tags: sfw, domestic fluff, single dad, tomboy daughter, a few tears are shed + guest appearance of Killi's daughter!
note: Thank you for the lovely request and the ideas, anon! Hope you enjoy my thoughts on it. }
• After succumbing to the pressure from his father, Shamrock finally sired an heir, though he refused to marry the mother and sent her away shortly after the baby was born. And what Garling had hoped to be the future patriarch of the Figarland family, turned out to be a beautiful little girl instead.
The disappointment was imminent, but Shamrock didn’t allow his father to take away the joy he felt when he held you in his arms for the first time. You weren’t a failure to him, you were his chance to build his own family, to finally have someone to find comfort in when he returned home from long missions.
• Since your father was a busy man, he couldn’t raise you alone, so most of your time was spent in the care of nannies and nurses who had been instructed to look after you like you were their own flesh and blood. They didn’t seem to mind, you were a very cheerful baby, one who giggled a lot and enjoyed causing as much chaos as you could - a habit you would never grow out of.
• Your grandfather couldn’t help but click his tongue and shake his head when he saw Shamrock giving you a bottle of warm milk and rocking you in his arms. It took some time for him to get used to his new role, the nannies helped him how to hold and feed you.
Any low tasks such as changing diapers or cleaning up after you were passed off to the nurses, the knight had his limits and sensitivities.
• The other houses congratulated Shamrock on his child, they sent gifts and cards wishing you the best health and that you'll grow into a noble lady worthy of the Figarland name.
Only Sommers felt the need to confess that he secretly hoped you would cause your father and grandpa plenty of headaches and become a whirlwind and troublemaker just like Garling used to be.
Shamrock groaned and scrunched up the letter before throwing it into the fire and picking you up from your bassinet. You smiled at your father and he gently poked your nose-
"Such nonsense, you won’t grow up to be a brat," Shamrock told you and allowed you to hold his finger, "Old Sommers will choke on his words. Isn’t that right, princess?"
As if you understood his words, you grinned and bit into his finger.
Your father regretted his own naivety.
• Just as Sommers predicted, you grew up to be one of the cheekiest and most hyperactive girls the holy lands had ever seen.
With your short blond hair and crimson read eyes your resemblance to Garling's younger self was almost uncanny, your face shape looked a bit less sharp much like your father and your personality - well, one could only suspect it came from your mother.
When other nobles visited or met the Figarlands during formal gatherings, they often questioned if you had been adopted. It wasn’t hard to see why:
While your father and grandfather easily intimidated other Celestials and hardly ever smiled, you were always a ray of sunshine and happily ran around their legs while they stared down anyone who dared to question the purity of your blood.
"She behaves nothing like a Figarland, I should know, I have had the displeasure of meeting three generations of them!" Saint Anthony grumbled to the rest of his family as they sat down for the dinner banquet and kept throwing nasty looks at Sir Garling, his arrogant son and his annoying daughter.
"It's clear she hasn’t been taught any manners," Saintess Roswina agreed, "If Sir Shamrock doesn’t scold her properly, she will never be a lady fit for her standing."
Your father covered your ears as you sat in his lap, he would deal with those gossiping swine later, what mattered to him most was that you were having a pleasant time during dinner.
"No one insults my blood and goes unharmed," Garling noted quietly and your father nodded, "But make no hasty decisions, they can gossip until their tongues bleed, let them, we have other means to put them in their place."
You remained mostly unaware of the scheming your family did, you were just happy to meet so many other children.
• It didn’t take long before the grown ups told their daughters to exclude you from their games and to shun you for not acting like a Celestial girl should. So your only option was to play with the boys instead.
It wasn’t easy to get them to accept you, but after stealing a training sword from your father and impressing the young noblemen with your swordsmanship ( which you had mostly taught yourself, father believed it was too dangerous ), they welcomed you.
You ran around Marie Geoise with the other boys, fell into puddles, played in the mud and ruined your dresses on more than one occasion. You were an unstoppable force, not even a harsh scolding or house arrest could stop you.
Shamrock loved you nonetheless, even if you couldn’t sit still at the table or cared little for the dresses he bought you.
• It took a lot of begging for your father to agree to teach you how to fight, eventually he grew soft and gifted you your first blade. A sword perfect for your size and strength.
"Very well then, I will show you how to wield a blade, but you must promise to only use it to defend yourself when I'm not around," Shamrock announced as he took you to the training courtyard.
"I promise, father," you said proudly with your fingers crossed behind your back.
It seemed you had inherited a few Figarland traits after all.
• You were fascinated by your father’s mythical blade, it housed a beast inside of it. A demonic hellhound with three heads and teeth so sharp they could bite through steel.
Grandpa had told you time and time again that Cerberus was a weapon, not a pet, Shamrock kept on echoing the same sentiment, but as usual, you bent the rules.
When both men were busy, you stole your father's blade and summoned the hound, who promptly came out of his sword and greeted you by licking your face.
"Hey! Hey! That's enough, big boy! Sit," you commanded and the large animal obeyed his tiny mistress. "Time for a treat."
You giggled as you threw a piece of meat in the air and watched the three heads fight over who got the first bite.
"Now roll over," you ordered and moved your finger in a circle.
Cerberus rolled onto his back and panted with his three tongues out.
You climbed on his belly and began to scratch his neck fur and all the other spots he liked the most.
"I think you should come inside, it's not fair dad makes you stay in your sword or the kennel all day! We have lots of space," you decided and Cerberus happily wagged his tail.
[ … ]
When Shamrock knocked on your door to check up on his daughter, he found you cuddled up and sleeping with the hellhound. He sighed deeply, but he couldn’t bring himself to wake you two up, so he simply fetched a blanket and gently tucked you in.
What a special girl you were, so fearless and stubborn. How could he not be proud of you?
He gave you a kiss on your forehead and prepared tomorrow’s training session - what you needed weren’t dance or knitting classes, you were born with the fire of a warrior.
All Shamrock needed to do was to convince his father that you were worthy to be trained as a knight. Though a part of him feared his little girl wasn’t ready to swear her oath to Imu-sama and fight. Only time would tell.
Bonus [ please read the HC's about Killingham's daughter ]:
• On a rainy afternoon Garling had invited Saintess Maffey to discuss a mission in a far-away nation the knights were planning to overthrow. As usual, she brought her son Killingham and his daughter along, who preferred to stay in his lap or hold onto his long legs for safety.
When you heard the visitors arrive, you ran out of your room and hurried down the stairs.
"Careful young lady, don’t trip," your dad reminded you as he watched you nearly tumble down the staircase.
You finally made it to the salon where Saintess Maffey and grandpa were drinking wine together and talking, but everything you heard from them was boring adult talk, so you walked over to your dad and the other man.
"Oh, this must be our little Lady Figarland, hm?" Saint Killingham greeted you, he noticed you staring at his long neck and dragon-like head and laughed. "I don’t think we have met yet, such a shame. I did ask your father about it quite a few times."
"And I know why I denied your requests," Shamrock rolled his eyes and you chuckled, always finding it humorous when your father was clearly annoyed with other people.
"Come, darling, why don’t you say hi?" Killingham whispered and turned his head around to look behind his chair. He bent down and picked someone up - it was a girl, only a year younger than you, she looked terrified.
"Oh, oh, is that your daughter? Can I play with her? Please!" You began to jump up and down and ran circles around the knight.
"How does that sound, baby? Do you want to play with Sir Shamrock's daughter? I promise I will keep an eye on you," the kirin assured his child, who still seemed on the fence about it.
Eventually she gave a shy nod and you wasted no time grabbing her wrist and dragging her upstairs into your room so you two could play.
It was obvious that she was a lot more timid and nervous than you. She hardly spoke and flinched every time you moved, but somehow, you still managed to get her to play dolls with you. After a while she began to open up, her voice was shaky and quiet so you needed to listen carefully, which was a bit exhausting.
" … and then daddy gave me a devil fruit, it's a special one," she told you while fidgeting with the lamb plush she had brought along.
"Oh, you have a devil fruit? That's awesome! Which one? What does it do? My father has a a big dog in his sword-" You quickly stopped yourself from rambling on and apologized so she could continue.
"I can turn into a golden sheep, and I can fly!" The girl told you.
You were left feeling a bit confused.
"So … you’re a sheep?" You asked.
"Uh huh!" She nodded.
You grinned and suddenly lunged forward to jump on top of her, ignoring her squeals you began to playfully wrestle with her like you did with the boys.
