#hera x reader

You belong to the god now, whether by choice or not. None of it seems to matter. You are his lover now. One to do as he pleases. Zeus tries to be romantic, even honest with you at first. Would you rather he take the form of some animal or a strange unfamiliar man? The god enjoys the sight far more than he anticipated. You – naked under his touch, his mercy. Eyes brimmed with tears and if you tried to move your face away, shut your eyes. Anything to make it all the more bearable. He’ll simply tilt your face back. 

There is no questioning that Zeus is greatly fond of you. He has kept you far longer than most of his escapades. That alone sets you apart. But your fate shall remain like any other. Zeus will never be truly loyal to you. Zeus may promise you many things; gifts beyond your imagination. He’ll indulge your many whims, drape you in gold and silk, say all the sweet words. Yet you’ll never be owed his faithfulness. 

So he may take lovers as he pleases. You, however, are not granted the same privilege. For all his indulgence, Zeus is terribly jealous. Shall you dare to entertain any notion even if it’s a mere mimicking of a romantic closeness. You may as well have written your signature on their fate. Their crops, their houses all destroyed, following their death. Zeus will tell you it was mercy. For he knows many ways, countless ways to make one’s end slow and agonizing. And because he is a merciful god, he’ll not tolerate a second time. 

Zeus is not willing to entertain the idea of you remaining among other mortals for too long. Not when they look at you too freely, something he considers his. You’ll be taken somewhere hidden. Safe from Hera’s wrath. She wouldn’t harm you. She wouldn’t dare. But Zeus doesn’t want to take the risk. He promises protection. Do you wish to face his wife’s wrath? Other gods’ trickery? You’ll live in a palace of marble with servants for your every need. Would you not want to be spoiled and doted upon by a god?

HERA

Hera is the goddess of marriage, family and childbirth as well as the queen of Olympians. Hera is proud and clever, but she is also infamous for her jealousy and vengeful nature. Being the goddess of marriage, she remained faithful to Zeus, not taking lovers. But what were the odds that Hera would find herself entranced by a mortal, the very mortal being you. 

The goddess takes it all as an insult, a wound to her pride. At first, she hates you for this perceived betrayal. How could you, a mere mortal, make her feel this strongly? Making this offense even worse is that you continue living blissfully unaware. Oh she is to strike you down where you stand. But you are just so radiant, a delicacy. A flower she wants to pluck all the petals. 

For all her pretense, the goddess designates herself as your protector. No one shall harm or even look at you wrongly. The woman who mocked your appearance awakens with her face scarred beyond recognition or transferred into some beast. The man who catchcalled you shall be struck down with “madness” and for his seed to never bring forth a child. 

It’s not enough for the goddess to just watch you from afar. She wants you to know. That you’re under her divine protection. Hera will find it an insult if you assume any other god is watching you. So it’s not long till you are brought before her. Unlike many gods, she sees no reason for a disguise. Nor does she expect a rejection. 

What Hera expects is awe, loyalty, devotion – as expected from any mortal who is given such an offer. She has been oh so lonely those few days. She clothes you in soft robes, fed to your heart’s content, laying in soft cushions. All by her side of course, as her hands roam your body, a hand inching between your legs. Won’t you like some pleasure and give her some in return, she coaxes. Her husband has been denying her for some time. 

Speaking of her husband, Zeus who is very much known for his jealousy and wrath. Hera assures she’ll protect you, keep you hidden. That is…if you comply. Should you reject her; you’ll not only face her wrath but her husband’s. He will forgive her after some time, the same cannot be said to you. Hera has you right where she wants to and she will never let you go.

POSEIDON

Poseidon is the god of the sea, earthquakes, storms and horses. One of the Olympians who aided in overthrowing cronus. He is tempestuous and vengeful, known for holding long lasting grudges. Poseidon has had many lovers; mortals, nymphs or otherwise – siring multiple demigod children. And in time, you will become one of his notorious lovers. 

The god first took notice of you by the sea. Perhaps you were collecting seashells by the shore or maybe swimming in the shallow water, wet fabric clinging to your skin. For a fleeting moment, Poseidon might have nearly mistaken you for a nymph. Or perhaps you were praying – praying for a loved one’s safe passage across his seas. 

In any other circumstance, Poseidon would have taken you the second you piqued his interest. He is not a god known for his patience. Yet just for a few moments he watches from afar. Not with admiration or tenderness but with lust. With hunger. Poseidon is unashamed in his pursuit. He’ll make it impossible to ignore that there is a powerful force intervening in your everyday life. His version of mercy in preparing you for what's to come. 

Storms will come and go, yet you are left untouched. Still, you can’t help but feel uneasy, the same feeling one gets when they think they’re being watched. Only to turn each time and find nothing. Should anyone get too close to you, news of their misfortunes reach you. Drowning at sea, home torn apart by quakes. Times you dream of the ocean. Day after day the waves call to you. To take a step, further and further till you are deep in the abyss. 

At least, the mystery is solved, the very answer to what seemed to tug at your soul, urging you closer to the sea. Poseidon couldn’t wait any longer. Revealing a bearded man with a trident in his grasp towering over you. You’re given no time to comprehend that the force haunting your dreams, shadowing your every move is the god of sea himself before you’re snatched. 

