#god reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Cultist, covered head to toe in blood: Savior? I had done as you requested of me. Might I received what I have prayed for now?

Deity Reader: You have served me well, Mortal. I no longer question your faith, but I am curious about the nature of your wishes. Is what you seek truly what your heart desires?

Yan Cultist: Yes, My Lord. I desire it more than the air I breathe.

Deity Reader: I can grant you wealth. Immortallity. Anything.

Yan Cultist: My resolve is absolute, Lord. You know what I long for most.

Deity Reader: Very well...

[The Deity takes mortal former - mindful not to snap the human's feeble neck as their larger hand strokes their head tenderly]

Deity Reader: Who's a good mortal?

Yan Cultist, melting at the touch: Heavens, I pray it's me.

[hckzee]

gachiakuta manga spoilers ahead (chap 161)

IMAGINE being a forgotten god, lost through the ancient texts of the Ground due to an uprising in the past. You barely survive thanks to the prayers the wind brings to your ancient temple, long destroyed by trash and humans alike.

Centuries of slumber have dulled your senses, only ever able to pick up on a mortal's soul when they are directly standing inside the broken shrine you call home. It was rare to even have visitors, as your humble temple resides inside a hidden cave, covered by mountain of trash that accumulated over time.

So, imagine your shock when footsteps echoed through your rotting walls, slowly making its way down the carpeted floor once adorned with the finest fur known to mankind. Your subconscious flickered, sensing the soul of a mortal. Briefly, you pondered on how they have known the location of your home, yet the prospect of feeding off a person's prayer after years of hunger vanished the thought.

The person halted in front of your shrine. There, your statue stood tall and proud, covered with dirtied silk robes and damaged jewelries. Once, during the height of your divination, you were adorned with different kinds of offerings, ranging from materialistic goods, and even human sacrifices, though the latter was far in between as you made it known to your devotees you detest such actions. At the foot of your statue were woven basket filled with rotten fruits and vegetables that once fed the priest and priestess who lived in your ground. Wilted flower petals scattered throughout the table, covered with a thick film of dust from years of vacancy.

A muted hum fell out of your lips when you felt the person gently lay down a box of cake on your feet. Life surged through your body, filling the empty veins with divinity as he offered you a prayer—help him achieve his goal. Bitterness filled the roof of your mouth from the sheer amount of anger, determination, and hypocrisy the prayer had, yet it was genuine in its intention; and that was everything a weakened god like yourself could ever ask for.

Cracks ran down your statue, destroying the peaceful silence that once lingered inside your shrine. It spread from your face to your chest and finally your legs. Despite the horrific scene, the person did not stop prayer; rather, he intensified, slipping all of their deepest darkest secret like water to a parched man. The depth of their genuine interest in you was enough to awaken you out of your forced slumber, marble falling down the floor like tears as you finally opened your eyes for the first time in centuries.

The first thing you saw was a man with long blond hair, navy blue strands peeking from underneath. His muted yellow eyes were hidden below his prominent lashes, almost looking like feathers by how long they were. A defining scar ran down the right side of his face, past his beautiful right eye and curving towards his ear.

You blinked, head tilting as you took in his rather formal attire. It was too pristine and proper for him to be someone of lower status; so perhaps he was a nobleman? His clothes looked to be made of cotton or silk—expensive fabric reserved for nobility—decorated with golden ornaments that caught reflection from your shrine's candles destined to burn for eternity. Yet, something about him seemed peculiar. The air around him warned you of a deceiving man from the heavens—a man from the rumoured Sphere you have heard from prayers of the dead.

"You have awaken me from my slumber, mortal," you announced, leaning forward to inspect him properly. "What is it you desire from this forgotten god of the land?"

The mortal merely smiled, not bothered by the fact he was talking to divinity, something that is above his own kind. His eyes were sharp with interest, as if he had planned for all of these to work. "Could you be even called a god when you have no followers?" he shot back, staring up at your height.

"I have you, do I not?"

He laughed, the sound echoing mindlessly in your ears, scratching something raw from within. "Me? You kid yourself, goddess," he cackled, mockery filling the last word as if trying to hurt you. He leaned down to grab a fistful of the cake, eating it right in front of you. "You should consider yourself lucky that I have come to save you from misery. Ha! You could even call me your god."

You did not fall for his tricks. A god such as yourself do not feel anger or resentment towards humans—that was their job, not yours. Yet, you could not deny the fact that this human intrigued you. Not only did he free you from slumber (though, you correct him that it was not misery but rather another phase of your life), but here he was, acting arrogant for a person who was praying for your divine intervention just moments prior.