"You know what happens to sheep?" You laughed. "Grandpa says all Figarlands are wolves … and wolves eat sheep!"
Instead of playing along, your new friend screamed and you instantly let go of her. The young girl got up and ran out of the room, you were left completely stunned. After a deep breath you followed her down the stairs.
"What's wrong? What did I do? Please come back!" You pleaded, loud enough for everyone downstairs to hear.
When you made it back to the salon, your new friend was already crying in Killingham's arms and you felt your heart sank upon seeing your father's grim expression.
"Come here," he commanded sharply and you obeyed with your head hanging low. "What did you do, young lady?"
"N- nothing, we were just playing," you mumbled, trying to hold back your tears.
"Playing what?" Shamrock raised his voice, father knew how to be scary.
"She … she said she was going to eat me," Killingham's daughter sobbed.
"Because you’re a sheep!" You blurted out, but when your father grabbed your wrist you instantly fell silent.
"I thought I had raised you better than this, you can not insult our guests," he scolded you.
"But didn’t grandfather say that wolves eat sheep? And we’re wolves, right, papa?" You questioned him, tears running down your face.
Shamrock sighed and rubbed his temples.
"That is not what your grandfather meant. And yes, my dear, we do eat sheep, but your little friend is a knight's apprentice and we do not eat our comrades," he explained, his grip softening so he could lift you up into his lap instead.
His words made sense so you looked over to your friend and apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you … I won’t eat you! I swear!"
"O- okay," she replied meekly but remained curled up on her father's thighs, not planning to get up and play again anytime soon.
Sheep and wolf analogies aside, you still hoped to befriend her, though you wondered how someone so easily scared could hope to become a knight.
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The idea that Killingham's daughter has a mythical zoan fruit comes from another anon, I will be writing a short fic about it soon!
Do you guys think Sommers should get a daughter too? 👉🏻👈🏻
Fanart from doodledeerest !!!! Thank you!!!! And MORE Here!
Prime! Garling Figarland x F!Reader
Summary: In Mary Geoise, power gleams like polished marble, bloodlines pass as currency, and every smile is sharpened for war. You arrive beneath a false name and a forged pedigree, a revolutionary spy stitched into silk and etiquette.
Unfortunately, you catch the eye of Saint Garling Figarland—handsome, lethal, commander of the God’s Knights, and one of the most exalted Celestial Dragons to walk the holy ground.
Beneath chandeliered halls and well-mannered threats, something else begins to take shape. It feels quieter, older, and impossible to ignore, a meeting of equals in a place determined to forbid such things.
AO3 Link
Warnings: Garling Figarland x f!reader, mature audience, 18+, Mdni, Spoilers for One Piece, foul language, non-con, mentions of non-con, dubcon, closed door degradation, yandere Garling, Figarland is his own warning, Dark Romance, politics, espionage, revolutionaries, Celestial Dragons, Explicit Sexual Content
Notes: Mary Geoise isn’t a happy place. War crimes are bad.
Chapters
Chapter 1: A Well-Mannered Threat
Your mission is simple: survive the social circuit, gather intelligence, and escape unnoticed. But then he notices you.
Saint Garling Figarland—God’s Knight, judge of blood, master of selection—watches you like a man cataloging flaws in a prized weapon. You were supposed to be beneath his interest.
Chapter 2: A Delicate Catastrophe
The debutante season begins, but something colder stirs beneath the silks and chandeliers. You play your role—sweet, forgettable, invisible—until a single misstep exposes more than it should. A forbidden name escapes your lips. A glass you shouldn’t have taken dulls your edge. And Commander Figarland watches. Thorne moves to protect you, but protection has its price, and attention from the wrong man is its own kind of mark. Whispers rise. Motives shift. And now, with the Juniper Ball looming, you're no longer just a pawn.
Chapter 3: A Court of Calculations
At the Juniper Ball, you move through the political games under Thorne’s careful guidance until Garling Figarland personally selects you for a private encounter. The night ends with you untouched, but something lingers in the air, a silent promise of what’s to come, leaving the court uneasy and curious.
Chapter 4: The Thirteenth Chair
You become the center of Mariejois gossip, your every move whispered about in salons and scribbled in ink-stained letters. Despite the attention, you quietly continue your courtship with Thorne, your connection to him a carefully crafted façade. But Garling Figarland, the revered God’s Knight, seems far from finished with your game.
Chapter 5: Like a Fox in a Snare
Summoned to the sunlit solarium above Mariejois, you meet Figarland Garling for the first time since your fateful game of chess. The encounter unfolds like a game—each word, each gesture, deliberate. His interest is unsettling, his familiarity unearned. Beneath the civility lies something sharper: a veiled interrogation, a claiming smile, and the sense that you’ve already been chosen.
Chapter 6 (Part 1) (Part 2): The Assassin’s Rule
As the sacred Hunt begins, the court expects performance—flirtation dressed as tradition. But when Garling Figarland invokes an ancient title once meant for conquest, the game turns. With no blade, no route repeated, and no intention of playing fair, he enters last... and changes everything.
One by one, suitors fall. The Red Reader runs. And behind her, the Assassin walks—unrushed, inevitable.
Chapter 7: Draped in Obedience
In the Holy City of Mariejois, where elegance masks cruelty and gossip is its own form of warfare, a forgotten estate suddenly finds itself thrust into the center of court attention. Far from the city’s glittering eyes, a hidden council debates the price of survival, reckoning with old choices and the cost of silence.
Chapter 8: Three Moves Ahead
Ivory and ebony clash in a game where lives hang in the balance.
Chapter 9: Roses with cut Thorns
Garling secures your engagement, sacrifices Maria, provokes Thorne’s challenge, and forces you into a dangerous bargain sealed with a kiss.
Chapter 10: The Price of Loyalty
A bride is forged, a knight defies, an elder calculates, and the revolution chooses to survive.
Chapter 11: Ashes in the Garden
Garling prepares for his duel with deliberate calm, surrounding himself with tokens of control and dismissing protocol as beneath him. In court, he parades you as both ornament and possession, allowing no one close. Later, in private, he presses for obedience, treating defiance as both insult and fascination.
Chapter 12: Laughter and Ruin
In the wake of fire and whispered warnings, the household sharpens its silence around you. While nobles gather for a sanctioned duel, you begin to see how Garling wields spectacle, shame, and intimacy with equal precision. Each gesture reminds you that survival in his house will demand more than obedience; it will demand a strategy of your own.
Chapter 13: Refinement Must Be Maintained
You are the centerpiece of Saint Garling Figarland's plans, and his next step is simple: a wedding meant to sanctify power itself. While he maneuvers through the politics of Mariejois, you are kept in his estate, surrounded by silence, surveillance, and gifts that feel like cages. Each day is measured, every gesture rehearsed, and every word chosen to please a man you fear. As your wedding preparations begin, he gives you an unexpected gift.
Chapter 14: The Bells of Pangaea
When the doors to the wedding chapel finally open and every gaze turns toward you, the world blurs into color and sound. You walk forward. After all, there is no choice, because everyone is watching. After all, this is the role you have been given. By the time you reach the altar, you no longer know whether the bells are ringing for a wedding or a funeral.
Chapter 15: To be Loved is to be Known
Loathing and desire blur into intimacy as a marriage becomes a binding—both in body and in fate.
Chapter 16: Invitations with Teeth
Garling, unsettled by your silence, decides on a grand gesture to draw you out. What follows is a tense, glittering excursion through Mariejois’s most opulent promenade, full of gossip, veiled insults, and unexpected wit.
Chapter 17: Jealousy
A lavish evening at the Donquixote estate draws you and Garling into the glittering heart of Mariejois society, where every smile hides calculation. Amid the polite games and golden light, new alliances form, old fears resurface, and Garling’s composure begins to fracture in ways neither of you expects.
Chapter 18: The Perfect Temperature
Beneath the sound of water and breath, you begin to learn that mercy can take many shapes, and all of them are only what Garling Figarland can offer.
Chapter 19: A Canvas for the Divine
As the days pass, you try to balance Garling’s unwavering presence with the growing tension inside the estate. Preparing for your portraits proves far more chaotic than expected, and the painter’s arrival reveals just how tightly strung the household has become.
Chapter 20: A Kind Knife
In the stillness of a cold chamber, a visitor arrives who threatens the fragile balance the Figarland House has learned to keep.