Your struggles are futile and your cries deafen beneath the waves. Yet you don’t drown. Not even suffocating when the water fills your lungs as the god drags you deeper and deeper where his palace resides; made of coral and pearl. Everything happens too quickly. You are taken with haste. The god is neither gentle nor slow. Doing nothing but taking his thrusts, eager to make his claim. Make you his lover with no room for refusal. And if you prove worthy one day, be a good little sweetling, he may grant you immortality.

HADES

Hades is the king of the underworld, the god of the dead. It was said Hades was grim, stern and unyielding. Unlike his brothers, he kept to his realm, hardly visiting the world above; unmoved by prayer or sacrifice. Hades never intended to fall in love, he was no Apollo or Zeus – a mortal lover was not something that crossed his mind, but somehow you vexed the king of the underworld. 

Perhaps the god first saw you draped in mourning clothes, lighting candles for the dead. Eyes soft with sorrow and hands clasped. Hades couldn’t understand what drew him to you so strongly. Was it your beauty? You were watched for some time and before you knew it, you were abducted by one riding a chariot. Feeling the earth crumble as you’re dragged to the underworld, to a realm you are forced to call home. 

Hades would, surprisingly, not force himself on you. At least not right away. Not because of some moral obligation, but because he sees no need for it. You have no one. No other god to reason with. No trickery, no hidden knowledge that can help you escape the Underworld. You are simply trapped, with no choice but to fight some useless internal battle or accept this realm as your new realm. 

For now, Hades wishes to give you no further reason to hate or fear him. Eternity will be spent here; no need to rush the inevitable. He gives you space. Taking it upon himself to treat you well. You’re not chained in one place, allowed to walk freely throughout the Underworld though certain areas are forbidden. Whatever creature or soul you encounter will not dare to lay a hand on you. 

There will be as much food and drink as you desire, a warm and soft bed to lay in, gifts and comforts almost fit for a queen. Yet you are denied one thing. Never again feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, never watching another sunset, never watching the stars glint at night. And there is no shaking that feeling off – the one that strikes up your spine, that unrests your stomach; the god wants something. Something you can't take back.

If you recoil from his touch, that is fine. As said, the god will give you all the time you need. But even an eternal being finds that thread of patience loosening. All due in time, Hades will have you underneath him; naked and wreathing. Either cause you came to him willingly or he thought your fragile mind could endure it. Hades will have no need for other lovers, why would he need them with you at his side? A pretty little thing he’ll have seated upon his lap as he rules from his throne. 

DEMETER

Demeter is the Goddess of agriculture, of harvest and grain. She is responsible for the fertility of Earth. She is well known, above all, for her infamous grief when her daughter Persephone was abducted by Hades, causing a famine around the world, explaining the cycle of seasons. The goddess has loved a mortal before. Ending in tragedy with Zeus killing him out of jealousy with his thunderbolt. 

One would assume such a thing wouldn’t occur again. Yet there must have been someone who was wishing for your downfall. For how else would your fate end with catching the eyes of a goddess? Demeter noticed your existence long before you ever crossed paths. Even before she allowed herself to feel anything. You weren’t special, no divine blood, no beauty to make men wage wars, nothing remarkable to set you apart from the rest of humanity. 

Still you remain in her thoughts. Perhaps she is reaching out to you out of loneliness. Persephone is gone once more, returning to Hades in the underworld. Yet even during her ‘grief’ when winter arrives with its harsh snow. You step outside your home to find flowers still blooming, your crops growing just fine. Your neighbors have said that you’re blessed.  

Demeter sees your hesitation. How you glance around, at the sky; clearly confused as anyone would. Oh, how she wishes to just reveal herself, wrap her arms around you and soothe it all the way.  She tries holding off as long as she can. And when she can’t bear it, Demeter will not reveal her true divine form. Coming to you in the form of some old traveler. She speaks kindly, wanting to hear the sound of your voice up so close. The disguise doesn’t last long before Demeter finally shows her divine form in gold and green robes, hair woven with dried grasses. 

In shock, unable to comprehend such beauty, you fall to your knees. Demeter only chuckles, reassuring you there is no need to fear as she draws you close. She’ll take you to Mount Olympus where she is prepared to face Zeus and his wrath. Demeter will do anything, bargain even. If she must keep you a few months at a time, she’ll accept. If she must make you immortal, then so be it. 

Refusal is not a choice you can make, for you will face her wrath instead. A terrible famine will come upon your homeland; your friends and family will starve. So why don’t you just stay with her? She will force your head on her lap, let her take care of you. Become her lover. And when Persephone comes to visit, oh she cannot wait to introduce you. Her daughter will take a liking to you, she assures.

ATHENA

Athena was the goddess of wisdom, strategy and handicraft. She was disciplined, a goddess who valued wit. Stubborn and proud. She refused marriage and was believed to have never taken a lover. So imagine the utmost surprise when a mortal catches her eye. A circumstance the goddess herself didn’t believe would come to fruition. Nevertheless, your fate has been sealed. 

It all started with a simple curiosity. Perhaps in her temple or in one of the many libraries inspired by her. Still when that curiosity turned into interest; it took some time. Athena is not as impulsive as Apollo nor as hasty as Zeus. She’ll merely watch. Even the goddess of wisdom, if confronted, couldn’t entirely explain why you caught her eye in the first place. 

