#dionysos x reader
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apricot-blossomss · 7 months ago
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Is it okay if I ask what type of s/o would the Gods be into? I find that really interesting and would like to hear your opinion since I really love your writing <3<3
This request came just right, bc I really want to write but I'm mad busy rn, and this was a lot of fun! so I kinda wrote for ... everyone.
If you're conventionally attractive, you are in Zeus' dating pool. You're exceptionally beautiful? I'm so sorry. Once he has set his eyes on you, you are not safe anywhere. There is no other factor that matters, except maybe if you're exceptionally hospitable and kind to guests, which might attract his attention. Which is not a good thing.
Poseidon would love someone unpredictable, someone who never gets boring and never fails to surprise him or catch him off guard. He'd love the excitement of it all and is generally pulled to exciting and outgoing people, but also people who are more introverted but break out of their shell at unexpected times.
If Hades had a type, it would for sure be someone a little more ... alive than him. He's clearly going for that opposites attract thing, just look at Persephone. Also, I reckon he'd like someone who can stand up for themselves, as standing up to his brothers was always very hard for him and he would admire you greatly for it.
Demeter would like someone who is humble, orderly and respectful and appreciative of the beauties of nature. Someone who finds joy in the little things and never fails to call their grandma for her birthday.
To be honest- you don't have a romantic chance with neither Hera nor Athena, Artemis or Hestia. Though I thought it would be fun to make some platonic headcanons for what kind of mortal they would take interest in in a platonic way.
Hera admires loyalty, it doesn't even have to be to a spouse, it can also be your family or friends. Also, she appreciates people who remain strong even in the face of long term hardships or anguish, and it might earn you her favor. It's not that she pities you, but that she admires your strength to keep fighting. Also, she'd love to talk shit about men with you as much as the next goddess...
Artemis isn't about the whole opposites attract thing. As with Orion, she is likely to make friends with someone who shares her interests, as she also surrounds herself with her huntresses. She loves to talk about hunting and the wild and would like someone who isn't afraid to get themselves dirty. If you're a guy, it's pretty hard to get in her good grades though.
Athena is all in for academic weapons. Critical thinkers, challenging the status quo and earning great archivements. Someone she could have an intellectual conversation with, who offers new points of argument and is able to hold their own in an argument, she is the goddess of warfare after all...
I don't think there is anyone Hestia doesn't like, though she would favor people who spend a lot of time with their family and are kind and hospitable to others. Kindness to strangers is something she very much appreciates.
Apollo doesn't really have a type. His mortal lovers are symbolic for his creative inspirations, so he would not settle for a type but be all over the board. The variety of his lovers concludes that Apollo isn't looking for a specific kind of person. He simply watches or spends time with someone and BAM he's completely and utterly in love. He does love himself an artsy spouse though.
Ares needs someone calm and peaceful- it might seem a little contradictory, but Ares needs someone to ground him, to listen to him and provide the calm for his storm. Actually, he's all for domesticity, though a hot love affair doesn't turn him away either. If his spouse had a strong personality and could stand up for themselves, he would really respect that, but he would also be your guard dog if that wasn't the case. Ares just needs someone to love him unconditionally, quite like the next god on the list.
Not to be disrespectful but Hephaestus does not care who you are, he's just happy with someone who treats him with dignity. Be kind to him and he is putty in your hands. After all his family put him through, he'd also appreciate someone to rant about them to, who can also sit in silent understanding with him at other times. But honestly, he isn't setting the bar very high.
Not to call her vain, but you would have to be insanely beautiful to be on Aphrodites radar. She simply considers herself too good to spend her time on anyone who isn't pleasing to her eye- and that really cuts down the pool of potential lovers. Also, she would only stay around for someone who is ready to give their full attention to her at all times, she is a very demanding lover.
I think Hermes would want someone who is able to keep up with him, but also root him when he overdoes it a little. It would take quite a lot for him to actually stick around, because for him to make time in his busy schedule, he'd have to be head over heels in love.
Dionysus would probably not have a specific type either, simply because he wouldn't want to cut short his dating pool. Though he would like someone who is able to let loose at least sometimes and surrender to his pull of madness and ecstasy.
Extra: Eros would mostly go for someone attractive, but he wouldn't let that be the only factor. Just as the unpredictable and surprising nature of his arrows, Eros could fall for anybody, picking out a trait he loves about them and obsessing over it for the day (I'm thinking 'Someone New' by Hozier if you know what I mean).
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the-myth-nerds · 2 months ago
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đŸ· Dionysus Headcanons 🍇
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By MythosNerd and EN_13
❀,đŸ©·,â€ïžâ€đŸ”„
- Because he's the literal God of Wine, he always smells like fruit, not specifically grapes, just a fruity and slightly nutty smell. It's almost intoxicating.
- I see Dion to be constantly adorned in gold jewelry, small vines and purple robes. Robes and jewelry he loves seeing you in, Dion’s given you multiple rings, necklaces and bracelets as a way of showing all of Greece you're his.
- Along with wine, he's also the God of parties. When he throws one of his iconic get togethers, he always has you by his side and will dance with you any chance he gets.
- As mentioned above, I think Dion loves to dance and is quite good at it as well. If you've watched ‘Dirty Dancing’ you'll have a pretty good idea of how he dances. But if you haven't here's a description. “Dionysus gripped your waist as he swayed his hips from side to side, making yours match his. Practically grinding against you, his hands drifted down and started rubbing your thighs, slowly moving them up and
down.”
- He's quite good in the pet name department. Calling you things like: My bird of paradise, princess (classic/gender neutral), love and My darling girl/boy/doll.
- He loves when you run your fingers through his hair, and he loves doing it to you. Honestly I think Dion loves any/all physical touch.
- He also loves when you sit on his lap and you lay your body against his, it's comforting for him and you to hear each other's heart beats. Especially when your breathing sinks up or you fall asleep on top of him like that.
- He likes giving you gifts, he'll bring you flowers he's found, maybe some pastries from his offerings or he'll have found something random and bring it to you cause he thought you might like it. It's his love language along with physical touch.
Listen to ‘Joy Ride' it gives me Dionysus vibes, along with: ‘Sex, Drugs, Etc.’ and ‘Soaked’.
- He'll let you do his hair however you want, as long as he gets something in return. This has led to Dionysus having pigtails, an ungodly amount of braids and a lot of actually good hair do’s.
💜 NSFW 💜
- I said he loves you sitting on his lap right? Well he also loves making you hump his thigh. He'll help move your hips back and forth across it, whilst saying something like: “Oh that's it. Ride my thigh just like that My darling doll, you're doing so well for me~”
- Dionysus also enjoys c*ck warming. The two of you will be eating dinner, (likely somewhere public) and you'll be on his lap, his c*ck buried in your hole. All while you try not to squirm.
- Dionysus is not vanilla, but he's also not extremely kinky. His kinks include: Exhibitionism, Bondage and Somnophilia.
I would have put ‘Food Play’ but he just likes making you drink his wine while he pleasures you. I don't think it counts.
~Breakdowns of kinks~
Exhibitionism:
He regularly fantasizes about fucking you where someone could catch you, and you've done it before.
Bondage:
He prefers to be the one tied up, he loves seeing you in control and just using him for your pleasure.
Somnophilia:
He entertains the thought of just using you like a toy while you slept. Though he will never act on it without your consent.
~End of kinks~
- Dionysus prefers positions where he can see your face when you cum. So positions like: Any version of Missionary, Cowgirl or Butterfly. An exception to this is ‘Spooning’. Only reserved for when he's had a little too much wine but is still horny.