Chapter 21: Hallowed Night
You find solace where you should find caution, letting tenderness lull you into stillness even as the truth grows quietly beneath your ribs. You cling to gentle moments in a house built on cruelty, soothing yourself with warmth that will soon demand a price you are not ready to name.
Chapter 22: Etiquette for Predators
A formal luncheon in Mary Geoise turns into a quiet exercise in social cruelty, forcing you to navigate status, scrutiny, and unspoken threats while maintaining composure in a place designed to make you small.
Chapter 23: Good Intentions
A last painting is started, a meeting is completed, and a debt is paid.
Chapter 24: The Grand Prize
A husband’s affection shields you from the worst truths of Mary Geoise, until you learn why the rabbits are kept so carefully.
Chapter 25: Painted in Red
A single choice meant to save others stains you irrevocably in blood, costing your body, a future, and the last illusion that love could survive Mary Geoise.
Chapter 26: A Different Kind of Key
Some doors only open when you stop pretending they aren’t there.
Chapter 27: All Routes Converge
Garling charts a flawless passage west, keeping danger, distance, and doubt firmly in hand. Only one path remains unmarked, and it leads directly home.
Chapter 28: Home
What begins as a homecoming becomes a reckoning with choices long in motion. Some paths, once taken, cannot be turned back from.
kuma's story is really sad. not only he became enslaved twice by the celestial dragons, he also became a human guinea pig for experiments on humanoid weapons. i think him belonging to a near-extinct race of buccaneers (which also turn into slaves or killed if found) makes his life incredibly lonely. if not for the revolutionary army and bonney, his life is beyond tragic.
for someone so strong and feared by people (even going as far as to be labeled a 'tyrant'), he's one to be subjugated by the most powerful people and organization in the world of one piece. his title (then title) as a warlord does not compensate for the amount of heartless things done to him.
kuma as a person is gentle and has strong principles. i will never forget how he saved the strawhats and guarded the sunny for two years at the expense of his body and power ー all in exchange with losing himself in the process.
it's just so terribly heartbreaking. and seeing him being enslaved by the celestial dragons at the reverie devastates me.
he doesn't deserve any of this.
i am still far from egghead but i hope oda does something for him to achieve some sort of peace and freedom, even if he doesn't intend on restoring his memories/himself.
tags: dubious consent, slavery, slight yandere tendencies, farmer girl reader, age gap, power imbalance, mostly sfw
note: Much love to all my fellow Gorosei enjoyers, there will be more content about them soon. The past few anime episodes have truly been spoiling us.
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[ How it all began … ]
• You were standing in the fields on the outskirts of the holy city, it was your god-given duty to watch over the livestock of the Celestial Dragons who owned them. Many families lived solely on imported goods from the world below the Red Line, but the family you served was different.
House Shepherd was known for its many farms and crop fields on their estate, the walls of which reached so far it was nearly impossible to see both ends of it at the same time.
You hardly ever saw the family, you and the other slaves worked and lived with the animals, sleeping in the barns with the cows and eating your meager breakfast and dinner when you were out herding the sheep.
As you rested your weight on your makeshift wooden cane and enjoyed the gentle breeze of the sea, you began to doze off and dreamt of a life in freedom. You still remembered your childhood on the island you were born on, the voice of your mother and the warmth of your grandmother's hug - they were both long gone.
In your melancholy you did not notice a man approaching you, his steps softened by the fresh grass were almost silent despite his impressive size. You slowly blinked and opened your eyes to find yourself standing in a tall shadow.
"How are the sheep this morning?" A voice you had never heard before asked you.
The wind caught in your hair as you struggled to reply, your eyes wandered over to the herd, all of the animals were peacefully grazing together in the distance. There was no reason for the stranger to behead you or worse, you hadn’t made a mistake. And yet, the man's aura was unsettling enough for you to freeze.
"The herd is doing good, we have two dozens new lambs this week, all healthy and eating well," you told the man earnestly.
He hummed and placed his hand on your shoulder, it felt warm and pleasant.
"Look at me," he demanded.
When you turned around you had to crane your neck to took up into the face of a man whose name you could never forget - it was none other than Saint Ju Peter, patriarch of the Shepherd family and most importantly an Elder.
In his presence you felt like an insect, oh how easily he could have stepped on you and ended your life right then and there.
"Do you enjoy tending to the animals?" Saint Ju Peter's hand moved from your shoulder to your neck.
Perplexed by how gently the God touched you, you needed a moment to respond.
"Yes, I do," you breathed out, "It's soothing …"
"Soothing?" He wondered and you briefly feared that your answer had displeased him. The Saint noticed the frown on your face and clicked his tongue. "Continue, speak your mind freely. I command it."
You couldn’t believe that you were speaking to a Gorosei so … intimately, even if he had disguised his curiosity as an order you wouldn’t disobey, you still couldn’t shake off the fear that this was a trap. No Celestial ever had good intentions, especially not with young slave woman such as yourself.
"Yes, my Lord. It calms my heart to see these animals living so free of worry, they will never be plagued by doubt nor fear. In a way, they might be better off without a conscience," you answered, keeping your eyes on his chest to avoid angering him.
Ju Peter caressed your cheek while gazing at you, his attention had long shifted away from the grazing sheep.
"Are you suggesting that I would be better off as a ram than a God?"
You felt your heart sink.
"No, no! Of course not, forgive me, my Lord!" You were about to fall on your knees, but the Elder's strong grip on your wrist stopped you.
"How curious," he said more to himself than you before he pulled you close and forced you too look into his bright blue eyes.
"You will be coming with me, little lamb."
If it wasn’t for the hand around your throat keeping you on your toes, you would have surely passed out and landed in the tall grass. Part of you believed you were still in the midst of dozing off into a dream, but that illusion did not last long until the Saint lifted you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing and carried you through the field.
-
• From one moment to the next your life had changed forever. The Elder brought you into one of his manors belonging to his family and called for his slaves to fetch and clean you.
The house servants prepared a bath for you, you had never experienced anything quite like it, the water embraced you in a warm hug and the lavender scent of the soap lulled you into a sense of safety and comfort. That sentiment lasted until the slaves scrubbed the dirt of your bare skin with brushes so rough, you suspected they were meant for horses.
Still feeling unsure what your purpose would be within these sacred halls, you sat waiting in a spacious winter garden. Freshly bathed, your hair curled and braided with white daisies woven in, the only thing bothering you was the tightly laced corset of the dress you wore.
Instead of your master, a maid stepped into the room and brought you tea.
"I'm sorry, but-," you spoke up, only to be met with the maid's flat palm pointing at your face, so you lowered your voice to a whisper. "I need to know why I'm here. Please."
The maid filled your cup, when she put down the kettle she sighed softly and briefly checked if the doors behind her remained closed.
"What did the master call you when he brought you here?"
You leaned forward to pick up your cup of tea, just to have something to hold onto to.
"A … lamb?" You replied.
The maid gave you a sorrowful look, but said nothing more.
"Is that bad? Hey!" You tried to get up and follow her, but before you could figure out how to lift up your skirt and balance your steps in the heels you had been put in against your will, the woman was gone and you were left alone once more.
• You didn’t see Ju Peter again in the following days. As you were dragged and lead around the house by many different tutors who educated you on proper table manners and tested your ability to read and write, you only briefly got a glimpse at the other members of the Shepherd family.
Many of them were quite loud and boastful, telling each other stories, their laughter echoing in the hallways outside of the bedroom you had been assigned. None of them had spoken to you yet, and you weren’t too upset about that. Knowing the short temper of most nobles, you made sure to keep your head low and focused on your lessons - though you did not know their purpose yet.
Was Saint Ju Peter raising you to be his personal assistant? Unlikely, a God like him didn’t need to hire a simple farm worker for such an important task. Perhaps a pet then? No, you weren’t beautiful enough to be shown off like a trophy. Your only clue was that he had called you a lamb, and the first maid you had seen hadn't been too thrilled about it.
There was this constant fear at the back of your mind that your time in the world was now much shorter than before. All it had taken for you to be stolen from the life you had grown accustomed to had been one honest answer to your master, you should’ve lied.
At least then you would have been sitting in the grass with the sheep now instead of hiding amongst the wolves.
• Your first meeting with your God took place during a full moon night on one of the many balconies looking over the expansive rose garden behind the manor. In the far distance you heard the familiar noises of the cattle and sheep you used to herd, it brought you some much needed comfort before Saint Ju Peter stepped onto the balcony.