Observing the way you move around, how you sit with a book resting in your hands – fingers carefully flipping the pages. Your eyes are so full of life, of curiosity. Sometimes you sit near her statue, gazing up at it with awe. To you, she only exists in myths. An interesting figure you cannot help but admire, speaking to her statue as if she’ll listen. And she does. Oh how eloquent you sound. 

Still, Athena will not make her move. As said, she is far more patient than most. Athena will allow you to believe that she is out of reach. But there is a string of luck that surrounds you; subtle. Never too obvious for others to be able to piece it together. If someone dares to harm you such as a thief, they trip and fall upon their own blade. If you could stumble that will result in serious injury, it feels as if an invisible force is keeping you upright, steadying you. You belong to the goddess. After all, you dedicated yourself to her, did you not? And in return, you will remain in her protection. 

When Athena finally decides to make her move. At last approach you. It’s not in her true form, but rather in the form of an old woman or another curious scholar who happened to find you between the scroll columns. She doesn’t want to alarm you. No, she rather you ease yourself, to fall into her arms. Truthfully it’s another test. Athena has already set her mind. She’s certain. But just one last push to see if you are worthy of her. And you did not disappoint. 

She pretends to need your assistance. Discuss all sorts of matters; philosophy, politics, poetry. She asks such personal questions even when she already knows the answers to each. And when she thinks you are ready. Truly ready. She stands tall in a chiton with a spear plated firmly on the ground; revealing her true form. You would not reject her, would you. It would be an insult, the greatest form of disrespect. She offers you to be her companion, willingly. Not by force. So would you dare to offend a goddess?

ARTEMIS

Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, the wilderness and wild animals. She was fierce and strong-willed, known to be protective over those she cared for and at times had a vengeful nature. Artemis famously vowed and maintained eternal chastity. Still, the vow doesn’t stop the goddess from claiming you as hers. Oh she would be a fool to not take the lure for herself. 

She finds you alone. Wandering through the woods, plucking berries from the bushes or washing yourself in the riverbank – your naked body glowing under the sun. To the goddess, you remind her of a deer. Gentle, delicate and...vulnerable. Artemis shared her twin’s passion, but while her brother would have swept you off your feet by now, she shall bide her time. 

So the goddess stalks her prey. She knows all your favorite spots, the paths you take home, your hums by heart, your favorite flowers to pluck and admire. You swear you could hear branches crack behind you, spinning around to see nothing. Animals seem to circle you. You can feel eyes between the forest trees. Something’s off, but there is nothing you can prove. 

Artemis wishes you remain a little longer, she enjoys your little visits and yes she can easily follow you all the way home. But she rather you stay here, in her domain. With a little touch and tug from the Goddess, tiredness overtakes you. Drowsiness lulling your body to sleep in the green fields. Unaware the goddess will lay next to you, caressing and admiring your face. And when you finally awaken, it’s to find wildflowers either braided into your hair or crowned on top of your head. 

Artemis waits until the moment feels right; she has done enough to ease you into finally meeting her. A tall strikingly beautiful woman shall appear before you, dressed in a simple chiton with high sandals. Approaching your trembling form, cupping your face – promising no harm will come. 

From now on, you belong to the goddess. She will take you to come live with her, wouldn’t that be nice? Where you will eat berries from her hand, bathe together under the moonlight. She promises to make you happy. If you try to flee you’ll be surrounded by haunting dogs, wolves, stags, whatever she chooses. If you cry, she’ll wipe your tears, urging you to just accept your fate, to stop making this harder for yourself. If you beg to return home, she’ll say she is your home now.

ARES

Ares was the god of war and courage. He was impulsive, proud and short-tempered. Reasons he was disliked by many gods and mortals. Having a mortal lover was nothing unusual for the god of war, but for some reason, you were a spoil, a prize Ares refused to let go of. The other gods could hear your pleas of mercy but none stepped in. You realize the harsh truth; you’re very much alone. 

It's what sets Ares apart from most gods. He doesn’t leave signs that you caught his eye nor does he shower you with blessings nor does he leave gifts at your doorstep. Ares doesn’t even bother entertaining the idea of leaving you mingling with the other mortals. He won’t share, won’t allow others to admire or touch what he already considers to be his own. 

So you’re taken. One moment you are living the everyday rhythms to the next thing being forced on a war horse; a tight grip around your waist. You can try to struggle, you can try to cry out. It makes no difference, if anything the god loves the fire in you. Taken to Thrace, where you’ve yet to register the green fields, the vast hills and mountains before forcibly taken right there and then. 

Your clothes are torn as the god lays you underneath him. He chases his pleasure, he loses himself in it. Every thrust is ruthless, driven deeper while you breathlessly sob. In his own form of mercy, Ares at least tries to make it pleasurable for you as well, to ensure you reach your climax, He tells you to simply accept it, to give into your body’s desire. 

The days blur together and in the cruelest ironic twist of irony, it’s not as horrible as one might believe. Yes he stole you away and yes he forced himself upon you. But Ares truly desires nothing more than your devotion, for you to look at him with love, to grow to worship him. He brings you to dine with him. To sleep beside him. To sit on his lap. 

