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animereaderinsertwriter · 9 months

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to fuck a god

tags/warnings: smut, ares x nymph!reader, erwin smith x reader, ancient greece au for a hot minute

a/n: this fic is a gift for the lovely, wonderful @bluebellhairpin whom i adore (and is responsible for my schmexy icon!!!!)

There is shouting in the distance.

Your nose wrinkles, your eyes tighten. Darkness, warm and weighted, presses against you, smothering wakefulness. Peace lulls you back to slumber.

Moments later, there is a scream— you hear it past the darkness, past the weight. It is the lonely, abandoned cry of a wounded soldier. Your heart lurches, your eyes flutter.

Still you sleep. It has been too long since last you had rest.

It is a crash that finally wakes you. Pain blossoms in your abdomen as a bridge collapses, a crushing pressure that forces air from your lungs. You rise, hot, raging, vengeful; your waters churn, boiling wine-dark with the blood of mortal men. Battle has come to your riverbank, unbidden and unwanted.

The men do not— cannot— see your body as you emerge from foaming rapids, but that does not lessen the doom they face by the outstretching of your hand. This is your river. The silt and sand beneath their feet, the water in their noses and lungs belong to you; they will not savage it without price

They pay with their lives by the dozen. You extract it from them mercilessly, plunging them beneath the water's surface. As your rapids rage, one man reaches, lunging to gouge another with his spear; even in your wrath, you mark the act as strange. What manner of beast is man that even in the throes of his own death, he seeks to cause another's? You find it too foolish to fathom.

“For Athens!” cries one man just before you fill his lungs with water. “For the noble House of—”

He does not finish. You smother his battle cry with watery death. Athens could burn for all you cared, along with every noble house and home along the way. You cared little for irreverent man; would that the gods would send you power enough to flood them all.

“Such fury from one so small. Would that I could inspire like rage in even fifty men.”

The voice, though gruff and deep, was quiet, bemused. In your distraction, you allow a man to escape your clutches and crawl back to shore, gagging and sputtering as he went. Furious, you turn and find the true object of your ire lounging beneath the shade of a fig tree, a scroll in hand. Once, it might have amused you to find the god of war reading, of all things— but you were accustomed now to his all-too-frequent visits, and the oddity had worn off its charm.

“Restless vagabond,” you spit, feet slapping as you walked from your place in the water to the shore next to his tree. “Go back to Sparta, Ares—you're not wanted here.”

So saying, you fold your arms, waiting for a response. When the god doesn’t deign to reply, you flick water from the tips of your fingers in his direction. Shiny droplets land in his dark hair, glistening like dew; a single shimmer of water races down the thick bridge of his nose, then dives off the blunt tip of it to land on his scroll.

“Woman.”

The word is spoken lowly— a warning— but has no real bite. Your words, however, are far from toothless, heedless of how great and terrible is the power that he wields.

“I am no mere woman— no more than you are mere man.”

Dark-bright eyes look up at you, their russet brown edging on red as they sparkle with mischief. As his gaze follows the curves and plains of your body, Ares smiles— the very definition of crude and lascivious.

“You are a woman in all the ways that count.”

That, you supposed, was true enough.

“Why have you come?”

He nods towards the chaos of your river.

“The men brought me.”

“As if mortal man makes his own war.” Your face contorts into a scowl. “I ask again: Why have you come? Why come you to savage my banks, pollute my waters with foul man-blood and stinking mortal shit?”

“I told you the truth, pretty one.” Ares rolled his scroll gently. It crackled under his huge hands, but did not bend. “The men wage war, and whithersoever they wage, there I must be also.”

“Pretty one,” you grumble, angry at how well the compliment pleased you. “Better wrathful one, or vengeful one.”

“Those too, if it pleases you.”

He stands, brushing grass from his toga. The clothing in question, made of crimson fabric, falls just shy of halfway down his bulging, golden thigh, revealing softly curving muscle. The hulking mass of him throws a shadow long enough to cast doubt and fear into your very bones, even more so as he approaches you— but then he is close, so very close, and murmuring sweetly just for you to hear.

“Come, my Lady Wrath, my Darling Vengeance— does my presence really disturb you so greatly?”

You can smell the battle on him. His scent is metallic, like blood, and salty like sweat— and yet there is also the clean scent of the field, the spice of victory wine, and the smoke of burning bodies. Ares is and always has been a study in opposites, both animal magnetism and soft, reasonable attraction.