He was wearing a black suit perfectly fitted to his body, his white shirt underneath was slightly unbuttoned, just enough to get a glimpse of the scar on his chest. Ju Peter caught you staring and you had to quickly remind yourself that you were no longer meant to act like a slave - you were supposed to meet his eyes. Without shame or fear.
Impossible, your breath got caught in your throat when the Saint leaned down to cup your face.
"I believe I have made you wait long enough," he told you and sat down across from you. "I'm a busy man, but in those rare moments where I'm not bound in my duties, I wish for some pleasant company. Such as you, little lamb."
It was getting harder to control your facial expressions, every word he said left you feeling more irritated.
"Go on, I will never tire of hearing your voice," he encouraged you.
"May I ask why me, my Lord?"
Ju Peter waited for the servants who arrived to finish arranging your dinner on the table. The food smelled just as delicious as everything else you had been treated to in the past weeks. One servant stayed behind, after a curt bow he cut off a piece of the Elder's steak and ate it.
"When I'm tired and seeking rest, I don’t require to speak with someone who bores me with politics or gossip. No, it must be someone who's different, more simple minded and earnest."
The backhanded compliment didn’t fly over your head, but when you caught something resembling a smile on his lips you were almost willing to forgive him for essentially calling you no more than an empty headed farmer.
"Don’t misunderstand my words, mortal. I have been watching you every day when I had a moment to myself, I know of your strengths and weaknesses. I am aware you’re intelligent, you carry much knowledge from your past life and a heavy burden," he continued and waved at the servant to leave.
"So that’s what those den-den's on the walls were for," you commented and Ju Peter nodded.
"If you wish to return to the stables and continue your work with the animals, I offer you this one last chance to deny me," the Saint spoke slowly, watching you intently to ensure you were hanging onto his lips.
You looked out towards the barns and fields, you did miss the scent of fresh hay and sleeping alongside your found family, but you couldn’t deny that these last few days of luxury had tempted you to reconsider your preferences.
"I will stay," you decided and looked down at your dinner served with wine.
"Thank you," Ju Peter surprised you with how gentle he sounded despite the constantly furrowed brows and the deep lines on his forehead. "Please, enjoy your meal, all important matters are settled now."
• Ju Peter continued to be a busy man, as the head of agriculture for the entire world, there was always a problem to settle and paperwork to fill out. You often ended up warming his lap in those quiet hours or bringing him tea which he insisted on having been brewed by you.
When he wasn’t sitting at his desk, he was lying on his large leather sofa with you resting on his massive chest. He would read books to you, both old and new, while the rain drummed against the windows. Some of his stories sounded so ancient, that you wondered if you he was telling the truth when he recounted his memories from back then.
• You had expected a Gorosei to have an entire harem of women, but aside from you there seemed to be no one. And in the first few days, Ju Peter did not touch you with the purpose of intimacy beyond gentle scratches and pats. He rested his hands on your lower back, but never reached further down.
• It took time before he would begin to close his books early and spend the rest of his meager breaks exploring your body by letting his hands roam up and down your sides. You easily bent to his will, although you were still frightened by his presence, you had grown quite comfortable with his touches.
Ju Peter preferred to kiss you slow, he never wished to hurry when he claimed your lips as held you in his arms so neither of you needed to bent down or reach up.
"You’re everything a God could wish for," he confessed to you one night after he commanded you to share his bed with him.
• Eventually you'd be allowed to meet the other Elders, each of them brought their own "companion", but you were the only one with a slave mark upon your back. You hid against your master’s chest and avoided their eyes, fortunately they were far too busy discussing politics to notice how badly you were shaking.
Ju Peter soothed you, giving you short forehead kisses when he was waiting for his turn to speak.
• In early spring Saint Peter walked with you to the stables where you once used to work and sleep. There, he asked you to show him around as you did, he spoke freely with you about raising animals, growing crops, managing supplies …
"It's hard to believe you never worked at a barn yourself, my Lord," you admitted as he knelt down in the hay to lift a newborn lamb into his arms without caring about the dirt on his suit.
"Before I became an Elder, I was a knight who protected my kingdom during the war," he told you, you handed him a bottle of milk and slightly corrected his hand position before he fed the lamb.
The animal looked ridiculously small compared to him, but despite his size he was gentle enough not to alarm the young sheep.
"A knight?" You wondered.
"Indeed, there are days when I miss the weight of my sword resting upon my hip, but before I was fighting, I helped my father in the royal stables. I enjoyed it more than the brutality and bloodshed," he continued while feeding the lamb. "Now the entire world is my land to reap and sow."
• Ju Peter never told you who the "Great One" was, this mysterious figure who was worshipped by the knights and Elders alike. He assured you it was for your own safety that you remained sitting on your knees outside the temple or he locked you inside a room of Pangea castle with a book while he spent time in prayer.
• You asked him about the scar on his chest once, you traced over the burned skin with your fingers and he let out a pleasant hum.
"It's a an old wound from a battle I fought 800 years ago."
Those words hit you like a slap to the face.
"So … you’re immortal?"
Ju Peter sat up straight and brushed your hair out of your face so he could take a better look at the face he had grown attached to.
"Yes, little lamb."
With that knowledge came the harrowing thought that one day you'd grow old and perish while the Saint would remain the way he was. And that brought you the realization that you had begun to care for your Lord, among all the cruel Celestial monsters who lived in this golden cage above the clouds, Ju Peter was the only one who had shown you kindness.
But how long would it take before the Saint would grow tired of you? After all, if you were truly no more than a lamb to your God, your fate was already sealed.
Bonus ( cw: pregnancy )
• Ju Peter was not only massively tall, but also carried an impressive size between his legs that left you quivering and shaking on the bed when he decided to take you for the first time. You bled on his cock and he promised you he'd be more gentle next time, but the God couldn’t help himself, your pussy smelled far too delicious for him to hold back.
• He loved it when you rode him, whenever the other Elders where gone, you followed him into the sacred room of authority and the two of you fucked on every surface. You felt sorry for the slaves who cleaned up after the mess you made.
• His jealousy knew no bounds. On the rare occasion he didn’t leave you at the manor and brought you outside, he had slaves killed for the minuscule crime of looking your way or speaking to you. If their blood splattered onto your dress or face, he always apologized for the mess, but not once did he acknowledge how cruel he was.
It was no different to him than stepping on ants.
• To separate the claw of the dragon burned into the skin on your back from all the mark all the other slaves carried, Ju Peter ordered an artist to carve vines and roses into your flesh - the symbols of House Shepherd aside from the white ram. You cried during the procedure, your only saving grace was that your master remained at your side.
"I take no pleasure in watching you suffer, but know that this is a gift, not a punishment. A sign that you will belong to me for the rest of your life."
No amount of gentle praise would have convinced you that this was any different than adding more detail to your cattle mark.
• The men in the Shepherd family all sired at least five heirs and at most ten or twelve, especially if they took more than one wife. The family gathering were always loud and attended by many people whose names you couldn’t remember, no matter how often Peter repeated them to you.
He saw you holding your belly as you sat in his lap and ate dinner with him.
"What’s wrong, lamb?"
"I feel strange, almost like I'm sick," you confessed.
Ju Peter set his dinner aside and immediately brought you to Saint Saturn's privat lab. After passing the many cages where he kept his test subjects for his inhumane experiments, you saw the man himself, observing a sick man strapped to a chair.
"Why must you bother me at such an unholy hour? I'm busy," Saint Saturn grumbled.
"This matter is far more important than your experiments," he snapped and placed you down on a table. "It's about this woman, I suspect she might be pregnant … from me."
"Impossible," Saturn sneered and walked towards you to take a closer look, you had to fight the urge to run away when he pressed the cold metal of a stethoscope against your chest.
"None of us are capable of breeding new blood, are you certain your little whore wasn’t taken and used by another slave?"
"I would never!" You cut the Elder off, earning a sharp glare from him.
"Yes, I am. Her body has only known one man and that is me," Peter insisted.
" … fine then, I will examine her."
• Just as Saint Peter had expected, you were indeed pregnant. None of the Gorosei had been able to have a child in over a hundred years, the life growing inside your womb could be considered a scientific miracle.
And now that you'd become the mother of a direct offspring to one of the most powerful men in the world, it only made sense for him to consider gifting you his last name and a ring upon your finger.
————————————————————————
I wish we actually got to see the other Gorosei aside from Saturn actively working in their field. Ju Peter having a soft spot for animals just feels oddly cute to me-
tags: established relationship, consensual, teasing, breastfeeding, breeding, edging, slavery, Garling is his own warning - smut with romance.