"What is it you desire from this forgotten god then, human?" you asked again, not bothered by how unsightly he had become from eating the cake.

He paused, blinking up at you, before cleaning his appearance back to the dignified man he was beforehand. "Aid me in returning Rudo Surebrec back into his destined role," he stated, tone firm and unwilling to back down. "Fullfil your duty as a god that once ruled over this land."

The name rung somewhat familiar in your subconscious. Flashes of an anomaly that guards the Border entered your vision, covered by the shadow of the past, present, and future. You grimaced. Having just woken up, your memory was blurry at best and nonexistent at worse. It was odd to be suddenly pull back into your role after almost dying numerous times, but you supposed that this was just the next phase of your non-so-immortal life as a forgotten god.

"Let me make one thing clear, mortal," you bellowed, leaning down to his eye-level. "I do not kneel over humans such as yourself who deludes themselves into believing they have power of the immortals. You may have woken me up from my slumber, but make no mistake, that does not constitute to you controlling my every judgement. I am a god—you are nothing but flesh and blood, able to die on my command."

You rose back up to your height, watching the man's expression turn into irk. His brows furrowed, mouth turned into a vicious snarl as he glared at you with loathe.

You did not care, merely allowing yourself to transform into something more humane, copying the distant images of your beloved priestess. Once you were satisfied with your disguise, you faced the man, who had now masked his true feelings towards you. No matter, it wasn't hard to gauge what he was truly thinking.

"Shall we get going then, human?" you asked, tilting your head when he did not immediately respond. He just stared down at you, a hint of marvel swirling with distrust in his eyes.

Finally, he smiled, offering an arm towards you. "...That we shall, my god."

[bumpen-underbeds]

You love all your followers, watching them through the stone eyes of your statues, your effigy at every gathering, festival speech, or gathering that they have. You love how they come to you, how they ask feel guidance, how they hold you in such reverence, even if your original realm of worship has long since been unintentionally changed.

You watch them through the stone eyes of the grand statue they placed in some chapel for you, watching as worshipers leave, heading back to their lives and your men of the cloth and holy sisters clean up the pews, nodding as a single man comes to kneel at your statue's feet. You recognize this man in a way that you hardly remember; you recognize him as he kneels, the other members of the church that had been built around this statue of yours leave, letting him to pray in peace.

You recognise him, but only because he prayed to you in the way that has long since been forgotten by these new worshipers of yours.

He starts with the same prayers that the rest of the flock mutters, swiftly moving into older ones as the hall empties, shifting his gaze up to stare at your statue's face. Eyes lidded and cheeks flushed with color as his hands moved, one fisting in his shirt as the other aided to push cotton breaches down just far enough to free his cock.

Even as he begins to flick his wrist, his prayers continue, familiar ones, sweeter ones than the endless singing praise from the congregation that had departed. This is the reverence you used to have, the reverence you've missed since this new age began, and the old world with your old titles was forgotten.

This man, this worshiper of you as you were and as you are now, knows the timing, knows when he has to begin finishing up this act of forgotten devotion. The prayers he speaks turn fervent as he raises himself to his knees, hips jerking slightly as he fucks into his fist, groaning the name you used to be called as his spend drips across the pristine feet of your statue. By the time the members of the clergy return, they see him kneeling at your feet, thinking he is simply finishing his prayers with deep devotion, if only they could see how he continues to mumble words that are unfamiliar to them, cleaning up his own splattered cun from the marble, as he finishes his prayers.

You love all your followers, the new and the old, the ones that have found their way to you after the world changed and the ones that still cling to the place you used to hold.

You love them even when this chapel was raised and a statue of you was placed at the front, that was soon adjusted to fit the new age worship, the once bountiful curves and plush hips hidden behind recarved robes and decency, they still know you as bounty, as verdant fields, but unlike the old worshippers like the man who has showed his devotion in the old way.

Your new worshipers have forgotten you were love, lust and longing well before you were bounty or fertile fields.

[crashingcryptid]

Lets do something with this half coherant 2 AM Idea

The first time that Johnny felt like his prayers had been answered was his first wet dream. He'd never touched himself before, too racked with guilt to relieve the aching of his twitching cock. His late blooming had been witnessed by the rookies he was bunking with.

Endless teasing followed, and while he refused to acknowledge it, the callsign Soap came from him washing the cum out his boxers in the sink.

Even though that day was the start of his humiliation, it was also the most blessed he had ever felt. No scolding from his superiors, getting to the mess hall on time, getting hot water in his shower. He only felt a bit of guilt when he received some letters from his mother with his old childhood rosary.