He’ll entertain your little spats. When you turn your face aside or hand away from his touch. This small rebellion is all amusing to him. Still, he is a prideful god. If you insult him, reject him outright, he will remind you where you stand. He is being far lenient – you don’t want to see what happens when he is not. So you learn not to fight him, to lean into his touch, to murmur the right words. He becomes generous, indulgent even and in time being seated on his lap won’t feel like a humiliation ritual.

HEPHAESTUS

Hephaestus is the god of fire, carpenters, blacksmiths and metalworking. The god can be capable of loyalty and hard work yet just as prone to be vengeful, selfish and moody. In some myths, it was Hera who threw him off Olympus and in some, it’s Zeus. Either way rejection is something Hephaestus knows all too well. To rub salt on the wound, his wife famously had an affair with the god of war. So is it truly surprising that you have caught his eye? 

It could be that you were given as an offering, a sacrifice to appease the volcanic eruptions or left abandoned on a cursed island. What was expected to be a slow or quick death ends with a miracle. The god doesn’t reveal himself at first. Leaving tools to help build your shelter and live another night, before he ever spoke to you. He watched as you accepted them, thinking they were fortunes a kind soul has lent to you. 

For a god, Hephaestus is painfully lonely and emotionally starved. You have become his fascination, burning through his bitterness. His thoughts revolve around you obsessively. Desperate to get you in his arms. To which he does, not caring if you struggle, not caring if you cry out as you’re brought to his domain, forever trapped in there. 

Hephaestus hates it when you cower or cry at your predicament. He grows angry and confused. Does he not keep you safe? Don’t make him punish you. He shall treat you gently if you yield to him instead of being so stubborn. Hephaestus is eager to provide, will that make you happy? Shall you want a jewel? A crown? A mirror with enchantment? Let him craft anything your heart desires. 

Even with small chances of it happening; Hephaestus is terrified of you leaving him. He'll seal every exit, ensure there are no hidden passages or cracks for you to slip through. The god likes to keep you close while he works especially when you watch him molt and bend something he’s making just for you. Hephaestus tells you the mortal world is cruel and unsafe. They would envy your gifts, steal or kill you for them. Why would you wish to return? 

His jealousy runs so deep that he even forges a veil that keeps you ‘hidden’ from the other gods. Hephaestus wants your constant reassurance, won’t you shower him with love? Be at his side and press kisses all over, whisper sweet words on how much you adore him, desire him. Be compliant and willing when he rips your clothes, when he promises you a life of just the two of you, forever in love. 

APOLLO

Apollo was the god of archery, music, dance and poetry. Apollo was wise, but passionate, arrogant, vain and wrathful especially when he felt his pride was wounded. Even your worst enemies would pity you to know that you have caught the eye of Apollo; for you might as well be considered cursed. When Apollo falls in love, he falls in love hard. His love is fierce and all burning, it will engulf you, swallow you whole. 

The god may have first seen you during a festival. Or you were simply laying in a sunlight field, ignorant to your dooming fate. With Apollo, there is no patience, no time. He has watched you only briefly and thinks you must be his. Already imagining a lifetime together – spoiling you, loving you, doting on you. Your future has already been decided and it will begin with him. 

So Apollo makes himself known right away. He’ll write poetry praising your beauty, your voice, your very essence. He’ll compose and play melodies dedicated just for you. And the gift never ends such as a lyre despite you never playing one. It’s all too…overwhelming but there is not much room to refuse a god’s offering. 

Therefore Apollo expects delight, awe, worship when he finally reveals himself. Has he not spoiled you enough?  Shown you the depth of his love and devotion? And his beauty will have you —  a simple mortal starstruck. Apollo doesn’t wait long before pouncing on you, his lips on yours. He wants to make love right there and then.

That said if you dare to reject him. Apollo will stop, almost frozen in place. His smile will falter, face hardening. Even if you try to reason; it’s all too much, it’s all too fast. Apollo won’t accept it. He will repeat your words back to you as giving you a chance to reconsider. A final mercy. And if you stand your ground, then so be it. 

Apollo will curse you. Let you return to your mundane life. Let you suffer the consequences of your choice. Given visions that are cryptic, terrible frightening dreams night after night. If you once loved to hum or sing, he’ll go far as to take your voice away. The curse shall do nothing but bring misery. Should you try to move on, suitors will either be turned blind or cursed by madness as well. All you have to do is run back to him. Choose him and he’ll undo it all. Crawl back to his arms, does that not sound wonderful? 

APHRODITE

Aphrodite is the goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and sexuality. She is vain, manipulative, jealous and vengeful like many gods. Her being so interested in a mortal is not much of a surprise yet it remains a mystery to how you’ve caught her eye. Who knew the goddess of beauty herself would find you so beautiful, but not as beautiful as her course. You were a fruit that was ripe, ready for the taking, and who was Aphrodite to deny herself such a temptation. 

Aphrodite doesn’t exactly fall in love with you. Love seems too simple. You have enchanted her. Made her addicted to your very existence. She spends most of her time now watching you, takes notice of everything you do, of  everyone who you talk to. She knows all there is to know. Still the goddess isn’t satisfied. It is not enough. She must have you; wholly and carnally. 

The goddess hates how you think yourself so ordinary. How you busy yourself trying to please other mortals, listening to their demands and trivial concerns. They are all beneath you. Aphrodite often lends help, intervening even when it's not needed. She enhances your beauty. Others notice; no longer tormented with dark circles, acne. Your skin glows, your smile seems brighter. Captivating all those around you. 