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summary: Ever since that fateful day on God Valley neither Garling nor his wife can forget what happened, but the knight is determined to prove to her that she belongs nowhere but at his side.
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[ note: For the purpose of the story Mama has been given the irish name "Róisín", pronounced as Rosheen. Thanks to @nomunun ♡ ]
-> Read On AO3
Gods were not exempt from needing to take a break every once in a while. Even the most fearsome warriors who had traded their souls for their strength enjoyed an afternoon tea with their comrades. Sitting under the shades of the meticulously arranged fruit trees were the Knights of God, sipping on their wine and discussing their next missions alongside the occasional tidbit of gossip.
Only a few feet away from the knights sat their wives, all clad in shiny new summer dresses which accentuated their chests and perfectly squeezed their waists. Among them was a woman who was considered by many to be the most beautiful lady of them all, wether she was envied or loved, no one denied her charm.
Said woman was none other than the wife of Saint Figarland Garling and mother of his two twin sons.
Her name was Róisín, meaning "little rose", which was both fitting for her luscious crimson curls falling over her shoulders and down to her bosom and a reminder that she wasn’t born in the realm of Gods. No one here carried a name like her's, she was the exception, the star shining just a little brighter than the rest.
And that’s why Garling could never take his eyes of his little rose, not even when the Supreme Commander was holding an alcohol-induced speech at his table, wildly gesturing as he spouted some nonsense the blond knight didn’t care for. With the occasional polite nod he pretended to listen while watching Róisín trying to keep the twins from crawling out of her lap.
"They’re growing up so fast, but it's no wonder with how often you feed them," one of the other noble ladies commented with a polite chuckle, it irked Garling to hear the low hum of thinly veiled contempt in her voice when she spoke with his wife. Despite carrying the name of House Figarland, Róisín was still considered an outsider by many.
But his little rose was nothing if not resilient, she willfully ignored the lady's tone and held her babies close to her chest instead.
"Indeed, they have quite the big appetite, much like their father," she retorted, wearing a smile so bright it threatened to crack Garling's stoic facade and for a brief second their eyes met from across the tables.
"Isn’t that right, Garling?" The Supreme Commander guffawed with his breath reeking of booze, before Garling could react the man roughly patted his back and it took all the resilience inside him not to snap and cut off his head.
"I'm in no mood to joke, as long as we haven’t found the seedlings of the slave rebellion hiding among us and plucked them out before they can fester and grow, we must remain on high alert," he explained with his arms crossed, causing the entire round of knights to fall quiet.
That was something the two of them had in common, Garling knew how to establish dominance even when he wasn’t of the highest rank, and Róisín wore her smile like a weapon and shield at the same time, they knew their way with words.
"Ah, you’re no fun, always thinking of your duties! I pity your wife, one might think you’re married to your job instead of her," another knight chimed in, but no one except the Supreme dared to offer him more than a dry chuckle before they concealed their awkwardness with another drink.
Garling crossed his legs and removed himself from the conversation once more. When he glanced over to his wife to calm his nerves he was met with an unspeakable sight, one so majestic and precious that he couldn’t stop his right leg from twitching.
Róisín had pulled the fabric of her dress underneath her breasts, exposing their softness for all to see. It was uncommon for Celestial women to nurse in public, but the slightly aghast mouths and raised eyebrows hardly bothered the redhead. She guided her boys' lips to her rosy nipples and waited for them to latch on as the other ladies watched.
The knight's mouth watered, he had to swallow more often than he liked, licking over his lips like a wolf eyeing up their prey from afar. Róisín was no prey to him, no she couldn’t be, she was his mate and if anyone could ever hope to call themself his equal, it was her and her alone. Yet the light blush on her face when she fed the twins was enough to awaken his most primal desires.
Shanks was slightly heavier than his older brother Shamrock, all that separated them were a few minutes of agony Rósín had endured to bring them into this world before Garling had even known of his fortune. The younger boy tried to shove the other away as he enjoyed his fill, it was simply in the nature of twins to compete all throughout their life.
Garling was so deeply captivated by the sight of her nipples, red and wound from being suckled on by a pair of teething babies, that he no longer paid any mind to the ramblings of the Supreme or the laughter of his fellow knights. He found himself in quiet solitude under the blossoming orange trees with only his wife nursing by his side, content and happy, unbothered by all those who wished her harm.
Lost in that daydream he knocked his wine glass over with his elbow and spilled the drink all over his coat, earning himself a round of heinous laughter. He saw Róisín briefly looking up from her babies, the gentle grin on her lips told him that she knew he had been watching her.
"Still dwelling on your duties? Or is there something else distracting you?" Saint Sommers teased him, much to the amusement of all knights.
When the men turned their heads towards his nursing wife, Garling stood up and blocked their view. He turned on his heel and gave a polite cough.
"If you'd excuse me, I have more important matters to tend to than sitting idly and watching the time pass by," he said and nodded at the Supreme, knowing that his refusal to bow would quietly anger the old man.
"Very well then, I expect you to answer should we summon you tonight," the Commander sharply reminded him, tapping his finger against the edge of the table.
"Have I ever ignored your command?" Garling answered haughtily, allowing many unpleasant memories to bubble up inside the Supreme's mind.
Now that his superior could dwell on his resentment, Garling's job here was done and he could finally turn away from the men and shift his attention to his aphrodite still sitting among the flock of chattering birds. He felt the hungry gazes lingering over his shoulder, eyeing his wife up an down as if these beasts could ever do so much as touch her. His steps were slow and mediated, no one could know how strongly he desired his wife right in that moment.
"Darling," he spoke to her, reaching out to place her chin between his fingers, gently guiding her head up. "Shall we return home?"
"Aw, so soon already? What a shame!" One of the noble ladies chuckled, a single glare from Garling was enough to silence her.
Róisín gently pressed her thumb against Shanks' cheek, he babbled with her tit still in his mouth and refused to let go. She sighed softly.
"I fear your youngest heir might take issue with our plans," she told him and smiled up at her husband.
"Then I must be a strict father and remind him of our hierarchy," he replied in a playfully commanding tone and helped her stand up.
"Dahlia!" He called and a female servant with a crescent moon hanging from her collar appeared, she offered to hold little Shanks and after a moment of hesitation Róisín entrusted the slave with her child. "There, let Shamrock drink as we walk."
Shanks grew fussy in the slave's hold, squirming and whining to beg his mother to take him back, but Róisín had her hands full with one hungry brat. Garling urged the servant to walk faster so he could demand his wife's attention without the constant noise of a displeased child bothering him.
"Good afternoon, ladies," Róisín wished her fellow nobles and bowed, a gesture that appeared much less formal with the way her chest bounced forward.
When she offered her free hand for Garling to take, they could hear the whispers following them as soon as they turned their backs on the men and women.
They exchanged a knowing look and walked towards the gate where the knight's white steed waited for them. Saddled and kept at bay by the slaves with a few dozen treats, the unicorn stallion with the ivory coat and long mane greeted the family with a huff.
Garling patted the horse’s neck, but he couldn’t help but steal another glance at his wife feeding his older son. He ruffled through the small tuft of red hair on the top of his tiny head and Shamrock released his mother's nipple to stare at his father with wide eyes and an open mouth.
"Da-da!" Shamrock mumbled and tried to grab the tip of his father's hair.
"Oh, you little-," Garling squeezed his son's cheeks and the child giggled.
"Tell me, why are we leaving early?" His ever so observant wife asked as she fixed her dress and pulled it over her breasts, much to her husband's dismay.
"My sons need their afternoon nap, what else?" Garling scoffed and gestured for their slave to come closer so she could take Shamrock too, causing Shanks to finally quieten down now that he could cling onto his brother.
Róisín cocked an eyebrow at that, she glanced to the side to make sure none of the other nobles were watching from a distance, then she leaned closer so her lips brushed over Garling's ear.
"You’re a good strategist, but an awful liar, my dear. I saw the way you were gazing at me with your lips wet and your eyes filled with lust," she purred so low that Garling had to bite his tongue to stop himself from touching her, all he allowed himself was to hold her waist.
Róisín was an incredibly strong woman, yet whenever he held her in his hands he was reminded of how small she truly was compared to him. She always had to crane her neck in public, but once they were home it all changed, something the royal court was better off not knowing.
"You’re an animal, Garling," Róisín teased him, dragging her finger across the bit of bare skin he showed on his chest.