- The God of ecstasy, he will definitely put your pleasure before his own. He would gladly spend hours in between your legs if you let him, just feasting on you. He spends a glorious amount of time on fore-play, making sure you're practically a fountain before even thinking of sinking himself into you.
- He will praise you for days. Saying things like:
“Oh, listen to yourself. You really are My bird of paradise aren't you?~"
“Mount Olympus love, you taste sweeter than any of my wines or ambrosia could ever be. I might have to stay down here a while~”
“Oooohhhh fuck~ You always feel so damned good princess, I never wanna leave~”
- Dionysus has a relatively high sex drive, plus he's a God so he doesn't get exhausted like humans do. He could probably go four or five rounds without taking a break and being ready again.
- The only time he masturbates is when you're asleep and he doesn't want to wake you up. So he just takes care of it himself, whilst he tries to be as quiet as Godly possible.
- Dionysus is very loud in bed. If he's not talking he's making a sound of some kind, whether it's a moan, groan, whimper or a whine, something is always leaving his mouth. Sometimes if you've had him tied up for a while his moans will turn to screams because of how sensitive he gets.
- He has tied you up with his grapevines before, and has tied himself up with them and acted like some kinda damsel-in-destress. But just imagine Dio brushing his hands over your wrists/another body part, and the next second his vines are twisting around you and pinning you down.
- When Dionysus is particularly drunk, his tongue and words are a lot looser than normal
 so any and all comments he normally holds back just flow out. Ex:
“Θέλω Μα σΔ ÎłÎ±ÎŒÎźÏƒÏ‰ ΌέχρÎč Μα σÎČÎźÏƒÎżÏ…Îœ τα πόΎÎčα ÏƒÎżÏ… ÎșαÎč Ï„Îż ÎŒÏŒÎœÎż Ï€ÎżÏ… ÎŒÏ€ÎżÏÎ”ÎŻÏ‚ Μα πΔÎčς Îź Μα ÎșÎŹÎœÎ”Îčς Î”ÎŻÎœÎ±Îč Μα ΌΔ παραÎșÎ±Î»ÎŹÏ‚ ÎłÎčα πΔρÎčσσότΔρα. Ή ÎŻÏƒÏ‰Ï‚ ÎŒÏ€ÎżÏÏŽ Μα σΔ ÎłÎ±ÎŒÎźÏƒÏ‰ ΌέχρÎč Μα ÎșÎ±Ï„Î±ÏƒÏ„ÏÎ±Ï†Î”ÎŻÏ‚ ΔΜτΔλώς ÎłÎčα ÎżÏ€ÎżÎčÎżÎœÎŽÎźÏ€ÎżÏ„Î” ÎŹÎ»Î»ÎżÎœ, Μα Îșαταστρέψω αυτό Ï€ÎżÏ… ÎșÎ±ÎœÎ”ÎŻÏ‚ ΎΔΜ ÎŒÏ€ÎżÏÎ”ÎŻ Μα ÏƒÎżÏ… φέρΔÎč τηΜ Î”Ï…Ï‡Î±ÏÎŻÏƒÏ„Î·ÏƒÎ· Ï€ÎżÏ… Ξα Î»Î±Ï‡Ï„Î±ÏÎŹÏ‚.”
+ The other God/essess being too absorbed in their own conversations or too drunk to understand what he just said.
~Aftercare~
- He's very sweet and comforting, especially if you've just had a long session. He'll stroke your hair, ask you if you need anything and will immediately get it for you. If you want to wash off, and you need assistance in walking he'll carry you to the bath and join you in it. Dion will help with your hair, body and if you're sore from a position he'll give you a massage. He'll help you get out, dry, dressed and comfortable, and back in bed to cuddle you the rest of the night. All while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
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ananiel · 3 months ago
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I promised i would take today a brake as it is my birthday but i am writing and writing is me so here we got again, because this idea has Been eating me from the morning!
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Would anyone be interested in a darker version of a Dionysus!Reader? One that lingers not in the revelries of wine and ecstasy, but in the quiet spaces between death and rebirth, where the echoes of lost souls hum like wind through hollowed-out bones? A Dionysus not of indulgence, but of tragedy, of grief and the madness that follows when one has seen too much of both?
Dionysus, after all, was born from ruin. Zagreus, torn apart and scattered, left only embers behind—embers that reformed, that reshaped into something new, something weaker perhaps, but still alive. A reborn god who carries the weight of what came before, who remembers, if only in flickering dreams, the pain of being unmade. And maybe, just maybe, that memory clings to them still. Perhaps it manifests in the way they walk through the world, never quite at home in Olympus, never quite at peace in the Underworld, forever straddling the threshold between life and death.
This Dionysus!Reader would be different, a god not of drunken revelry but of fragile liminality, one who brings comfort to the lost, who walks among battlefields before the crows can claim their due, pressing grapevines into the blood-stained earth so that something may yet grow from it. A god who cradles the hands of the grieving, leaving wine not for celebration, but for remembrance, a drink to steel shaking hands and soothe ragged sobs.
Perhaps they are gentler than their more well-known depictions, quiet in their sorrow, seeking out the forgotten and offering them a place in the vines that grow from graves. Or perhaps they are bitter, laughing sharp and hollow at the festivities of Olympus, at their fellow gods who know nothing of loss, nothing of impermanence, who feast and fight and love without consequence. Perhaps they refuse to sit on that golden mountain for too long, feeling the weight of Zagreus’ death press into their bones, weakening them, drawing them downward, back to Hades' halls, where the truth of the world is carved in shadow and stone.
And maybe it is in this duality—this split between joy and grief, between life and death, between the living and the dead—that they find their true power. Perhaps this is why they understand tragedy so well, why their stories cut so deep. Because they know both sides. They have been both sides. And in the end, perhaps they are neither.
Would they be more mystery than mirth? Would they still dance, but only in twilight, their feet pressing against the dirt where the dead lie waiting? Would they whisper to souls long gone, telling them of the vineyards that bloom from their resting places, of the way the world still turns despite their absence?
A god of rebirth. A god of insanity. A god who knows that sometimes they are the same thing.
Would anyone like Something like this for the concepts of god reader?
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depraved-love · 1 month ago
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Pour us anouther cup.
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Dionysus had many lovers of course he did. And to some extent, he cared for all of them in his own way. That said, there were those he cared for a little more than others. There is, after all, a difference between a consort and a true lover. But then... there was one who rooted himself in Dionysus’ mind more deeply than either of them ever expected. Ampelos.
How this damned satyr managed to get so deep under his skin is a question not even his half-sister, or any oracle, could answer. There was something about that boldness
 Especially watching him taunt and mess with the other satyrs, like he was doing right now.
The god sat surrounded by maenads and a few older satyrs, the younger ones burning off a good chunk of their energy nearby. It was a rare moment between the wild haze of celebrations and orgies - but even a god knew that peace and rest were sometimes needed, though the younger crowd would probably argue otherwise. Dionysus didn’t complain, especially not while watching the golden-eyed satyr, with those messy dark curls flailing loosely around his cocky face as he rammed against the others, proudly showing off his curved horns. It was playful, but Dionysus knew most of Ampelos’ taunts were genuine. The young man just couldn’t help himself, and that boldness was beyond attractive to the god. The two were often affectionate. Ampelos knew damn well how to get his god to play along, and Dionysus saw right through him, but neither felt the need to acknowledge it. They liked the roles they played. Bold, dumb, and probably won't end well- Before the god could finish that thought, though, a yell tore through the air. Ampelos had taunted a slightly stronger satyr than he could handle, and now he was thrown flat on his ass,taking a hard hit on a sore spot just beneath his horns. He puffed up, ready to ram right back, until he noticed the god watching him. Instantly, he grinned, sprang to his feet, and pushed his way toward Dionysus. “Did you see that, my god? That brute almost took my horns off!” He nearly jumped into the god’s lap, knowing full well he could get away with this particular brand of ‘disrespect.’ Of course, the god only smiled and pulled him in. “Oh, you poor thing,” he said through held-back laughter. “Well, why don’t you stick with me for now, at least until that poor head of yours gets better.” Dionysus planted a kiss atop his companion’s head, and Ampelos, of course, returned it threefold the moment he pulled back. What was Dionysus thinking about before? Well, it couldn’t have been that important if he didn’t remember.