Aphrodite makes you never notice the little transformations, leaving you so confused as to why you’re showered in so many compliments. But that means more attention, more possible pursuers. Aphrodite curses them all. How dare they desire what’s hers, think they can even compete? They will be turned ugly, grotesque even. Some incompetent so they can never get it up. 

The goddess thinks enough is enough. She will go mad if she waits a second longer. The goddess can change her form to whoever gazes upon her, so you have no choice but to find her so devastatingly beautiful. To feel nothing but the arousal that coils low in your stomach. She chuckles at how flustered you seem around her, how you can’t even look at her without stumbling over your words, aren’t you just adorable?

Simple as it is, she wastes little finding her way to your bed. Even if you hesitate. Even if you think there is something odd about all of this. Her touches are gentle as they roam your body, coaxing you with her honeyed voice. You will not be able to resist her, she made it that you can’t. She will make you love her. Get rid of all your senses, your doubts so it’s her and just her you feel. And when she reveals herself, there is no escaping. That you won’t know if it’s her manipulation or you truly desiring her. In time, the difference will no longer matter. 

HERMES

Hermes is the god of traders and travelers. He is the protector of thieves and orators, said to be a “bringer of good luck”. Hermes is known to be quickwitted, cunning and a mischievous trickster. He is able to move through realms, often acting as the bridge. That said, your life does unravel when the god notices you. 

He doesn’t fall in love dramatically like Apollo or Aphrodite per say. You simply intrigued him. Why, he cannot say. You are neither the most beautiful nor the cleverest still the god was interested, a little bored too. He found himself circling your home, following you across the sky. Waiting for the right moment.

Perhaps you drop something or perhaps you are lost in an unfamiliar place, Hermes appears conveniently. Not as himself, but as a young handsome traveler. He offers assistance showing you the way. He makes you laugh, charms you with so much ease. It’s all going according to plan, how gullible and naive mortals are and you, his silly sweetling are no different. 

Hermes makes all sorts of excuses to keep coming back. He warms his way into your heart. Going on long walks, handing you gifts from his ‘travels’, speaking of stories from distant lands. Hermes also has a way of avoiding all your questions, too clever with his words. He eventually warms himself into your home, teasingly stealing your things and returning them in the strangest places. When you question how he did it without you noticing. He’ll jest he has quick hands (and feet). 

It’s not too long before he also warms his way into your bed, becoming your lover. You have grown to trust him, telling him of your dreams and fears, none the wiser. Growing accustomed to Hermes leaving for long periods of time yet forgiving him each time he returns. 

It is at the worst possible moment when Hermes reveals himself. During another one of your passionate love making. By the time you realize, it was too late. As you were lost in pleasure to not see his features change, the slight gleam of light. When you try to push him away, to flee, do anything. He only cages you beneath him, chuckling; Hermes teases you, asking if it really took you that long to notice. 

DIONYSUS

Dionysus is the god of wine, vegetation, festivity and ecstasy. Known to bring joy and release to his followers, but also unleash madness and brutality; making him quite a terrifying god. He is a god driven by feelings, his emotions always burning hot. And there you were, a mortal he can bring to ruin. Catching his attention in one of his wandering festivals. 

You’re not drunk, not yet at least or simply not enough to fully lose yourself. The god is captivated, for whatever reason. He approaches in a handsome mortal form, walking through the celebration just to get to you. He charms you. Praising you, easing you into him. And then he offers you a cup. Just one sip. You hesitate of course, he is a stranger making an offer. But Dionysus has his ways, he tempts you. Just take it, you know you want to. 

One sip of the wine has you downing it. It tastes divine; like honey, so sweet. Even having the urge to ask for more. The world seems all the more alive, colors more vibrant, the sounds melt into melodic laughter. You are in complete bliss as giggles escape your lips. Dionysus kisses you and you lost in it all, let him, even kiss him back. 

Dionysus dances with you still in his mortal form, spinning you around even briefly lifting you. The god lays you on his lap among the soft cushions after. Finally showing his divine self. Those around are indulging their desires further, becoming a puddle of naked bodies. Their moans reach your ears as Dionysus has you all to himself and soon enough your moans join theirs. 

Your days are all blurred together, time passing like a running river. You're spoiled and adored by the god of wine. Flowers braided into your hair, fruit fed to you by his hands. Either you are up dancing with him, parading you to his followers or resting in his lap even sleeping against his chest. Anyone who touches you without his consent will dance till their feet bleed or he’ll have his maenads tear them apart in a frenzy. 

It could be the wine wearing off or even witnessing the horrifying act that snaps you briefly back to your senses. Given a moment of sobriety, you try to make a run for it. His followers surround you, trapping you from leaving. Dionysus will embrace you from behind as he offers you another cup back to your lips. Don’t leave. Lose yourself again. Let him cherish you. And as your mind is in haze again, he wonders aloud wouldn’t it be beautiful if he made you immortal?

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 everyone on olympus was shocked to receive the new about hera and zeus the queen and king of the gods has gotten a divorce. at first no one believes it thinking zeus would never let hera go but everyone was stunned when they found the truth.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 no one knows what really happened, or they do but they don't know what happened THIS time. did zeus cheat again? but if that is the case why she's leaving just now? and how did he agree to this? overall, no one else was in the room where it happened (get this reference please)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 what shocked them more than hera actually remarry again after a while from this whole mess and this time she marry a small goddess who was living on olympus, you!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 they all accept zeus to absolutely crash out, but he didn't.. which is weird..