He tucked it under his pillow and humped his bed queitly well into the night.

The first time he ever saw you was when he joined team 141. Maybe it was his pining after Ghost that led him to neglecting his needs. Maybe it was because he was busy. Regardless, you weren't pleased, coming to him in a dream.

"My most loyal little subject." Johnny squirms within your palm, looking around at the darkness that surrounded him. Was he dreaming? He must be dreaming. "Why are you neglecting your needs?"

"My needs?" Johnny mumbles nervously, shuddering when your thumb rubs across his crotch, gently pressing down on his cock.

"You deserve to feel good. That is how you worship me." When Johnny woke up, his cock was throbbing in his sweatpants, trembling with need and nerves.

Simon roused from his sleep to Johnny knocking on his door, getting it open only a few inches before the smaller man pushed his way inside. "I need ye... Fucking, please, Simon." Johnny mumbles hungrily as he grabs hold of Simon's sweatpants waistband. Simon's body shudders beneath his hands, his head slowly nodding in the dark.

Simon was blessed the next day with a hot shower, his favorite tea being restocked, and his recruits listening for the first time since they arrived on base.

If he heard Johnny praying to you in the morning or saw you watching him stroke himself that evening, he didn't say anything. You simply gained a new follower.

[a-998h]

Dad Poseidon Headcanons

You're one of his kids with his wife, Amphitrite and therefore you're a god

You're younger than his son Triton and Polyphemus

When you were born he saw you as this small, innocent, little thing he must protect

You're some kind of sea god, maybe a the god of sea animals or the calmer aspect of the sea

Is very protective of you against mortals and other gods

Loves taking you on rides in his chariot to show you things

Keeps you more in the sea

Brags about you to Zeus, Hades, and his other siblings

Shows you to Polyphemus, raising you to see him as a big brother

Uses his water powers to make water shapes and animals

Will burn the world for you

Isn't very vocal with his love but he does stuff to make you know you're loved

Gives you gifts

Likes to braid your hair if long enough

Only uses your full name if you're in big trouble

He uses nicknames with you all the time

Keeps you as far from mortals as he can

If you start helping Odysseus, he's disappointed in you

Lets you hang out with nymphs and some other beings vetted by him

Will smite anyone who breaks your heart if you don't do it yourself

[cheust]

I really enjoy reading self aware aus right? But recently I’ve been thinking about how funny it would be if a game/series became self aware and thought that you were their god, the thing is you are a god, just not their god.

Like imagine a god that fell into obscurity and now lives among mortals just enjoying their immortal life by playing games after work and all of a sudden it starts talking to you and the people inside out are calling you their god?

I mean, you thought you felt more powerful lately, but you just assumed that the mortals found some of your artifacts again, but nope! This digital world is worshipping you.

And you feel bad, trying to explain that while yes you are a god you’re not their god, but they won’t have it! You. Are. Their. God! They are going to worship you!

Sigh… who are you to deny such cuties? You are just a simple god after all, a simple god that loves cute creatures

[gatitties]

Hello! I hope you're having a good day/night! I saw that your requests was opened, so i wanted to put one in .

Is it alright if I request the red haired pirates and strawhats with a god reader? Where god reader uses regalias (noragami reference) and one day they see the reader blighted, since it can be mean reader will die and be reborn. Reader ends up ignoring the crew trying to fight another god because they had beef back then

─Red Hair Pirates & Strawhats x god!reader

─Summary: Being a god doesn't mean you're immortal, especially when you have unfinished business

─Warnings: brief mention of death

mmmh I looked up some info (because I have no idea about Noragami, sorry love 😔) and I don't know if the interpretation is exactly correct, but here we are, my friend :p

─ A god on a Yonko's crew? That speaks volumes about power and intimidation, as if the crew weren't already a potential threat, your contribution to the team only enhanced Shanks's prestige as captain.

─ Your crewmates are quite curious about your powers, including Shanks, since they're not used to you being able to use a weapon that appears out of thin air, much less swim in the open sea without dying like Devil Fruit users.

─ Some idiots (like your captain) think that just because you're a god you can turn water into wine, and others (like Lucky Roux) think you can conjure up a banquet with a snap of your fingers.

─ You don't know what their divine interpretation is, but you definitely can't grant wishes, you can only manifest the lost souls who once saw you as a savior, someone in whom to place their faith, and who now serve as your support and your weapons.

─ You get along well with everyone, and you're reliable enough to handle your solo missions, missions where you can spend time away from the main ship, it's common for everyone to be away for at least a week and return with news about anything Shanks wants to know.