The two weren’t just together in the peaceful times, of course not. In fact, most of their moments were spent in one of those hazy dances, with Ampelos completely dependent on Dionysus
 or the other way around. Like just today. Dionysus had indulged in just one goblet more than usual, and it showed, though everyone around him was far worse off. Hands wandered where they pleased, eyes drifted lazily from face to body, wine spilled like blood, and of course, a few more exotic ingredients were in circulation. By the middle of the evening, Ampelos was already searching for his lover in the storm of dancing. “Damn it, Wine God, where are you?! You’re the most fun like this, and everyone’s going to get a piece besides your favorite!” And the next thing the satyr knew, two strong arms wrapped around him. Long purplish-black hair, woven with vines, cascaded over his shoulders. “Called me, pretty thing?” “Of course I did!” Ampelos, ever the impulsive one turned, giving the god a teasing look as he guided Dionysus’ hands to the soft fur covering parts of his body. “I want some of you too, my lord.” "You're like a bottomless cup of wine you know?" The two wasted no time in their pursuit of passion. By now, they had each other’s bodies memorized, and the fact that others were watching only fed Ampelos’ need to claim. And what kind of god would Dionysus be if he were to deny him?
Dionysus, believe it or not, took his duties quite seriously, though he absolutely despised when they interrupted his time with his lovers, like today. His group had stopped near a sacred forest, and he and Ampelos were indulging in some games when their discus flew off and got tangled in the branches of a nearby tree. He was just about to retrieve it, despite Ampelos’ protests, who clearly wanted to impress him by climbing up and getting it himself, when Hermes appeared, carrying news of a trial the wine god “absolutely had to attend to.” “Who are they to tell you what to do or not do?!” The satyr dug his hoof into the dirt, fuming. “I’m not happy either, dear, but it’ll be quick, I promise.” “Hmph! Well, I’m at least getting the disc-” “Oh no, you don’t!” The god pulled the satyr away, just as he was reaching for the tree. “This forest isn’t ours - no climbing.” “Since when are there so many freaking limits?!” “That’s enough, Ampelos. Why don’t you go ram around or have a beauty contest with the others? I’ll be back in a few hours max.” Ampelos rolled his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and stomped back toward the group, leaving Dionysus to sigh and follow Hermes into the trees.
It wasn’t a few hours, let’s just say that. He returned in the morning, stepping into the camp and immediately looking for his pouty satyr. Except, he couldn’t find him anywhere. And why was everyone so tense? Why were they all staring at him like that? “Okay, I’m not dumb. What in the world happened? Where is Ampelos?” The younger satyrs immediately ducked behind the older ones, who solemnly gestured toward the tree. “Um, sir, you see-” The god didn’t bother listening. Ampelos was impulsive, sure, but not that impulsive. He’d told him he’d get the disc. Why did that trial have to take so long? Surely, he was fine. Just a broken horn, maybe, and now he was sulking out of embarrassment
 But the sight before him shattered that hope. His beloved lay on the ground, blood pooling around his head. One of his horns was broken. The discus rested nearby, but worse - far worse - were those clouded eyes. That chest, still. Not rising an inch. The god fell to his knees beside him, frantic. Listening. Feeling. Searching for any sign of life. But the satyr’s body was already cold. Others gathered just close enough to hear him
 and to see the purplish fire ignite in his eyes, to see horns begin to rise from his scalp, and to hear the growl tear from his throat. “What in Tartarus?! Why didn’t any of you stop him?!” “W-we tried, sir!” one maenad cried. “He
 he wouldn’t listen! He said something about needing to be equal! We just - we couldn’t get to him before he-” She didn’t finish. Her voice broke into a scream as her mind clouded with maddness. The others backed away quickly. They had seen their god angry before, yes. But rarely like this - and never directed at them. The next few months were hellish for his followers. Dionysus, grief-stricken and unrelenting, unleashed the full weight of his fury on the world. And even after the rampage, after the wine god calmed and the blood dried- he still could not push away the deep, aching sorrow of losing Ampelos.
The gods were, at least, a little kind to him. Not much - Hades still wouldn’t allow Ampelos past the river to see his beloved. But they did help. They helped turn the few drops of blood the earth hadn’t swallowed into delicate, thriving wine shoots. They tried. But in the end, Ampelos had caused his own fate, hadn’t he? Even the gods have only so much compassion to give. Years passed. More satyrs, more maenads came and went, and the wine god wore his old persona like a half-forgotten mask. Nowadays, he was more often drunk than not, and he hadn’t let a single satyr serve him since Ampelos died. Unless he was too far gone to care, he kept to himself, tending to the vine born from his lover’s blood. Wallowing in that tragedy. Drinking, now and then, with Apollo, who wasn’t much better off. And then came [Reader]. A bold satyr. A very bold satyr. One who had never known Ampelos, had only heard whispers. But one thing he did know: the god whose troupe he had joined was exactly the kind of man he desired. The others warned him not to get too close. Not to touch sore wounds. But in stubbornness, he matched an actual goat. So, when yet another celebration came around, wine spilling and drums pounding, he wasn’t far behind his god.
Carrying a carafe of wine, the satyr approached the god whose goblet was already dry. He began pouring a cup. The god wouldn’t have spared a glance, if he hadn’t felt that it was a satyr. “Wasn’t I clear? Only maenads are to serve me.” “Oh, you were, sir. But how am I meant to stay away when the prize of the cult is right here...” He shot the satyr a sharp look. “Scram. If I were you, I’d stick to the orders you’re given.” “And if I were you, I’d lay off the wine.” A goblet flew in his direction within seconds. “Oh, did I strike a nerve, dear Wine King?” [Reader] teased before quickly blending into the crowd, leaving the god in awe. Normally, he’d probably be fuming. But he couldn’t bring himself to cast a single spell while watching the satyr dart through the others. If he finds out Aphrodite had her hands in this, he’s definitely going to sneak her some poisoned wine.
The next time they crossed paths was during one of the stops. Just like all those years ago, Dionysus was conversing with the older members, giving the younger ones space to burn off their energy while allowing some rest for the others. And, just like back then, the younger satyrs were ramming against each other, interlocking their horns as if in friendly sparring. Of course, [Reader] was right in the middle of it, making sure all his sparring matches happened right in front of the god, showing off his own body. His [Y/E/C] eyes shone with youthful fire, and his [Y/H/C] hair swayed around his head as he rammed his smaller horns against his partner’s. The god couldn’t lie and say the satyr in front of him wasn’t testing him. He was bold. And as we’ve learned, Dionysus loved boldness. Another ram sent [Reader]’s partner stumbling back, breaking out in laughter. [Reader] quickly followed, only to meet the god’s gaze. When he did, he immediately responded with a grin. Dionysus tensed, ready to send the satyr flying, but instead, [Reader] knelt before him. “Not a bad match, do you think, My God? If only not so exhausting.” Tension rippled through the others. Surely their god wouldn’t welcome this intrusion. “Not the worst match I’ve seen. And if you’re tired, there’s plenty of moss to lay your head on and rest.” “Moss is lovely, sir...” The satyr grinned, looking up at his ruler before laying his head upon the god’s thigh. “But I think I know of a better way.” By that point, all the followers backed up, thoroughly convinced this couldn’t end well. And Dionysus wanted to believe that too - but his heart was fluttering in a very familiar rhythm. He reached over, running his hands through the hair covering the satyr’s face. “...Well then, rest. But only this once...” From then on, after every match, [Reader] spent at least a little time with his head in the god’s lap. And neither of them seemed to mind.