ᯓᡣ𐭩 after marrying hera the goddess of marriage and family all of Olympus notice your hate and rage toward zeus. everyone assume it's just because he's hera ex husband or because he treated hera wrong, but ohh they were so wrong about it

ᯓᡣ𐭩 you see, you were small goddess living on olympus who had the misfortune on getting the unnecessary attention from the king of the gods. he try approaching you, but you held high respect of hera and couldn't do this to her, so you refuse thinking maybe that'll stop him. but ohh you were so wrong.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 everyone recognize you after that. you were one of zeus many victims who he force himself on them. typical of zeus, so no one really blamed you for hating him, not even his own children stand with his actions.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 away from hating zeus everyone also recognize you from your love to your wife hera, unlike most gods here you were actually so loyal to her and even went as far as punishing anyone who dare to flirt or even approach you in romantic way, after all your heart belongs to hera and hera alone.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 and hera was the happiest she ever was in her immortal life, even sometimes you need to sit down and assure her you only ever loved her and that what it will be like for eternity. i mean let's give hera a break, she was never treated life ever since she got with zeus.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 even if hera wasn't the queen of the gods anymore everyone respect her as she is, even if she's not wife of zeus thay doesn't mean she'll lose her place or respect between the other gods. she's a goddess in her own well.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 all hera kids loves you and i mean LOVES you, ares, hebe, Eileithyia and even Hephaestus. even if you're not their biological mother they all held high respect for you for loving their mom and giving her what she deserves.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ares would be awkward at first but he'll be more than happy to see his mom happy even if it's not with his father. hebe and Eileithyia would go as far as calling you mom and you absolutely cry when they first call you their other mother, Hephaestus isn't even zeus child so he'll like you for being chill.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 of course certain someone didn't like that his children calling his ex's new wife mother but what will he do about it? he has way more children to worry about.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 non to say hera's peacocks absolutely adore you just as much as she did, always having one in your lap as you enjoy nice tea with your amazing beautiful wife.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 the other gods start liking you more, aside from the hate you show to zeus and the passion you show to your wife, you were still kind, respectful goddess which they all appreciate, for some reason some of them think you'll hate them just like hera for being zeus fertility children, but you couldn't care about anything to do with zeus.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 now back to hera, no need to say she was the BEST wife on olympus, i mean she was loyal to zeus even after everything he put her through so give her credit for that. she's loyal, loving and caring. she'd never treat you wrong in anyway, maybe she'll be a little paranoid at the first of your relationship but you don't blame her for that, don't you dare.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 kisses and cuddles are usual in your relationship, she has duties to do? don't forget to kiss her cheek before going! oh you need to do something real quick? it's fine a kiss on a head won't hurt. you're going to sleep? come on a little kiss there and there won't do nothing!

ᯓᡣ𐭩 she loves kissing your head, whenever you need to leave or doing something she place kiss on your head and tell you how much she's lucky to have you. you on the other side love kissing her hand, treating her the queen she is. whenever you're leaving or having a tea with her you hold her hand close to your lips kissing her knuckles softly then kissing her ring finger.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 you're the happiest and the healthiest couple on olympus and no one can disagree with that, even Aphrodite is your biggest supporter, love her some wuh luh wuh. will maybe expect zeus but no one gives a fuck about him right ladies?

The golden halls of Mount Olympus were, to put it mildly, a snooze-fest. Zeus was delivering his ten-thousandth lecture on the proper etiquette for thunderbolt appreciation. Hera was seen polishing her crown, occasionally shooting glares that could curdle ambrosia at anyone who dared breathe too loudly. Ares was sharpening a sword with such vigor it sounded like a chorus of angry cicadas. In short, it was just another Tuesday.

You were perched on a cloud, idly trying to teach a cherubic cloud-sheep to play fetch with a miniature lightning bolt—It wasn't going well – the sheep mostly just looked confused and slightly singed—when a familiar blur of winged sandals and an even more familiar grin appeared beside you.

"Bored, darling?" Hermes asked, already knowing the answer. He didn't so much sit as materialize in a state of relaxed readiness, one eyebrow arched in a way that screamed 'I have an idea, and it's probably against several divine decrees.'

"Hermes," you sighed, giving up on the sheep, which had now decided the mini-bolt was a chew toy. "If I have to listen to one more syllable about thunderbolt acoustics, I might actually volunteer for Sisyphus's rock-rolling duty. At least that's got a consistent rhythm."

Hermes snapped his fingers. "My dearest partner in potential pandemonium, you read my mind! Or, well, I read yours. Perks of the job. Anyway, this celestial serenity? It's offensively dull. I was thinking Olympus could use a little... redecorating." His eyes sparkled with the kind of mischief that promised laughter, chaos, and possibly a few minor divine tantrums.

"Redecorating?" you echoed, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Are we talking a new color scheme for the throne room, or something a bit more... interactive?"

"Oh, 'interactive' is my middle name," Hermes declared, puffing out his chest slightly. "Well, it's not, but it should be. I'm thinking a series of carefully curated experiences designed to liven things up. A festival of delightful disorder, if you will. And I, the God of Messengers, Thieves, and Excellent Ideas, require a co-conspirator of your particular genius."