"You wound me, should I be blamed for falling for my wife's seduction?" He couldn’t hold back anymore, after giving her tiny waist a squeeze, he cupped her breasts through the dress and trapped her lips in a hungry kiss.
Róisín did not submit, rather she allowed him to push his tongue inside her for a little foretaste of what was to come once they returned home. He didn’t wish to threaten her good spirit, so he pulled away and let her breathe.
"Seduction? I was feeding our babies," she tutted, moving his hands off her chest.
"There’s nothing more beautiful than a happy mother," Garling argued with a grin.
Róisín shook her head and was the first to climb into the saddle, denying Garling's hand as she sat perfectly fine without his help.
"I wonder, what would you be willing to do to make love to me all night?" She asked him and grabbed the reins.
"Anything," came the immediate reply from Garling, spoken only in a hushed whisper.
"Then good luck, darling."
Róisín gave the unicorn a swift kick to his sides and the stallion fell into a brutal gallop, trampling the lawn underneath his hooves as the two of them rode off into the distance - leaving Garling behind, speechless and frozen.
"Shall I … call for a carriage, my Lord?" The servant holding the twins asked carefully.
Garling groaned and rubbed his temples.
"Hey, Garling, I think your wife's pissed at you!" Sommers' annoying voice came from behind the fence, adding insult to injury.
[ … ]
Upon his arrival at the Figarland mansion Garling stormed out of the carriage and his servant hurried after him with the twins in hand.
Another pair of slaves opened the doors for him while a butler took off his coat and offered him a glass a wine just how he preferred it. Only this time he had no appetite and flung the glass on the marble floor where it shattered.
"Where is my wife?" He demanded, scaring all his slaves badly enough for them to remain perfectly still with their lips tightly shut.
One man dared to step in front of their angered master and spoke up: "Lady Figarland has retreated to her private chambers after she returned."
The slaves let go of the breath they had been holding, yet none of them bent down to pick up the glass until their Lord was marching away towards the left wing where all of Róisín's personal belongings were kept.
Under the watchful and ever judging gaze of his ancestors looking down on him from their unnervingly realistic oil paintings, Garling rushed through the hallways which had been his home ever since he could remember.
After Róisín moved into the manor to live with him it felt like the house had become more lively again, more than just an empty husk meant to portray the relics of the past. The two boys she had brought with her filled the rooms with their laughter and cries while their mother added her own personal touches to the decor.
Large flower pots lined the corridors now and replaced many of the ancient vases Garling had inherited from past patriarchs. Even the air inside the house had changed, since Róisín had insisted that she wanted to cook food from her home town there was a lingering scent of exotic spices.
"I won’t allow my wife to work like a slave! You’re a Saintess now, dear, does that mean nothing to you?" Garling had argued, but unfortunately for him he had plucked the most stubborn flower out of the dirt from the lower realm.
"I couldn’t care less about my title! I miss my home, Garling, let me cherish my memories how I want, these recipes are all that remains of God V-"
Suddenly Garling heard a door fall shut at the end of the hallway. He wasted no time heading over to it and soon he stood in front of the door leading to his wife's private bedroom, she rarely spent time in here, most nights they slept together in each other’s arms.
"It's impolite for a wife to make her husband look all over the house for her," he hummed, knowing she could hear him through the door, "Did I anger you?"
The quiet ruffling of pillows was heard, Garling was usually not one to hesitate when he desired something, but he knew the consequences of breaking his wife's trust, so he remained outside. His right hand gripped the door handle without pushing it down.
"Our boys are downstairs with Dahlia, so there’s nothing for you to be upset over," he added in a self-righteous tone, though his confident smile disappeared when he was met with complete silence.
"Come in," her voice finally rang out, muffled and quiet, freeing Garling from his uncomfortable position.
He fixed his collar out of habit before entering the bedroom.
The first thing he noticed were the closed curtains blocking out the sun, the only source of light were the candles placed on every surface which had all been lit to cover the antique furniture in a warm glow. It was like setting foot into a trap, the scent of floral perfume and light sweat coerced Garling to take another step forward. To his confusion there was no trace of his wife, only a few pillows tossed on the floor and her summer dress lying on a pile of clothes.
"Are you taking me for a fool, dear?" He asked into the silence, receiving only the faint echo of his voice as an answer.
Garling pulled off his leather gloves and set foot in front of the standing mirror with the beautiful golden frame around it. That's when he saw her in the reflection, observing him from the corner of the room. Their eyes met and Róisín slowly approached him with the calm fierceness of a tigress.
"You said you'd do anything to make me yours tonight," she cooed in a way that made Garling's cold, dead heart skip a beat. "So let me put that to the test."
His wife's body was covered in a long bath robe with wolf fur lining the hood, it was easy to tell by the size of it that it belonged to Garling. It was enough to make him suspicious, Róisín had never bothered with robes after taking a shower.
"So my fox wants to play with me?" He growled back at her as she stood behind him and placed her hands on his thighs, feeling up his muscles underneath his pants. Her nails just barely missed his crotch where his erection was already hardening at the sight of her mischievous little face.
"Yes, but you may not enjoy the game," Róisín chuckled and pulled away from him just when Garling was about to grab her wrists and guide them to the bulge in his pants.
His red eyes followed her every move, the way she swung her hips was both ethereal and so casual that he knew she had never needed to practice it. Garling followed her towards the bed, hands clasped behind his back to stop himself from pinning her to the bed and taking what he wanted. In their time together the brutal knight had learned what the word 'restraint' meant.
"Oh please, I love all your ideas, they’re very refreshing," he noted, his fingers restlessly fidgeting.
Róisín shushed him by tapping her lips and with bated breath her husband watched as she opened the knot of her robe and let it slowly slide over her shoulders. The fur uncovered her sun-kissed skin, the freckles on her arms and right above her chest, when the gown fell deep enough to reveal her breasts he saw that she was wearing a pine green lingerie piece underneath.
The color of the lace made her emerald eyes shine even brighter than usual, she reminded Garling of a muse the great poets and painters of ancient times would deeply obsess over in their works.
With one last toss of her arm the gown fell to the ground and his wife stood before him in nothing but dark lace hugging her curves in an obscenely tight fashion. Her tits were pushed up and Garling bit his lip at the thought freeing them and holding their full weight in his palms. When his gaze wandered between her legs he saw that her most precious parts were covered with roses in the same shade as her small tuft of pubic hair.
"What's wrong, darling? It's unbecoming of you to lose your voice," she said with a wink, oh, she knew what she was doing.
Garling scoffed and walked around her in a tight circle, eyeing her up and down much like he had done back at the gardens. Only this time he had no reason to control his expression as it shifted from admiration to pure, unadulterated hunger.
"Give me one good reason not to lift you up and spear you on my cock," he whispered impatiently.
Róisín merely laughed at him, there was no hint of fear in her eyes when she stood on her toes and brought their faces so closely together that they were stealing each other’s breath.
"If you break the rules I will deny you until new moon," she spoke gently yet firmly, "Stand and watch, like a good soldier."
Róisín teased his chest with her nails, drawing out a quiet gasp from her usually so uptight husband. For better or worse, his red-haired vixen had him wrapped around his finger. What did all his power and strength amount to when the two of them were standing in her domain? As much as he was a God, he was also a man, a willing slave to the whims of his wife.
So Garling didn’t dare to move and kept his hands at his side while forcefully keeping his breath calm and steady despite every inch of his flesh craving to be on top and inside of the woman who turned around and presented the curve of her ass to him.
His cock twitched when Róisín climbed on the bed and spread her legs with her butt raised high and her chest hanging just above the mattress. The lace cut in between her wet pussy lips, truly a sight reserved for sanctified eyes. She noticed him staring and reached between her legs to play with her cunt. Her juices began to trickle down her thighs, the scent wafted through the warm air and made it impossible for Garling to breathe without inhaling her essence.
"Why must you torment me? Have I denied you any pleasure or wish?" He asked quietly, his voice a bit raspy.
Róisín let out an obscenely loud moan as she pushed two of her fingers into her heat. Garling bit his tongue hard enough to taste his own coppery blood, his pants felt suffocatingly tight all of a sudden and the only thought which occurred to his mind was to breed her. She must have been ovulating, he could tell by her scent, her entire body screamed that she was ready to take him.
And yet, he wasn’t allowed to touch or even move near her, bound by his oath to never take her against her will, Garling suffered near the edge of the bed and prayed for it to be over soon.