Seeing how close they had become, even through the wall the god build around himself others eventually decided to tell [Reader] about the vine Dionysus cherished so much, about Ampelos, about the tree, everything. They assumed the satyr would pull away from the god, not wanting to reopen old wounds. Oh, how wrong they were. Dionysus was giving his cherished vine a much-needed trim when the satyr knelt next to him, picking up the shoots the god cut off. "What are you doing here, [Reader]? No sparring today?” “Some peaceful activities are in order,” the satyr answered, weaving the shoots into a crown. “Hm, wouldn’t have guessed it was something you’d do.” They stayed silent for most of the time. Dionysus expected [Reader] to be at least tense, but no
 he was as relaxed as he could be. Did he actually feel safe around him? Dionysus knew [Reader] was probably as impulsive as Ampelos, but this? When the crown was finished, before Dionysus could get up, [Reader] reached out and placed it upon his head, starting to weave it into his hair. “
So you can have him close.” The god wasn’t surprised. He knew. He was sure others had already spoken about it a thousand times. “As long as the shoot lives, I have him close.” “He must have been absolutely extraordinary.” “He was.” “I hope I can reach that in something too.” “Huh?” The god looked at him in confusion. “Well, he was an extraordinary lover. Then I have to find something to match.” [Reader] answered the silent question. “You’re not trying to be a lover?” “There’s nothing I wish for more, my god. But I’m not him, am I? He was ever deserving of you, and you were ever deserving of him. I can’t compare.” “
No, you can’t. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a place as my lover.” [Reader] let out a somber chuckle that probably would have turned into a full laugh if the god hadn’t captured his lips in a soft, tender kiss. The satyr’s eyes widened in surprise, ready to pull away that second but the god didn’t let him. So he just leaned in, closed his eyes, hoping, praying this was true and not a wine-induced dream.
The bond they formed from there was fragile and needed almost constant maintenance. Thankfully, [Reader] was more than eager to provide it, whether through his usual bold teasing or his silent presence when his god’s grief became too much. Unaware, Dionysus began returning to his older self, the more carefree self. This change was most evident in the fact that he actually took to ramming with [Reader]. He didn’t show his horns often, but here it felt natural. Reader was bold, yes, but there was purpose behind that boldness - run away from his nightmare. That is, until they were playing a game and a discus ended up stuck in a tree. Without hesitation, Reader started climbing. “H-Huh?! No! Get down!” the god yelled. This couldn’t be happening. No! He couldn’t lose another! He was ready to let the shoots grab Reader, just ready to climb up and stop the satyr himself when- “Got it,” Reader called from the thick branches, throwing the discus down onto the soft moss. “H-Huh?! Okay, okay, just come down!” The panic betrayed the god, slipping into his tone. He was mortified watching the satyr balance on the branch. Reader started climbing down, clearly worryless, while the god approached the spot where they’d land. “I’m sorry... I acted on impuls-” Crack. His hoof slipped on the bark. He wasn’t high enough to seriously hurt himself yet, but Dionysus immediately gripped his waist and pulled him close. Neither moved. Neither wanted to. One out of fear, the other out of guilt. “Am I even worth the panic?” “You’re worth every tremble.” It would still take work. One was inexperienced and the other was still a mess. But they were both worth the change to the other. By now, being near [Reader] had become as important to Dionysus as keeping the shoot alive
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stumacherstan · 2 years ago
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Hello! Are your requests open? I saw that you wrote for the yandere greek gods, and I wanted to ask for a request for Hera, maybe her growing an obsession for a fellow god, someone who's happily married to their spouse and grows jealous from how spiteful her own marriage is? She deserves a good husband smh
Yandere!Hera x god(dess) of justice and loyalty!gn!Reader:
Queen Hera is your senior for sure
She remembered when you came to be.
Small. Cute. Truthful. Weak. Small. Quiet.
Your little scale had its pros and cons
but you always listened to her
it was cute really
but as time went on she went to doing her duties and you to your own
Hera hadn’t realized how much time went on
She kept dealing with Zeus’s bullshit for so long, time slipped by
She needed to talk to her good little fellow god(dess) the one who always listened
Hera was surprised to see you be married with another
and him at that? Seriously. HIM?!
she felt betrayed.
to be fair you didn’t know what went down between her and Dionysos but fuck her to the underworld
and even worse. it was a successful happy marriage.
The damn fuck was known for being rowdy and chaotic
what the hell
you were just happy to be by his side and have fun with him and everyone
being together was important
Hera hated it.
however she tries to be patient
choose her over him
Hera calls for you and Dionysus felt weird about it but let it go
what’s she to do?
You go and Hera is happy
she keeps you.
You are very surprised. Wasn’t this supposed to be a visit?
Hera weeps
She knows she’s married and she knows you’re married now
but whyyy
you don’t know what to do after trying to get away for a couples of days.
“you’re supposed to be with me!” Hera feels pathetic. She feels dejected. She always knew how lovely you were and now you’re with another.
“I’m sorry? i’m not sure what to say.”
“I won’t stand for it. You are to stay here. I do not care. I’ll deal with it all. I just need you. like it was before. I won’t even think about the damned Zeus. I never needed him. I always needed you.”
(because i’m sure you wanted nice domesticated headcanons we’re skipping the drama)
it took some time to get use to
but Hera is a really great wife
you don’t really get to see anyone but she’s all you need
she feeds you. you feed her
you both grant peoples wishes together when they pray to you both
Hera is very sweet when she whispers sweet nothings into your ear
she’s very soft and nice to hold. it’s like you two fit
you don’t think about your ex. that’s all the past like hera said
you’re all she needs and she’s all you need
time never exists with her because you two’s love is for eternity <3
And no one will come between it
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thealtoduck · 4 years ago
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I just read your Jason and son of hera fic and I had an image come in my mind we’re the reader goes back to camp and goes to Percy and annabeth gestures to them and say “how did you know you wanted this” points to them holding hands. Annabeth “why
 do you like someone 😏”. Percy “o my gods you like someone.” the whole camp “o my gods you like someone.” all of Olympus “o us.” Hera “that’s my boy.” Jason hell yeah he likes me!!”
(A/N: Oh yeah let’s do different reactions to Son of Hera x Jason Todd)
Percy: Y/n can date?! Can i join? *gets smacked on the arm by Annabeth* -Ouch! Can WE join?
Annabeth: I did expect Y/n to find a boyfriend eventually, but i expected him to date like a harvard or yale graduate, i didn’t expect it to be a gunslinging vigilante.
Grover: Yay! I’m so happy for them!
Jason and Thalia being overprotective step-siblings: We don’t approve!
Leo: Why would Y/n want to date that guy when he could have The Leo.
Argus: I approve
 but if he hurts Y/n i’ll be shoving is guns up his- *Censored noices*
Luke: 
 (If you don’t get it he’s dead)
Hera: My son dating THAT
 Couldn’t he had date someone like us like Apollo -wait! you know what this is better.
Apollo: *Jealous noices*
Bruce: Well at least Jason is happy.
Dick and Tim: *Just happy for Jason*
Damian: *Totally has a crush on Son of Hera because he’s everything Damian wants. He’s classy, sassy, can fight and is a total savage. He tries to get Son of Hera to date him even though he’s like twelve.*
Zeus: Huh? I didn’t expect him to be into bad boys.