"Yes," you admit, striving for exasperation and hitting nearer to tremulous want. "You do disturb me."

A large, warm hand grips your hip. You suddenly become aware of the bareness of your skin, the cool damp of you against the warm heat of him. The contact brings a flush to your cheeks. Your body responds as his hand flexes, squeezing; you can't help but search his gaze, wondering, as ever, what he's thinking.

"I love that you're naked," he says, at once soft and sharp. "Your form pleases me, lady nymph. Your kind are never shy, but you are the only river-sprite I know that dares brave land baring all."

He touches you further, that large, rough hand sliding up the curve of your waist. He spreads his warmth from your hip to your ribcage to your neck, gently exploring. The touch is electric, yet strangely innocent. He is a god admiring Creation. Admiring you.

As before, you allow it— and how could you not?

Who were you to say no to the attention and affection of a god?

"The men are dying in my waters," you say as his fingertips trace your jaw. "I'll fall ill, Ares."

"You shall not. I shall send another of my kin to cleanse you, as I did before."

You have nothing to say in return. As if sensing this, he kisses you, busying your mouth with the more pressing business of his want. Both of his hands are on you now, one on your neck, one at the swell of your ass; as he pulls you close, you can feel the hot, hard length of him against you, protected only by the thin fabric of his toga. The sensation is heady, and you pride yourself on keeping your feet through the ordeal.

"Will you let me have you once more?" he asks against your lips. "What say you, my nymph of rage?"

You consider for a moment. Always, he gives you the choice. You know he needn't— he is stronger, more powerful, and could and had easily taken what he wanted before. It makes you wonder if giving you the choice, allowing you to choose him, is a way for him to conquer you. In the end, it doesn't matter. There was only ever one answer.

"Yes." Your breath comes quick as a calloused thumb brushes over your nipple. "Yes, Lord Ares. I will have you."

In the end, there is no shame. Even Aphrodite herself had been unable to say no to the wiles of the war god. As conqueror, it was not in his nature to be refused.

Having gained your assent, Ares does not waste precious time. Instead, he kisses up your neck, to your ear, taking the lobe of it between his teeth and scraping gently. The act sends goosebumps racing down your flesh, and you shiver. Ares kisses lower, down to the hollow of your throat and the plain of your chest, his hands wandering to hardened, sensitive nipple and gently curving breast. He touches you, explores you, holds you like you are precious, and your body opens to him.

"Spread your legs," he says against your neck. "I want to taste you."

So saying, he lowers himself to his knees, bringing himself of a height with your sex. Filthy and impossible, he noses at the apex of your thighs, nudges your legs apart with his hands; it is everything you can do to remain standing as he begins a great and terrible onslaught against your dignity. It is so much. It is not enough. Your hands move to his hair, pulling the soft strands as a long, thick finger finds your entrance, and he groans as he finds that his finger slips easily inside. Still, he does not budge from his task until you're trembling, quaking above him as your orgasm nears— and even then, it is only to look up at you with glistening mouth and fuck-me eyes and say,

"Kneel."

You can do nothing but obey. You kneel before Ares, and he kisses you, letting you taste your own pleasure from his mouth. It's filthy and perverse and everything you've ever wanted as he lowers you gently to the earth, wrapping your legs around his wide hips. You look up at him, awestruck. In this moment, he is soft, beautiful. He is nothing like you would have imagined War to be.

Ares takes a moment to toss aside his clothing. His sex is even larger than you remember it— or, perhaps his form alters according to his godly will, and he is striving to impress. In any case, your sexes are now aligned— his tip to the very opening of your body— and all that remains is one push before he is fully seated.

Despite all, you find yourself anxious for that push.

"Do it," you urge, smothering that feeling. "Fuck me, Ares."

You can tell it pleases him to hear his name from your mouth. Even so, he does not acquiesce immediately, which both frustrates and endears him to you.

"I'll go slowly," he says. "It is no small thing to fuck a god. I thought you'd have learned that by now."

You have no reply— not when his cockhead is pushing slowly into you, making way for the rest of his large, heavy cock. It is nearly a religious experience, being filled by him. You cry out as he's finally seated deeply within you, and all at once you can no longer tell where you end and he begins.

"Yes," you tell him as he withdraws to begin another slow thrust. "Yes, yes, yes."