"If only I had a man who could mount me like a bull and pound me hard enough that we both see the stars," Róisín begged as she fingered herself, she saw her husband’s deep frown and grinned at him. "Be good for me and wait."
Garling slowly nodded before he realized what he had done - oh by all seven circles of the Abyss, what had this commoner lady from the underworld turned him into?
Róisín added a third finger and spread her lips so her husband could get a better view of how well stretched out and prepared she was to take his entire length without protest. She moved her hips back against her fingers, impaling herself on them just a little deeper, Garling knew she was avoiding her clit on purpose - touching it now would make her lose all her composure.
"Darling?" She breathed out, her legs shaking, slick dripping from her fingertips like honey.
"Yes, dear?" Garling answered, one hand palming his crotch.
"Love me like you did on our first night together," she pleaded, her voice breaking, "I miss those nights so much, I miss my knight in shining armor who promised me the world … I even miss God Va-"
Garling grabbed her thighs and flipped her entire body around effortlessly, the mattress creaked and bent under the weight of his tall body. He climbed between her legs and trapped her beneath him, their foreheads pressed together and his crotch right above her wet pussy.
"Hush now, dear. Don’t say another word, we swore to never speak of that place again," Garling growled at his wife, she spread her legs as wide she could at the sound of his husky voice. "We’re in heaven now, the true place of the Gods. You belong here, our sons belong here … and one day this land will belong to us."
Róisín had tears in her eyes, Garling was quick to kiss them away, then his lips wandered from her reddened cheeks to her mouth and at last her neck. He buried his face in the crook of it, kissing her soft skin hard enough to bruise. She sang for him in the sweetest tones, still only a foretaste of the noises she'd make once he was inside of her.
"Please," she whined, wrapping her arms around his wide neck, "Make me forget about what happened. I only wish to think of you and our children."
Garling obeyed her like any good husband would. He didn’t hesitate to tear the lace of her lingerie and unveil her leaking pussy so he could free his own cock and let the hardness of it rub across her labia.
"Close your eyes, dearest, soon you will remember nothing but my name," he promised her.
Garling didn’t bother with foreplay, he held the base of his shaft tight as he pushed his tip inside of her heat and judging by all the mewls escaping Róisín's lips she was just as eager to be filled by him. His cock was massive, even compared to other knights who were much taller than him. It was the second blade he wielded and his wife was the only women to sheathe him without pain.
"Garling!" She moaned, her legs twitching as her pussy adjusted to his size and her muscles contracted around his dick, squeezing it hard as if her body couldn’t wait to milk him dry.
When he began to move, one slow thrust was followed by the knight slamming his hips forward, their skin slapped together in perfect harmony and soon they were lost in a sea of pleasure and warmth.
Garling's hands were shaking when he freed her breasts to fondle them, they were softer than on that fateful night they met, the twins had made good use of them. It brought a smile to his face, knowing he had changed her body so effortlessly filled him with pride. He pinched her already wounded nipples and Róisín arched her back in ecstasy, he rewarded her enthusiasm by fucking her just a little harder.
"Perfect, so utterly perfect, made for my cock," he muttered, sweat dripping from his forehead and strands of blond hair falling down, "I will make you a mother again, give you another pair of twins, I can’t get enough of your pregnant body. You looked like a Goddess-"
He tore apart her lingerie even further, underneath the lace she hid her belly, it was soft from her pregnancy and there was just enough fat remaining for her husband to squeeze and admire. He saw the faint blush on Róisín's cheens and bent down to kiss her stomach.
"Pardon me, you will always look like a Goddess," he praised as he worshipped every inch of her with his tongue, occasionally his sharp fangs dragged across her skin and made her flinch.
"Good girl, is my wife ready to carry more babies for me? Do you want to be full of my seed and pray for it to take? This time, I will be there when you’re fat and round."
His words hit her like slaps across the face, she screamed his name over and over again and Garling was spurred on by her voice to pound her tiny body into the mattress.
Right before he came he felt his balls ache and squeezed his eyes shut … in that brief moment of darkness her saw her.
The young midwife from a tiny island in the middle of nowhere, a most unremarkable place, if it hadn’t been for one particular bloodline hiding away among the common folk. It had been Garling who had called for the hunt to take place, no, it was fate. Fate had lead him to God Valley, fate had brought him victory in the end and it was the gentle kiss of fate that rewarded him with a wife and two heirs.
When he opened his eyes all it took was one more brutal thrust and Garling came deep inside of her. She clung to him for dear life and he let her scratch up the back of his uniform. None of it mattered now but for them to become one again, to leave all the tragedy in the past and replace sorrow with the desire to live together.
"Garling … Garling …," Róisín cried out, rubbing her pussy against his cock as he slowly pulled out and needed to catch his breath, he noticed how eager she still was and buried himself right back inside her. Her cunt felt so warm and inviting, he stuffed her with load after load of his come.
Garling didn’t stop filling her up until his balls were starting to hurt from being drained, even if he was a God he was bound by his flesh, so he grabbed her waist with all the strength he could muster and the two of them fell on their sides.
Róisín's chest heaved as she rode off her high, even in her exhaustion she crawled closer to him, rested her head against his chest and refused to let go of her husband's dick. Garling wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, he could barely move without his muscles aching.
"Did your husband do a good job?" Garling was the first to break the silence, brushing her loose red curls out of her face.
" … Yes, yes he did," she chuckled weakly.
"Then tell me, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Garling wondered.
Róisín grinded against his crotch and lifted her leg over his thigh.
"I hope you weren’t lying about making me another pair of twins," she admitted with a laugh.
Garling couldn’t help but smile too.
"Maybe we should go for another round, to make sure you really are pregnant," he suggested with a raised brow.
"Just like I said, an animal," she teased and rolled over on her stomach to present herself again in torn up lace and with her pussy squeezing around nothing, eager to be filled once more.
Garling fixed his hair and got right back to mounting his wife, fulfilling her every wish was his greatest pleasure.
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Thanks for reading! If this post receives 50 faves I will write another part 🤍
tags: power imbalance, age gap, slavery, celestial dragon crimes, spanking, zoan form, mostly consensual, slight yandere tendencies- who knew that your wish to face a demon would lead you into the arms of the world elite?
[ note: This is a commission for the lovely @toastvogel ! ✨ Thanks again for trusting me with your man. Hope you enjoy! ]
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[ How it all began … ]
• Fate had never been kind to you. It all began with a childhood lived in poverty on an island so far away from any other, that no ships ever docked on the harbor of your village except for the fishing boats. You spent your early years helping your family wherever you could to earn a living, but in those few breaks you found between working in the fields and begging for gold, you had developed a fascination for the strange and occult.
You spent what little money you could keep to yourself on all the old, torn-up books you would find. Some of them were hand written in ink so many years ago that they were barely decipherable, others had beautiful, but terrifying water-color paintings of ghosts and demons alike.
Reading through them kept you up late into the night. Your thoughts wandered, you found yourself dreaming of coming face to face with one of these harrowing creatures. Yōkai, that's what the heavy, leather-bound encyclopedia called them.
When you sat outside in the fields with the book in your lap, you remembered looking up at the sky and wondering if you'd ever get the chance to go on an adventure. To delve into the world of cursed spirits yourself, to see what no one has seen before you.
Deep down you knew you would never truly be happy unless you left this dreadful place. Without a ship or money however, you were stuck here. Forever.
• One night the church bells rang and tore you and your family from your slumber. You immediately ran outside to see what the reason for the alarm was, only to be met with the sight of flames spreading across the roofs of all houses and farms around you. An ocean of fire, continuously spreading and chasing the villagers out towards the beach.
Terrified and confused, you ran back inside to warn your family. In the chaos you felt desperate for something to hold onto, you hurried to fetch a few of your books and stuffed them in your bag so they'd be spared from the flames.
Upon arriving at the beach, you noticed that all fishing boats were gone … replaced by large marine vessels. A white flag with a blue cross waved on their poles, you didn’t recognize it, but you instantly knew the symbol meant no good.
Soldiers descended from the ships, they barked orders out and you followed along with the other men and women who were standing barefoot in the wet sand. A few of them had begun to pray, others held their children in fear and you … you clung to your books, to the hopes and dreams you still had.
"All men to the left and women to the right!" A captain yelled, when the villagers refused to split apart their families, the marine soldiers forced them to with their spears and rifles.
You tried to wave goodbye to your father, but he was already being dragged away by the time you finally saw him in the crowd. Scared, you tried to stick close to your mother. It didn’t take long before the panic that broke out among the people caused you to lose sight of her and all your sisters.