Ares and Hephaestus: *Both ready to kill the mortal though Ares kinda likes Jason’s style*
Aphrodite: I ship it! Oh my US! I ship it so much!
Dionysos: Young love *sips drink* (Okay side note idk why but i feel like Dionysos would actually like Son of Hera, maybe because he’s good at keeping campers in check and stuff)
Most are either confused or jealous. I just did the ones i think would have actual interesting reactions but if i forgot someone or you’d like to see someone you can send in an ask.
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stunudo · 8 years ago
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That Got Away: A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction Part 9
Inspired by: Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away”
Foo Fighters “Monkey Wrench”
Featuring: Spencer x Reader   Rating: Teen    Setting: Season 4
(I know this pic is from season 5, but come on!) A/N: What does it mean when you make yourself cry while writing? Angst. Let’s see if the team can make up for the crappy hotel security... xoxo Stu
I do not own any of the lyrics, characters or images.
Part 1   Part 7    Part 8
Emily saw the envelope sitting neglected on the desk. The unsubs had the BAU rolling around this hotel like a tangled ball of yarn betwixt the claws of a pack of sadistic kittens. She grabbed a pair of gloves from a uniformed cop at the desk, knowing in her gut it was exactly like the one found at Reid’s hotel room that morning. She opened the gently pronged seal, a single sheet of printer paper with typical Times New Roman Font stared back.
Regarding: A Trade
When: At your earliest convenience
Who: Dr. Reid for Agent Jareau
Where: To Be Determined
How: Please have Dr. Reid pick up the security desk phone and dial #999 to receive further instructions
Don't wanna be your monkey wrench One more indecent accident I'd rather leave than suffer this I'll never be your monkey wrench
You felt like you were trapped in a bad after school special about abstinence. How could your dad; your sweet, goofy, dork of a dad be this controlling?! You were an adult. You had lived on your own for an entire year of college. Why was it so bad to finally have a boyfriend? Even in your memories you could hear the whine of your voice in your thoughts. You had never felt so alone and angry before. What could you do with all these emotions?
You blasted Dave Grohl through the sound system and threw your stuff around your bedroom.
“JJ, can you see an exit? Can you get out of there before she catches up to you?” Hotch did not want to risk heroics, he wanted JJ back with the team.
“Yeah, Hotch, there seems to be a door at the end of the other hall. If I make it through, I will work on getting above ground.” JJ had controlled her breathing, yet she was still determined to move on to the next step of escaping. “If I don’t come back to the phone, take it as a good sign.”
“JJ, be careful.” Hotch stayed on the line, until he heard the other phone rest into the cradle.
Spencer was agitated, “Hotch, did she see Y/N? Were there any other doors she could have tried?!”
Hotch looked at Reid with his serious, yet blank face. “You can ask her when we get her back. Right now, we know Dr. Y/L/N is not in any real danger. Also, one of the unsubs have been taken down with ease.”
“And one of them is walking amongst us.” Emily Prentiss had arrived with the next clue from the suspects. “We have another note. This time it is an invitation for Reid.”
Every member of the local and BAU team present exchanged glances as Spencer rushed toward Agent Prentiss. She held up the page for him to read without touching it. His eyes ran over the note, it was impossibly short. He read it three times. “Hotch, make sure Garcia is on the trace.”
Spencer walked calmly back over to the security desk and picked up the phone.
Morgan and Rossi were in the conference room staring at the wall. There were three “known” unsubs: Kurt Hansen, Unsub Mail Carrier (female) and Unsub Prison Guard (older female). The available pictures and generic descriptions were on sheets with details of the profiles below each part of the team. This group was organized, willing to take high risk victims and had resources to pull this off.
They were pointing to the one keeping watch of JJ and Y/N as the leader, this was personal for her. They were looking into ties with both Dr. Y/L/Ns to build a suspect list. Y/N was injured while JJ was not, was this about her from the beginning? Had the father’s murder occurred because the original target, Y/N was not yet in Pasadena?
Kurt Hansen was muscle and accessibility. He probably didn’t know much about the other members of the team, but he liked their bankroll. How did Y/N end up choosing a room at this hotel? Did they know that the BAU would be staying here as well? How far did their research go?
The mail carrier unsub was fearless. She made no attempt to hide her features besides knowing where security cameras were. She helped develop the games that Reid and Y/N were battling. She was intelligent, probably a sociopath, and also had a personal vendetta against Y/N.
The room behind your wall had a tussle. You hoped JJ was alright, Auntie Miriam could have a mean streak about her. You tried to get her attention after you heard her door, followed by a yelp. Yet again you were greeted with silence. You began reciting Nonnus’ ‘Dionysiaca’ because right now you could really use a god of wine.
Bring me the fennel, rattle the cymbals, ye Muses! put in my hand the wand of Dionysos whom I sing: but bring me a partner for your dance in the neighbouring island of Paros, Proteus of many turns, that he may appear in all his diversity of shapes, since I twang my harp to a diversity of songs. For if, as a serpent, he should glide along his winding trail, I will sing my god’s achievement--
It was not your favorite epic poem, but it was flowery and the dank cell you were in needed such fantastic color. You returned to sitting on the cold floor, your lack of underwear a constant reminder of how far you had fallen over the course of this short, yet arduous day. You smiled against the desperation, you had spent the night with ‘ton chevalier’ and those memories were worth reliving.
Too soon reality returned. After some time, you began to accept that you had gotten your father killed by being a terrible niece. Aunt Miriam needed something from you and apparently Spencer also. What you two could offer her, after years apart was the largest puzzle piece. You hoped Spencer was safe, wherever he was. That his team would protect him, as they tried to protect you. After all, he didn’t deserve to be hurt by your family again.
All this time to make amends What do you do when all your enemies are friends Now and then I'll try to bend Under pressure Wind up snapping in the end
This was Spencer’s third pass down Dr. Y/L/N’s office in an hour. The young doctor knew the older man was studying him, he just couldn’t have foreseen their conversation.
“Spencer, why don’t you come in for a sec?” Dr. Y/L/N’s wide face beckoned through his casually open office door. Spencer set his last box of materials on the floor near the door. He plopped down on one of the same uncomfortable brown laminate chairs that were found throughout the building. He waited, his breathing still labored from his repeat trips to his next research hub and he didn’t know what Dr. Y/L/N wanted.
From his spot, Spencer could see a framed photograph of Y/N. She was probably eight or nine, in the background was the Colosseum. Her front teeth elephantine to her features. Spencer wondered if that was before or after Dr. Y/L/N’s wife had passed. For someone so fortunate to travel the world and absorb such varied cultures and history, Y/N had been through many hardships. Spencer smiled, knowing just how the world hadn’t truly seen Y/N Y/L/N yet.
“Spencer,” Graham sighed, “I have been watching you fall in love with my Y/N/N for a year now. And I am sorry for that.”
Spencer’s brown eyes bulged in embarrassment, he cleared his throat. “Sir? While I have known Y/N for one year, two months, 6 days and eighteen hours, I would not say my feelings,” his voice cracking, “were as that involving the complex chemical and hormonal mixture that is romantic love until most recently.”
“Spencer, when you are an old man, such as I am,” Dr. Y/L/N continued. “You will witness young love quite clearly as you can never have it like that again. It is fleeting and priceless.” His large form rose to sit on the edge of his fine desk, taking a casual aside in this formal setting. “I have turned a blind eye these past few weeks, because she is, you both are so special to me. But I can no longer ignore the potential ramifications from such summer flings.”