The word becomes a song as he picks up the pace. It is a song of moans and cries and deepest feeling— he kisses you as you keen, and the hot, hard length of him slows to an agonizing pace.

"Are you alright?" he asks, as though you are breakable. "Should I slow down?"

It infuriates you.

With all your power, you shove at his chest. At first, be doesn't seem to understand, taken aback by your newfound aggression— but eventually, when you use the force of your hips to indicate your desire, he goes easily backwards, landing with a gentle thump on his back so that you can straddle his hips, impaling yourself on his length. Hands braced on the warm softness of his chest, you begin to grind, pushing him ever deeper into you until both of your breaths come heavy and your time is near.

"You were made to be abed with War," Ares tells you, smiling madly up as you move above him. "Indomitable, you are, and ruthless— I have no doubt that a thousand lives could not separate us."

You barely hear him.

"Lovely creature. I would make you my queen, if I could." His voice pitches upward in a moan of pleasure as you use his body. "I would make you heir to my kingdom of ash and broken bone, would burn worlds for you."

Cogent thought is lost to pleasure, but you feel the meaning of his words. It pushes you closer, so close, so close—

"Come, pretty one," he says, "Awake, destroyer of man. I will catch you if you fall, in this life or the next."

You jerk awake.

A warm hand rests on your shoulder. You turn, groggy with sleep, and find a pair of shining blue eyes peering into your own. Erwin Smith—your husband and commander— has never looked more handsome than now, with chest bare above pajama pants that fall a little too short at his ankle.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks you, tender, gentle. "A nightmare?"

The wetness between your legs indicates otherwise. You guide his large, calloused hand there, wordlessly allowing him to feel your answer, and he smiles.

"In that case, I'm sorry for waking you." He presses a kiss to your temple, a finger pressing into your folds. "You don't get enough downtime as it is."

You hum in agreement and run your hands along the solid, curving lines of his biceps.

"You could always order me on bed rest, commander," you tease as he shifts, placing himself exactly as Ares had in your dream— between your thighs, your legs wrapped around his hips.

"If I did that, nothing would ever get done."

"No? Am I that big of a help, then, that the Scouts couldn't function without me?"

"No," Erwin grinned, mischievous, "It's because if I put you on bed rest, I'd never leave your bed."

You smile, then gasp as he presses against you, cock straining against the thin fabric of his pajamas. The feeling is startlingly familiar, and all at once, Ares' words come back to you.

"You were made to be abed with War. Indomitable, you are, and ruthless— I have no doubt that a thousand lives could not separate us."

You wonder if the dream was entirely that. It felt so raw, so real— and, though Erwin and the Ares of your dream shared little physical similarity, you suspected that they were made of the same parts. Only the paint was different. Ares was bronze and dark where Erwin was pale and blond, but in their hearts— in their dark, violent hearts, capable of more and deeper love than a mortal could imagine— they were the same. They were men made of war, bathed in the blood of innocents.

And they both wanted you.

"Lay back," you tell your husband, pushing at the soft muscle of his chest. "I want to ride you."

Erwin grins.

"I thought you'd never ask."

#ares x reader #ares #erwin smith x reader #ancient greek au #erwin smith #nemo my beloved

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thefuzzzz · 2 months

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Jasico Bingo Challenge #12!!

Prompt: Ancient Greek AU

Nico and Jason had been "friends" for years. Of course, when Hades found out they were more than just that, the two were separated.

"You are children of different realms," Hades had boomed into the echoing halls of his palace, "it can never be."

Nico tried to argue, but his sharp tongue landed him locked in his bedroom for months to come.

"I will find you a rightful suitor. Then, you will be wed," Hades said one night at the dinner table, per Nico's arguing.

"It will be a loveless courtship," Nico had muttered into his plate. What a hypocrite his father was, a man of death married to a woman who sprung up life with every step.

That night, after being locked away in his room again, Nico sat by the window and watched as the night rolled by. Cold wind whipped his hair.

At the sound of whooshing, Nico whipped his head to the side.

There, he found Jason's smiling face held up by his ability to fly. Nico ginned. "My father will kill you if he sees you here," Nico stated, letting their fingers intertwine.

"No matter, I'd die with your face as the last thing I saw."

"You have a death wish."

"You are King Death's son."

Nico laughed lightly. Then, he remembered what his father had said at dinner. Suddenly, nothing felt so funny.

Japan saw the minuscule shift in Nico's face. "What's the matter?"

