer to the edge. “Now take what you’ve made.” Heat coiled low in her belly, muscles fluttering around him. She could feel his control fraying again, his rhythm breaking into ragged snaps of his hips. “Ngh—*Zamasu*—” Her fingers twisted in the sheets, her whole body taut as pleasure crested. He growled, pulling her up against him. “Look at me when you fall.” Their eyes locked—and she shattered, her climax rolling through her in waves, her cry muffled against his mouth as he kissed her through it. He followed moments later, his release hot and claiming, his body shuddering against hers. When he finally stilled, Syraxis dragged a hand through his damp hair, her voice hoarse but triumphant. “You’re a quick study.” Zamasu caught her wrist again, pressing her palm to his lips. “And you,” he said, his breath hot against her skin, “are far from finished.”