Spencer’s mind soared while his stomach dropped to the floor. The worst was the shame he felt, it gave him a searing jolt; silencing his usually generous words. His mouth opened and closed before he could articulate, “Sir, I, um we have not done anything that could endanger your daughter. I, mean, sir I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Even so, I have made arrangements with my sister. Y/N will be spending the rest of her summer with her Aunt in San Francisco. She is leaving tomorrow morning. You are welcome to say goodbye, if you would like.”
Spencer stood. Like an animal released from a pen, he could no longer sit in one place. He picked up his research box and dropped it, twice, before looking back at his mentor. Then all he saw was the man that was oddly breaking his heart. “I will, I will call Y/N and set up a time, sir. Thank you, I must, <cough> go now and finish up in my new department, sir.”
JJ made it to the doorway at the end of the narrow hall from the captor’s base. The wide push release at waist height engaged, allowing her passage. She found another short hallway, it’s floor descending. It was lined in cinder blocks and ended in a ladder like a service entrance. She turned, trying to retrace her steps, but there was no handle on the exterior of the door she had used.
JJ squared her shoulders and began to climb up the cold iron rungs. The buzzing lights of the basement were lost as she ascended into warmer air. The sounds of machinery and voices urged the agent onward. People were near, people are her specialty, she can work with people. Her exhausted, undernourished mind kept thoughts at a minimum. Suddenly she couldn’t climb anymore, her hands and head bumped into a heavy stone hatch.
After ensuring Garcia was on the line and tracing the call, Spencer pushed the code through. The answering rings were clipped, more mechanical than he expected. On the fourth chirp, she answered, rather breathy. “Dr. Reid I presume.”
“Why did you give up on the prose?” Spencer started, “Was it for efficiency sake or couldn’t you find your muse? Perhaps that little errand girl you have roaming the lobby didn’t meet your deadline and you had to improvise.”
“No matter, Dr. Reid.” The older woman appeared to be talking, a notable accent the more she spoke. “As you now have Agent Jareau, how would you like to proceed?”
Spencer looked to Hotch, JJ wasn’t here. What did this woman want after losing her trading jewel? Hotch shook his head at Reid, knowing it wouldn’t convince him anyway. “Miriam, Miriam Y/L/N?” Spencer held his hand over the mouthpiece, and stage whispered, “The unsub is Y/N’s aunt!”
Hotch was floored, “Reid, are you sure?” Spencer nodded, writing on a pad beside the phone: ‘same accent as Graham’ in his stylized scribbles.
The team regrouped, Emily called Morgan to continue with the profile. Garcia flew through her research getting any information that could take this brother-killer down. Hotch continued to watch Reid and Y/N’s monitor. Someone had entered the room with her, but Hotch wouldn’t draw Spencer’s eye away from the phone.
Part 10
@sparkle-dinosaur, @dontshootmespence @reiding-and-writing @speedreiding @reid-my-fortune @sapphire1727 @holagubler @cherry-loves-fanfic @lookingforgalifrey @miss-gleek-freak-geek @criminal-minds-fanfiction @reidbyers @sortaathief 
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apricot-blossomss · 4 months ago
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I was wondering if u could write the gods(you can chose any but i would love hermes to be in it if thats ok with u) reactions of waking up next to reader.
U can skip this request if u want.
Love your work btw. â€ïžđŸ˜†
☛ the gods [apollo, hermes, dionysus, ares] waking up next to you
☛ sfw, cw: suggestive, mentions of blood & violence in ares' part
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APOLLO
Apollo had found himself doing this every morning for the past few weeks. The god's eyes fluttered open as the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, mind slowly clearing off the haze of sleep. For a moment, he simply lay there, letting the sense of contentment flood him, the soft sounds of your breath like music to his ears.
His gaze wandered as he turned towards you, still soundly asleep next to him. Somehow, you had managed to get completely tangled up in the sheets. The sunlight that bathed his palace in golden hues caressed your skin as softly as his fingers might have. It made your hair shine as it lay sprawled out on the pillow, just calling to be twirled around a finger as he leaned close to you, watched you blush and laugh.
But you weren't laughing now. Your expression showed only utter serenity as you drooled cutely on the pillow, fingers twitching occasionally, signs of a restless dream. But other than that, your chest rose and fell with steady breaths as your body relaxed against the sheets. So pliant, so soft, yet marked. Apollos eyes traced the line his lips had drawn over your collarbone, up to your neck, and his lips twitched as he remembered the little sighs they had elicited from you, the way your cheeks flushed.
Apollo never thought he would ever find someone he would want to wake up next to every day, for eternity. Sure, he loved, and he loved deeply. But it was always temporary. He had never planned to be anything but an eternity-long bachelor, simply because his attention tended to stray, always in search of someone new to inspire him. But gods, you were enough to inspire his poems and songs for eons to come. And it would never be enough to grasp just how much he cherished you.
He propped himself up in bed, watching you intently, eyes drinking in every little movement, skimming over your peaceful expression. And he felt it. The itch in his fingers. The need to capture you, to capture this, to grab a quill, a pencil, a paintbrush, whatever was suited best to express his adoration for you in this moment.
He rose from the bed without making a sound, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, and reached for a canvas and a palette, along with a brush. As he settled down onto the bed, his hand travelled over your figure, his eyes raking over you with the steady assessment of a professional. With touches so tender they were little more than breaths against your skin, he draped the covers just right and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, basking in the little sigh you answered him with in your sleep.
His hands moved quick over the canvas, with experienced precision and a commitment to detail, to immortalize this moment. His eyes drank you in, every inch of you, and flickered down to the canvas as his brushes formed the curve of your hips, the slope of your nose, the rosiness of your lips. He painted you as he saw you- drenched in the gold of the morning sun, ethereal, otherworldly. And yet, even the minor imperfections found their way onto the painting- because to him, even calling them 'imperfections' was an oxymoron, when they were what truly made you perfect.
As he completed the last brushstrokes, your lashes fluttered and you stirred slightly. A yawn broke free from your lips and, eyes still closed, you stretched your arms over your head. Then, you slowly blinked up at him, your lips curving into a smile at the sight of him. "Hey," you said, almost shyly, as you spotted the marks you had left on him the night before.
His voice was full of reverence as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss onto your lips. "Good morning, sunshine."
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HERMES
The first thing that seeped into his consciousness like the most intoxicating drug was the smell of you. Second, the warmth, third, the pulsing of your heartbeat against his temple. He breathed in your scent, breathing out against your neck and tightened his hold on your soft body. To wake up like this every day...
Hermes slowly raised his head from your neck, his own curls brushing over your skin softly as he did. As if you felt it through the haze of sleep, you sighed softly, and his lips twitched into a smile as he propped himself up next to you, eyes wandering over you. Your chest was rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, and even in your sleep, you managed to be so utterly adorable.
Sometimes, your fingers would twitch against the sheets, a reaction to a dream, or your lips would string incoherent sentences together. A grin spread on his lips as he heard something closely resembling his name, a mumbled sigh, and he leaned in to catch more of it. Distinctly, he made out the words 'don't go' in the midst of your vague dreamy ramblings before you slipped off again, a long sigh escaping your lips, leaving him to guess what you might have been dreaming about.
But Hermes had never been one for patience. Before long, his hand came up to trace a line down your jaw, relishing in the way your breathing hitched softly. Slowly, he let his fingers trail down, down your back, over the curve of your hips, and up again. He could see the way your eyelids fluttered, the way you tried to hold onto sleep - a nice dream, then - but your consciousness was slipping and your brows scrunched up.
First, you didn't know what had woken you up. Then, through the still present haze of sleepiness, you felt a soft touch, running up and down your spine. Before you could stop it, it elicited a shiver from you and you could hear a chuckle, resonating close to your ear. "I know you're awake, you know?"