And so, the Great Olympian Prank War was conceived, not with a bang, but with a shared smirk and the rustle of winged sandals itching for action.

Phase One: The King's New Squeak Toy

"Alright," you whispered, huddled with Hermes behind a particularly fluffy cloud that offered excellent surveillance of Zeus's private study. "Target number one: Papa Zeus. The man takes himself more seriously than a philosopher contemplating the meaning of a particularly stubborn olive."

Hermes nodded, already vibrating with barely contained energy. "The plan is simple, yet elegant. We swap his Master Bolt – the big, dramatic one he uses for emphasis – with... this!" He produced, with a flourish, a gigantic rubber chicken. It was bright yellow, had googly eyes that seemed to follow you, and when squeezed, emitted a sound that was less 'mighty thunder' and more 'strangled duck.'

"Perfection," you breathed. "But how do we create a diversion? He guards that bolt like Cerberus guards... well, you know."

Hermes winked. "Leave that to your friendly neighborhood speedster. You just be ready for the fallout. I predict a seventy percent chance of divine apoplexy, twenty percent confused sputtering, and a solid ten percent chance he actually finds it funny. Nah, who am I kidding? Zero percent on that last one."

True to his word, Hermes was a blur. One second, Zeus was admiring his bolt, the next, he was distracted by a sudden, inexplicable infestation of hyperactive squirrels — a Hermes special delivery — in Hera's nearby rose garden. The ensuing shrieks and calls for extermination provided the perfect window. Hermes zipped in, made the swap, and was back by your side, dusting off his hands, before Zeus even noticed the squirrels were, in fact, an illusion.

Later that day, during an emergency council meeting called to discuss the "grave threat" of the phantom squirrels, Zeus prepared to make a thunderous proclamation. He raised his hand, a dramatic pause filling the hall. He opened his mouth, ready to unleash verbal fury and a crackle of lightning...

SQUEEEAAAK!

The sound echoed. Zeus stared at the rubber chicken in his hand as if it had personally insulted his entire lineage. Poseidon, mid-sip of his saltwater smoothie, choked and sprayed a fine mist over a horrified Demeter. Apollo outright howled with laughter, falling off his sunbeam. Athena, ever composed, merely raised an eyebrow, though the corner of her mouth twitched.

"WHAT," Zeus bellowed, his face turning a fascinating shade of purple that clashed spectacularly with the yellow chicken, "IN THE NAME OF TARTARUS IS THIS?!"

Hermes, leaning against a pillar and buffing his nails, called out innocently, "Having some technical difficulties, Father?"

You had to stuff your fist in your mouth to keep from exploding with laughter.

Phase Two: Aphrodite's Azure Adventure

"Next up," you said, consulting the "Master Plan of Mayhem" you'd scribbled on a spare piece of ambrosia-scented parchment, "Aphrodite. She's been a bit too smug about her new 'Glow of Eternal Perfection' skin cream."

Hermes tapped his chin. "Ah, yes. The one that supposedly smells like 'a thousand dawn-kissed roses and the tears of unicorns who've just won the lottery.' We can do better."

Your grin was positively wicked. "I was thinking something a little more... vibrant."

The plan involved a delicate operation: replacing Aphrodite's prized cream with a concoction of your own. It still smelled divine, but it had a secret ingredient: a highly concentrated, fast-acting, but entirely harmless dye that would turn skin a brilliant, shimmering cerulean blue.

While Aphrodite was engrossed in a heated debate with Eros about the proper trajectory for love arrows: "Aim for the heart, not the kneecap, darling! It's about romance, not orthopedic surgery!"

Hermes, moving like a whisper, made the switch. He even left a tiny, complimentary "sample" of the blue goo for Ares, labelled "Macho Man Muscle Rub - Extra Potent!"

The results were spectacular. Aphrodite emerged for the evening symposium looking like a very surprised, very beautiful Smurf. There was a collective gasp. Hephaestus, her ex husband, actually dropped his hammer.

"My... my glow!" she shrieked, catching her reflection in Apollo's polished lyre. "I'm... I'm BLUE!"

Dionysus, never one to miss an opportunity for revelry, immediately declared, "Blue is the new gold, my dear! Utterly divine! A bold statement! You're a trendsetter!" He then tried to convince everyone to paint themselves blue in solidarity, an idea that was met with mixed, but mostly horrified, reactions.

Meanwhile, a distant roar of "HERMES! YOU INSIGNIFICANT GNAT! MY PECS ARE THE COLOR OF A FORGET-ME-NOT!" echoed from Ares's training grounds.

You and Hermes shared a high-five, nearly collapsing with silent laughter behind a statue of Hestia, who simply shook her head with an air of long-suffering amusement.

Phase Three: Hades Gets a Hobby

"Okay, this one's a bit more challenging," you mused, tapping the parchment. "Hades. He's not easily ruffled. And frankly, a bit scary."

Hermes waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense! Uncle Hades just needs a little... brightening up. A new passion! A hobby!"

"And what hobby did you have in mind for the Lord of the Underworld?" you asked, skeptical.

Hermes's grin was pure, unadulterated mischief. "Competitive flower arranging."