─ And you're always punctual with your reports, until one of your trips ruined everything, it all fell apart in an instant, all because of an ancient god with whom you couldn't settle a dispute, and who, it seemed, was still eager for revenge.

─ What wasn't a coincidence was that Benn witnessed your fierce battle against your enemy, since you were taking longer than usual, Shanks tasked him with finding you, he definitely didn't expect to see you nearly die, the way you looked so abnormally different, even though you assured him you could be reborn (not that it's a good thing), Benn preferred not to witness the death of a comrade, especially not what you seemed to be transforming into something he couldn't even comprehend.

─ He saved your ass, yes, but you turned your back on him, with harsh words, the defeat left you with a deep bitterness, and you were determined not to stop until you could put an end to the misdeeds of that rogue god, and to do that, you ignored your crew, too focused on your objective.

─ And now you didn't have to pursue your revenge anymore, but rather fight against the voices of your crew, pulling you back to sanity, reminding you that you didn't have to fight alone, and that they would be there to support you in your battles if you didn't turn your back on them, after all, you're one of them, and if you have beef with a god, it means they have it too, you don't need to fight alone.

─ You never thought you could answer so many stupid questions at once, being a god doesn't mean you can make food appear out of thin air, or grow money from trees, or part the sea, or walk on water, or grant world peace.

─ Luffy doesn't quite believe it and is quite insistent that you give him a steak, as if you could summon it with a glance.

─ Robin and Jinbe are probably the most level-headed, and the most interested in how the regalias work, completely captivated by the stories behind the people who once grew fond of you and are now your loyal weapons, your armor, and your shining swords.

─ Chopper and Usopp were terrified when they first saw you in that state, so… broken, so ruined, you looked like a ferocious beast, unafraid to unleash its worst weapon from its arsenal, the reindeer wanted to rush to treat you because, although you looked like you were smoking from the ears, you seemed injured.

─ One look was all it took to make poor Chopper cower, which prompted Zoro to jump into the fray, his sarcasm sharp, thinking he could ease the tension, but you seemed too determined, too lost in your own thoughts.

─ And you were determined, from the very second your pupils dilated upon sensing the presence of that ancient god who nearly killed you years ago, you weren't going to let this opportunity pass, and nothing was going to stop you.

─ Not Nami's screams, nor Zoro's taunts, nor Luffy's punches, nor the protests of Sanji, Brook, or Franky, nor the level-headedness of Chopper, Robin, or Jinbe, the fire burned in your eyes, as did the weight of your weapons, which began to manifest as you sensed the presence of the other god drawing near.

─ Luffy didn't get the hint that you were going to fight alone, on your own, without repercussions, even if it meant having to die and be reborn, no matter how much you try to ignore your crew, they'll be on your tail like ticks, since when does this crew abandon one of their own? No way, not with Luffy as your captain.

─ Besides, it's not like they haven't faced a god before *cough* Enel *cough*, and emerged victorious without you having to ruin yourself and be reborn, you have a crew for a reason, and they're not about to let you fight alone.

[fauxparadoxx]

Thorns of Devotion, Blooming Beneath Divinity - Yandere Familiar × God Reader

You descend—no, fracture—into the realm below, your divine essence clothed in mortal flesh. A test. A punishment. Or perhaps curiosity. No temples will sing of your arrival. No altars blaze with prayer. Only he greets you. The one whose soul was stitched to yours the moment you touched the veil.

Your familiar.

He does not bow. He kneels, yes—but not in reverence. In reverie.

“You walk among shadows,” he murmurs, voice honeyed with longing and dread, “so I will be your light. And if light fails, I will burn every star for you.”

He was crafted by your own hand, centuries ago, a flicker of will and molten power sculpted into flesh. But now that you wear mortal skin, he watches you not as creator—but as beloved. He slips into your chambers without sound, leaves obsidian feathers on your pillow. Threads divine wards through your cloak. Murmurs oaths to you in languages no god should remember.

You speak of balance. He speaks of chains.

You ask him to guard the realm. He guards you instead.

At court, suitors seek your favor. They do not return. You ask if he knows why, and he only tilts his head, wolfish grin carved across his mouth. “Their prayers were... impure.”

One night, he appears cloaked in stormlight, eyes carved from starlight gone mad. “If the heavens call you back, I will silence them.” His fingers tremble as they cup your face. “You gave me life. And now I give you mine—every breath, every bone, until eternity forgets its shape.”

You consider sending him away. You are a god. You do not belong in chains of obsession.

But when his arms coil around you in the dark, when he murmurs your forgotten name like a hymn, you wonder...

Did you create him to serve you?

Or did he rise to teach you what it means to be wanted?