With a low groan, you pushed his hands away, pulling the covers more tightly around yourself. It had been such a pleasant dream, and you desperately wished to know how it ended, even though the waking part of you was aware that your chances of slipping back into slumber under his watch were utterly nonexistent. As you had suspected, your groggy protest did little to deter him. His hands returned- and this time, they ran up your sides in a more teasing way.
He was tickling you.
That bastard.
With a loud whine, you squirmed away, still squeezing your eyes shut. But instead of taking pity on you, the god only increased his teasing touches and your attempts to shake him off remained futile. Now, even the last remnants of sleep were lost, as you trashed under his relentless tickling, you held onto the dream like water slipping through your fingers. Finally, as the god tenderly pinched the soft flesh of your stomach, you snapped.
In one fluid motion, you shot up, grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him down onto the duvet, settling on top of him. You were well aware that you would have not been able to tackle him had he not allowed it, but you would take what you could get as you glared down at his far too pleased expression. "What the fuck, Hermes?" you groaned, the last bit of drowsiness draining from your mind. "I was having a nice dream!"
"Did you dream about me?" he asked, a tenderly teasing smile playing around his lips. Knowing. You shook your head, but it was a lie, and he seemed well aware.
You squeaked in surprise when he lifted himself up, you still perched on his lap as he looked down on you and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "Hm, I think you did," he mused, lips hovering just above yours. He clicked his tongue at your spluttered protests. "Y'see, honey... you talk in your sleep." His grin turned downright wicked when he saw your mortified expression, and as you felt your cheeks heating, you leaned your head against his collarbone, desperate to hide them. But no chance.
"Aw, don't be embarrassed, baby," he cooed softly, but with a distinctly teasing edge to his tone. His lips came up to brush against your temple tenderly. "Don't be mad you didn't get to finish it." He locked eyes with you, and the look in them made you swallow. "In fact," he drawled suggestively, hand running down to your waist, "How about we reenact them, hm?"
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DIONYSUS
Your morning could have been peaceful. However, peaceful wasn't really in your lover's repertoire. Thus, your steady flow of vague dreams was disrupted when hands shook you awake, hands that had been traveling down your body with teasing touches the previous night, had latched onto you as if you could fade at any moment, had dipped into a goblet of wine and drawn patterns of red liquid down your squirming body.
Now, however, they were barely tender, no, they were demanding, and you reluctantly let them pull you out of your quite pleasing dreams. With a huff of annoyance, you shook his hands off and turned your back to him, propping up your pillow and praying he would let you drift back into slumber. But of course, your hopes were futile.
"Baby," he sighed into your ear, shuffling ever closer to your figure. His arms closed around your midriff as his forehead came to rest against the back of your neck. And gods, you were sure a diety was not meant to sound this whiny. "Baby, wake up."
With a frustrated groan, you gave him a push and turned in bed to face him, stretching your arms over your head and glowering at him. The sight of him, however, caught you off guard. His long curls were impossibly disheveled, eyes glazed over, his expression pulled into one of great agony. He looked positively wrecked.
With a low groan, Dionysus let himself fall back into the mattress, wincing at the movement. The sound was stifled with the way he buried his face in his pillow, but the pain in it did tug at your heartstrings. It looked like you had been right last night- he had completely overdone it, even for a god, and now, he was paying the price. But that didn't mean you had no pity for his predicament.
The scowl on your face slowly melted into a softer smile as you shuffled closer to his figure, sprawled out on the duvet. A mop of curls obstructed his face, as well as a pillow, so you settled for carding your fingers into his hair and softly running their tips over his scalp. The sound of elicited from him, though muffled against the sheets, was one of relief rather than pain.
"Everything hurts," he moaned into the duvet as you continued to run your hand through his hair. "I'm a god. This shouldn't be happening."
"You poor god, you," you cooed sweetly, laughing when he released a muffled scoff. As he rambled on, listing his complaints, you hummed along, smiling down at him. You liked these moments- moments when you got to see him raw, almost human. Only to be reminded of his divinity when he slowly raised his head from the sheets to rake his eyes over your bare figure. They glinted dangerously.
"You know what, baby?" he purred seductively. "I think I'm starting to feel better. Not quite though. Got some ideas on how to ease my ache?"
You slapped the back of his head.
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ARES
Ares was used to blood. He was used to violence, to shouting and screaming, the clanking of steel on steel, the roaring of the victorious and the cries of the vanquished. But not to this. He didn't think he could ever get used to this. Waking up next to you, the first thing to see your bare figure, wrapped loosely in his sheets, chest rising and falling softly, lips parted as if they were about to tell a secret. But your eyes were closed, lashes delicately brushing over your soft skin.
But, though he would never get used to this, to you, he was already addicted to it. He craved every little touch, every small smile, every little grace like a drowning man the air. And it was so very tempting to accept it all, take it all, take everything he could get. That was the way he used to do it. He was the god of war, he didn't ask for things, and he certainly didn't take other people's feelings into account before acting- until you.
It burned in his fingertips, the need to reach out, to touch, to pull you against him, to bury his face in your neck, breathe in your scent, bask in your warmth. To hear your breath hitch in the most delicious way, feel your body melt into his. Your voice would be rough from sleep, but it would sound all the sweeter in his ears. He yearned to feel you against him, if only for prove that you were real, that he was granted something this good.
But as he watched you, as he listened to the soft sound of your breathing, he couldn't bring himself to destroy your peace, as he would any other. The only thing greater than his desire to feel you was his need to let you rest. Putting up with him every day, you needed it. No, he could not wake you up.
Pathetically, he ended up shifting as close to you as he could without touching you, so close he could feel the warmth of your body gently nipping at his skin, so close that his fingers twitched to close the thin gap between your bodies. But he didn't. Restraint had never been his strength, as his sister would gladly remind him, but now, he disciplined his urges and closed his eyes, knowing sleep would not take him back.
But it didn't have to. It was only minutes later that you stirred, shifted against the covers and finally, turned around beneath them to face him. His proximity startled you for a second, but it could not break your sleepy gaze as you lazily threw your arms around his neck and pulled him close.
Ares surged. Hadn't he been careful, he would have crushed you with the way he wrapped his strong, scarred arms around your middle and pulled you flush against him, eliciting a startled little squeak from you. Your soft, pliant body all wrapped up in his arms, he could not have been more content, and as you relaxed against him with the sort of undeniable trust that went to his head in the most twisted way, he lowered his head to the crook of your neck.
The steady fall and rise of your chest against his was a strong enough tether to keep him right there, possibly forever, wrapped up in your gentle warmth that was so different to his scorching fire. But fuck, did he crave it.
Ares stiffened for a split of a second when your fingers carded into his dark curls, but his shoulders relaxed in an instant as you ran them through the strands. A soft groan left his lips, and he would have been content admitting that a tiny mortal like you had rendered him utterly defenseless. The soft giggle that sounded against his ear was more heavenly than all the odes his brother ever composed.
"You're cuddly today," you commented vaguely, fingertips scraping over his scalp tenderly.
An indefinite sound rumbled in his chest, vibrated against yours, but he only sank deeper into your touch, wishing every morning could start like this.
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a/n: thinking about making taglists for my works/specific gods, would anyone be interested in that?
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apricot-blossomss · 7 months ago
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would it be okay to ask for maybe A dionysus/hermes/Apollo x Reader?
The gods just love giving reader multiple praises to the point it completely overwhelms them/pos
(seperate please!)
the greek gods showering mortal!f!reader in praise [apollo, hermes, dionysus x reader]
sfw, cw: mentions of a praise kink, not proofread
feels good to finally upload again, I hope I'll find more time to write next week!