It took some doing. First, Hermes had to "acquire"—he insisted it was a long-term loan—several crates of the brightest, most cheerful flowers from Persephone's secret garden in the Underworld – much to her initial confusion and eventual begrudging amusement when she figured out who was behind it. Then, you both snuck into Hades's throne room—which, surprisingly, had excellent acoustics for dramatic pronouncements but terrible lighting for floral artistry.

You carefully arranged the flowers into elaborate, almost aggressively cheerful bouquets, placing them on his obsidian throne, his desk of damned souls' paperwork, and even perching a particularly vibrant sunflower on Cerberus's middle head. The pièce de résistance was a giant banner you'd fashioned from black silk that was borrowed from Nyx and glowing phosphorus borrowed from... well, best not to ask, proclaiming: "HADES: OLYMPUS'S PREMIER PETAL PUSHER!"

When Hades next entered his domain, he stopped dead. He stared at the explosion of color. He stared at the banner. He stared at Cerberus, who wagged his tail, the sunflower bobbing merrily.

For a long moment, the only sound was the distant wailing of the tormented which was the standard Underworld ambiance. Then, a slow, creaking sound emerged from Hades. It took you a moment to realize he was... chuckling. A dry, rusty chuckle, like tombstones rubbing together, but a chuckle nonetheless.

"Flower arranging," he rumbled, picking up a daisy and examining it with a surprisingly gentle touch. "Persephone will be... intrigued." He didn't even seem mad. In fact, he looked almost... pleased?

Hermes looked at you, bewildered. "Well, that was unexpected. I was banking on at least a minor curse."

"Maybe he's got a secret soft spot for daisies?" you offered.

The Grand Finale: The Ambrosia Switcheroo

For your grand finale, you decided to go big. The annual "Feast of Eternal Boredom" — as you and Hermes had privately nicknamed it— was approaching. The highlight was always Zeus's toast, followed by the ceremonial sipping of the "Nectar of Unending Power," a beverage so potent it made mortals spontaneously combust. Allegedly; no one had actually tested it.

"This year," Hermes declared, rubbing his hands together, "the Nectar of Unending Power will have a little... extra kick."

Your "extra kick" was a carefully brewed potion, with ingredients sourced from Hecate's 'for experimental use only' shelf, thanks to a very fast Hermes, that had a peculiar side effect: for one hour, everyone who drank it would speak only in rhyming words. And, for an added dash of fun, their hair would temporarily change to the color of their deepest, most secret admiration.

The feast was in full swing. Gods and goddesses mingled, blissfully unaware of the impending poetic and chromatic chaos. Zeus stood, raising his goblet. "To Olympus!" he boomed. "May our power never fade, and our enemies always be afraid!"

He drank. The other gods followed suit.

A moment of silence. Then Apollo, his golden hair suddenly streaked with the vibrant purple of something you could almost hint as a Hyacinth, blinked and said, "My lyre feels quite absurd, I've just spoken a rhyming word!"

Pandemonium.

Hera, whose usually brown hair was now a shocking shade of peacock blue—matching her favorite bird, not Zeus, notably— shrieked, "Oh dear, what is this curse I feel? This rhyming speech is so unreal!"

Ares, his hair an unsurprisingly shade of soft pink, roared, "By my spear, this is a fright! I cannot seem to speak things right!"

Aphrodite, whose own hair was now a mosaic of colors reflecting at least three different minor deities and a particularly handsome satyr, giggled, "My beauty shines, a vibrant hue, though rhyming words feel strange and new!"

Even Hades, whose hair remained stubbornly black (some secrets are best kept in the dark, apparently), grumbled, "This feast has gone quite off the track, I wish these rhymes I could take back."

You and Hermes, who had cleverly substituted your own drinks with plain nectar, were nearly in tears from trying to suppress your laughter. Hermes's hair had a faint shimmer of H/C, and you noticed your own had a distinct golden brown mirroring his. You both caught each other's eye and quickly looked away, a new, unexpected warmth blooming alongside the mirth.

The sight of the most powerful beings in the cosmos struggling to express themselves in iambic pentameter while sporting hairdos that revealed their innermost affections was, by far, your greatest masterpiece.

The Aftermath

The rhyming eventually wore off, as did the technicolor hairstyles—though not before several embarrassing admissions were accidentally poetically declared. Olympus was in an uproar, but beneath the bluster, there was an undeniable lightness. For the first time in centuries, the gods had been genuinely, thoroughly surprised.

Zeus, after a week of demanding to know who was responsible—and secretly enjoying the fact that Hera's hair had not turned thunderbolt-yellow(seriously when will Hera get the happy marriage she deserves), eventually just sighed and ordered a new batch of nectar, "And for Olympus's sake, Hermes, make sure this one isn't... lyrical."

You and Hermes became legends, the Bonnie and Clyde of divine buffoonery. Whenever boredom threatened to settle over Olympus, a nervous energy would ripple through the halls. Gods would check their ambrosia, guard their symbols of power, and eye their hair with suspicion.

"You know, darling" Hermes said to you one evening, watching a particularly spectacular sunset paint the clouds, "we make a pretty good team."

"That we do, Wing-Foot," you replied, bumping his shoulder. "So, what's next on the agenda? I hear Poseidon's been getting a little too proud of his trident lately..."

Hermes's grin was blinding. "My thoughts exactly, partner. My thoughts exactly."