"My father...he's trying to wed me away," Nico said softly.

Jason raised his eyebrows before thinking. "By what means?"

"I presume the gladiator's arena."

"I'd kill a thousand men for you, Nico.”

Nico tightened the grip on their hands. The wind was impossibly cold. He wished more than anything to drag Jason inside and hold him close in the warmth, but fear kept them at bay.

"Don't...we can find another way. I don't want to watch you be murdered at the hands of some brute over this."

"Over this?" Jason echoed. "Over the loss of my one true love? You know not the lengths I would go for you, my dear."

Nico looked at him, pained. There was no use fighting it, Jason would register as a fighter. All Nico could do was pray he won.

The following days, Nico hardly left his room. Even in the times he was permitted to by his father, he stayed in bed. He preferred to sleep than be awake in a world without Jason. At least in his dreams, he could find joy in his presence.

The first of three days of battles, Nico sat bored in his throne atop the colosseum, right beside his father. He watched as the two opponents of the first battle fought. He listened as they declared their love for him and tried to impress him with flashy moves. Still, he leaned his head on his hand until one man was declared the winner.

The second match was just as boring. Nico caught himself hoping Jason really did enroll. Then, he stopped the thought out. He couldn't bear to see Jason harmed by one of these desperate men.

The third battle of the day dragged on for too long, in everyone's opinion. Nico could've sworn he heard his one father mutter for it to be over already.

The fourth and final battle of the day came soon after, to the whole arena's relief.

Nico, however, was not relieved in the slightest.

Two warriors came out. Neither were Jason. One was a tall man with shaggy dark hair, and the other was as a man in knights armor Nico had never seen before.

He couldn't see either of them well, considering their distance, but he couldn't see the knight at all under the armor. He wished for it to be Jason, but the armor wasn't his own. Deep down, Nico knew it was futile to wish.

The man with dark hair proclaimed undying love for Nico before drawing his sword. The knight stayed silent, which Nico could appreciate.

The fight was at least interesting and quick. The armored man won with ease. His fighting style was unfamiliar, Nico had never seen it before. He wondered what far away land this man was from. He hoped he never found out.

The next day was the second round. This day only had two fights in it, but the first still dragged on for what felt like millennia.

Nico almost fell asleep, but the itchiness of his royal robes kept him well awake.

The second fight included the armored knight yet again. Nico was glad he was a good fighter, at least he'd be able to marry someone who didn't talk. Maybe he wouldn't mind Jason being around.

The armored man won, progressing to the final fight the next day.

Nico hardly slept a wink that night. He wanted more than anything for Jason to come up to his window that second and whisk him away to another work, but that didn’t happen. He just laid there, with nothing but the rattling of the wind on his window and the undying worry in his mind.

The day of the final battle rolled around. Nico thought his jaw would dislocate with how hard it was clenched. He sat in his throne, watching the two fighters take their places.

He wanted so badly for Jason to show up out of nowhere and convince his father they were made to be together. However, his wishing and wanting never got him anything.

When he looked up from his desolate upset, he realized the fight was almost over. His father was gripping the arms of his throne beside him so hard his knuckles were turning white.

Nico looked toward the battle field as the two gladiators fought. The opponent, a man with many scars and cropped brown hair, battled sharply with the knight. It was clear the brunet was tired, and soon enough the battle would have a predicted win.

Nico convinced himself it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe he could run away? He could always leave the man at the altar, change his name, and abandon his father’s kingdom. The option of poisoning his soon to be husband didn’t look so bad right now.

When he looked up again, he saw the brunet on the ground, and the knight standing above him. The brunet didn’t move, and his father’s booming voice declared the knight the winner. Nico’s veins turned to ice.

The knight looked up at them triumphantly, but didn’t put his sword away. His battle wasn’t yet won.

He tugged off his helmet, giving way to a familiar face and blonde hair. Nico grinned, jumping up and shadow traveling to the ground so fast he hardly registered Jason’s warm embrace.

Jason held him close with one arm and pointed his sword at Hades with the other. “I won.” He said simply. Nico pulled him down and kissed him softly but desperately before he could get out another bitter word at his father.

"See? You knew not the lengths I would go, my dear."

This is also on AO3:

My card:

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #Ancient Greek au #fanfiction #jasico #fluff #gladiator au #no beta we die like Jason #NOT IN THIS FIC THO #🪻fanfics

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