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APOLLO
There was perhaps no greater blessing for you personally than listening to Apollo sing, and once one witnessed him, they would find themselves aggreing with you. Which was why you had no objection when Apollo interrupted your little make out session on his settee to ask you wether he could play a song for you. Quite the opposite, actually. But now, you almost regretted it, because you felt like your head was about to explode.
His golden eyes were locked to yours, making you unable to turn your head and hide from the might of his words. Endless praise and adoration fell from his lips in the most beautiful melody. You suddenly realized you were crying, but you made no attempt to wipe the tears away as you were frozen in place, growing hotter by the minute. With newfound intensity, Apollo recited the next verses, lips pulled into a little smile as he flooded your poor helpless mind with words of devotion.
You couldn't do this any longer, you buried your burning face in your hands, overwhelmed by his divine love. The way each word sounded so genuine you began to doubt the very existence of the lie. Nearly shaking, you pulled your legs to your chest and whined. "Oh gods, please stop, it's too much!"
A soft coo made you look back up at him as Apollo played some closing strings and put the lyre aside to pull you into his lap, right were the lyre had sat. Hiding your face in your chest, you attempted to conceal the deep red of your cheeks. "You can't just say stuff like that," you muffled into his tunic and a soft rumble made his chest vibrate.
"Like what?" he asked, caressing your hidden face with his index finger before placing it underneath your chin, guiding your face up to look at him. "It's all true. Every time I look at you, my sunshine, I am lifted, gazing upon a masterpiece that must've been sculpted by a god. Or perhaps, you are your own artist?" Apollo allowed himself a little grin when you let out a loud whine and slapped his chest. Gently, his fingers closed around your wrist as he guided it to his lips to trail kisses up your arm.
"Your smile could rival the warmth of spring itself—it awakens my heart as surely as the season revives the earth." His words were blooming as always, masterfully crafted sentences praising you, as his lips, hushed into a soft whisper, trailed up your arm. "No lyre could ever match the harmony of your laughter. My music is a mere attempt to echo your perfection. You are as brilliant as all the stars of the night sky. Every word you speak is a melody to my ears, every thought of yours a revelation."
His lips reached your shoulder, making their way to your throat that was taken over by a bright pink tone, it felt like your whole body blushed, like the pink blossoms in spring. "You're going to be the death of me," you said breathlessly, burying your hands in his hair and keeping his head in place in the crook of your neck, so he couldn't talk any more of his charming words.
Apollo laughed into your neck, it muffled the sound but couldn't lessen the melody of it. A shuddering breath left your lips as you pulled him closer, and though they flustered you, you savored his words, remembering every little phrase to keep in your heart forever.
HERMES
Gods curse the day Hermes found out you had a praise kink. Because ever since he had realized how much his compliments flustered you, he exploited it maliciously. Humming sweet praises into your ear when you were going about your day and doing the most mundane things, leaving you blushing and spluttering as he retracted with a cackle. Giving you the sweetest compliments anytime he would find you unsuspecting, with your guard down, and utterly humiliating you as your heart would start to race and all you could muster up were weak stutters of embarrassment.
So, when he plopped down on the couch next to you, stretching his limbs after a long day of godly duties and regarding you with that cheeky, mischievous smile, you knew what ideas formed in his head, as if you were able to read his thoughts. Immediately, your flight instinct kicked in as you retreated into the kitchen as quickly as possible- though not fast enough. In the blink of an eye, the sneaky god had caught up to you and dragged you back into the couch with him, pulling you into his lap.
His nose nudged your chin and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "How's my beautiful girlfriend doing today?" Ignoring your petty kicking, he giggled. "You know I'm faster than you, you know I know my way around you- though, you know, you’ve got this spark about you—like you could talk your way out of anything. It’s kind of my thing, but I think you do it better."
"You're insufferable," you sighed, though you felt your cheeks heat up embarrassingly. When his fingers trailed over your stomach, you squeaked and pushed them away, making Hermes throw back his head in a loud laugh. For a moment, you were mesmerized by him- the sound of his laugh, the bounce of his curly hair, the way his face lit up, eyes squeezed shut and cheeks pink. Then, he started talking once more.
"I used to think of myself as the best of thieves," Hermes sighed, drawing circles on your thigh. "But you outdo my trickery, love, as you have stolen my heart away from right under my nose." Don't blush, don't blush, don't blush, you thought to yourself, but you knew you were as red as a tomato by now. Stuttering out protests, you felt your stomach constrict in the best way and tried to wiggle out of his arms, a fruitless attempt.
Turning your head, you glared at him, but only got a cheeky smile in return. Hermes tipped his hat and chuckled. "Gods, you're so hot when you're mad." You gave him a deadpan stare and his smile only widened. "And so cute when you're blushing like this. Honestly, sweetheart, I think you could make everything more sexy."
In a final attempt to cut him off before you could make a complete fool of yourself (even more so than you'd already done), you crashed your lips into his. And of course, Hermes would never deny you, so his eager hand shot up to cup your face and tilt it in order to get a better angle to kiss you completely senseless on his lap.
Little did he know, you had been waiting for this moment of weakness. With his hands busying themselves with cradling your face, you jumped out of his lap, evaded his reaching arms and ran upstairs, laughing breathlessly. Of course, he could've caught up with you in an instance, but Hermes seemed determined to give you a fair chase, because when you reached the highest stair, you could hear his voice, still from downstairs.
"Baby, I think that was just about the hottest thing I ever saw."
DIONYSUS
"No cuddles with that breath" you protested, dismissing your lover's drunken attempts to wrap his arms around you. Whining, Dionysus forced himself halfway into your lap, in spite of your slapping at his chest and arms, looking up at you with dreamy eyes, glazed over by the effect of whatever alcohol emitted its odeurs from his mouth. Rolling your eyes, you attempted to shove him off. "If you want to bother someone, go and hang out with your brothers."
"Nooo," Dioynsus gave a long, drawn out protest and you found yourself lamenting how he could be a thousand years old and this childish at the same time. "You are more fun," the god pouted, squinting up at you. You complimented yourself on showing no reaction whatsoever on the outside, but your insides secretly did somersaults.
"If you want fun, why don't you throw a party?" you said dismissively, flicking his temple to which he responded with another whine. At your words, a drunken little smile creeped onto his face. "You make everything more fun, even doing nothing. I swear, you’re better than wine
 and that’s saying something."
"If I'm better than wine, how come that's what you have been drinking for the last hours?" you asked with a raised brow. With a genuinely shocked expression, Dionyuss shot up and stared at you wide-eyed. "You're right. I should have been drinking you, you are so much sweeter-"
Groaning, you buried your face in a pillow, considering to suffocate yourself before he could see the blush on your cheeks. Then again, how receptive could he be, in his state? Turns out, very receptive. When you discarded the pillow, his eyes hushed over the pink on your cheeks and he cooed. "Aw, baby, do you like it when I tell you how sweet you are?"
Ignoring your stubborn but whispered 'no thank you', Dionysus threw an arm around your shoulder, continuing to brabble compliments and praises into your ear. Embarrassingly, your cheeks burned even more and the god laughed joyfully.
"Baby, the way you blush... I’ve seen people lose their minds over less."
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depraved-love · 1 month ago
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Pride Library
You arrive at a cool but cozy library, each section decorated according to its theme. At the entrance sits an exhausted-looking librarian.
“Oh? Why, hello dear. Let me guess - looking for a story fitting the occasion? A lot has already been checked out, but I’m sure you’ll find something just right!”
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(I feel the need to mention that this year's Pride stories are Greek mythology-themed but take place in their own universe—particularly within my yandere and monster-ridden world.) I'm only prettyfor myself and you. - Scylla X Siren F!Reader
Pour us another cup - Dionysus X Satyr M!Reader
×Checked out!×
×Checked out!×
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