By the time the soldiers lead you and the other women onto their ship, you were all on your own, with nothing but your books.
You only looked over your shoulder once to see your home swallowed by flames, then you were brought under deck and trapped in complete darkness with hundreds of voices - crying, screaming, praying.
Was this how the adventure you had always dreamed of would begin?
• After what felt like an eternity of crouching in the shadows, rocked to sleep each night by the storms raging outside at sea, you saw the sun again. The marines had brought you to an archipelago of islands, the one you had docked at was directly beneath a tall mountain range - it must have been the Red Line you had heard about in one of the legends in your books.
You and the other women had to step onto a strange looking boat which turned out to be a lift slowly taking you up the mountain. You tried to avoid looking down, but just by how long it took to get up there, you knew you'd soon be above the clouds.
The air up here was thin, but even stranger were the people who lived on top of the mountain. They all wore white bodysuits and eccentric hairstyles, rode on the back of horses or … people. You looked over to your left and saw dozens of men and women dressed in filthy rags, sweating in the unforgiving sun as they worked on constructing a temple.
So this is why they had brought you here. As a slave.
You felt your stomach twist and churn as if you had just realized you were about to be eaten. There was no turning back, the lift had already went down again and you were standing between the deadly cliff and your doomed fate as a slave.
You were waiting in line for your turn to be judged by the knights who stopped in front of each woman and pointed left or right. Your fingers traced the leather of the books, you had never been faithful, but in dire times like these you caught yourself praying for fate to be kind. Just this once.
"Left, right, right …," the blond man mumbled to himself and the guards accompanying him dragged the women away no matter how much they protested.
Now it was your turn. You took a deep breath and stared straight ahead at the knight, swallowing all your fear and showing him how determined you were to live.
He paused and let his sharp eyes rake over your body from your hair to your toes, something about you must’ve stuck out to him, because he pointed neither right nor left.
"What’s with the old books?" The knight asked, sounding slightly amused.
" … I didn’t want to leave them behind, they mean a lot to me," you explained.
"How touching," the blond man scoffed, "You must be a strange one to bring trash to a place like this."
You refused to entertain him any further and just stared straight into his eyes. His laughter died down and he waved his hands at the guards.
"I know who might find her odd behavior entertaining, bring her to the castle," he ordered and the men obeyed, grabbing your arms and causing you to nearly drop your books, which made the knight grin.
• Instead of a labor slave who helped to build the temple of these strange people, you were tasked with looking after the library inside the castle. The building was so big, that you often got lost when walking from your sleep chamber in the dungeons to the library, which itself was spacious enough to fit an entire village of people.
A few servants worked alongside you, sorting books which you never knew the origins of and dusting off the hundreds of shelves crammed into the many tall rooms.
You learned a lot about your new masters during that time.
The Celestial Dragons saw themselves as the Gods of the world and viewed anyone who wasn’t born within the pearly gates of Marie Geoise as scum, filthy insects they could squash underneath their boots without fear of any consequences. Most of them were too lazy to ever set foot into the biggest library of the holy city, but the few who did, either ignored you entirely or treated you with polite distance.
This wasn’t how you had imagined your first voyage out into the world at all, but every time you looked through the windows and saw the gruesome fate of all those who had to carry stones upon their broken backs, you thanked whichever God had heard your prayer that you were still alive. But with each passing day you grew more anxious that your family would never find you again.
[ Your first meeting … ]
• You climbed up a tall ladder with a few books balanced on your right hand as you made your way up the shelf. Just as you were leaning over to place the books where they belonged, you noticed that you were losing your balance. Knowing that the fall would be steep enough to break your neck, you struggled to hold back onto the ladder, but it was hopeless.
With a loud scream you fell backwards towards the hard wooden floor.
Fearing this would be your end, you closed your eyes and hoped for the pain to be over quickly.
When you landed you were surprised at how soft the ground felt. You blinked slowly, blinded by the light of the chandelier hanging above you, it took a moment before you realized you were gazing up at the man who had caught you.
"You shouldn’t be so careless when you’re up that high," the old man scolded you as you were lying in his arms.
"I'm sorry, I must have been daydreaming again," you replied with a nervous chuckle.
The old man raised a brow and looked you over in silence, you tilted your head and waited for him to say something. His long, white beard made it impossible for you to tell if he was smiling or frowning at you, but when you squinted your eyes at him, it finally dawned on you whose arms you had fallen into.
"Oh- Oh! Forgive me," you blurted out and tried to climb out of his hold.
Not just the arms of anyone, no, the arms of one the Five Elders. The highest known authority of all humanity, five men whose appearances were so rare outside of Pangea Castle that many people believed them to be legends.
"You foolish thing, are you trying to get yourself hurt once more?" Saint Mars noted and shook his head before he bent down to help your feet back on the ground.
Without needing to be told, you fell to your knees and pressed your forehead against the wooden floor to his feet, begging for forgiveness.
"I promise to be more careful from now on, something like this will never happen again, my Lord!"
The Saint folded his hands behind his back and slowly walked past you, you followed him with your eyes and held your breath in fear. He was quite the tall man, and although his shoulders weren’t as broad as those of the knights, he radiated an impressive strength. You supposed it only made sense for the rulers of the Gods and the whole world to have a powerful aura surrounding them at all times.
"Come with me, show me which books you'd consider worthy of my time," he instructed you without waiting to see if you'd follow.
You were back on your feet as soon as he had finished speaking, then you lifted the skirt of your dress and caught up with Saint Mars as he walked through the library's many halls.
"Well, if I may ask, what sort of books would you fancy, my Lord? I'm sure someone of your standing already knows everything there is to know," you told him earnestly.
The Saint stroked through his beard and suddenly stopped.
"Then present your favorite books to me, do not fret over what my old eyes might have already seen," he suggested and left you feeling quite confused.
Nonetheless, you lead the Elder to the section in which you spent most of your time - a tall shelf carved from dark wood containing all books and stories of the occult and otherworldly. You weren’t sure if the Saint would find any of this nonsense entertaining, but if you were going to follow his commands, you'd at least be truthful.
"Here, my Lord," you said and bowed.
Saint Mars seemed to be waiting for you to pick a book, you craned your neck to get a better overview of all them. You found just what you were looking for, but unfortunately it was out of your reach and your ladder still on other side of the library.
"It's riiiiight up there-" You told him and pointed upwards.
The older man suddenly placed his hands on your waist and gave it a light squeeze, a faint gasp left your lips as you were lifted up by Saint Mars like you weighed nothing. Thanks to his strength you most likely didn’t, you couldn’t help but turn red out of sheer embarrassment.
With shaky hands you pulled out the book and nodded towards the Saint so he'd slowly place you back down.
• The afternoon sun fell through the tall windows of the library when you sat down across from the noble and watched him turn through the worn out pages. He remained silent for a while, you tried to sit somewhat comfortably without appearing careless in his presence. Never before had you thought you'd one day be watching one of the men who controls the world as he flips through an old book that once belonged to you.
And as shameful as the thought was, you wished to move closer towards him. You checked twice to make sure he was busy reading, then scooted closer by just a few inches. Now you could pick up on the faint scent of his perfume clinging to the luxurious fabric of his suit, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
When you opened them again you caught him looking over at you.
"This book, I don’t recall ever seeing it here before," he told you.
"Well, I brought it with me when I was kidnapped- I mean … when I came here," you elaborated and tried to smile through your slip-up.
Saint Mars' fingers tapped against the back of the book as if he was thinking something over.
"Odd for the daughter of a farmer to be fascinated by something many would consider disturbing," he noted and closed the book.
"You know who I am?" The question spilled from your lips before you could silence yourself, but fortunately Saint Mars didn’t seem to mind.
"No one walks these sacred halls without my knowledge. I was told by my servants that you had brought these books with you, holding onto them like a family heirloom."
"Well, when you put it like that, my Lord … it's true," you answered. "I'm very fortunate to work here, if I was to work outside the castle, I wouldn’t have been able to keep these books close."
The noble hummed in agreement.
"Very well," he sighed as he rose to his feet, "I shall return to my duties now. And you, be mindful of how high up you climb as you dream."
"Yes, my Lord. I will." You swore you had seen the hint of a smile on his face, perhaps it was your imagination playing tricks on you, but either way, you felt a fluttering in your stomach after the Elder had walked away.
[ To be with him … ]
• Saint Mars would return to the library every day as soon as the sun began to set and the rooms were basked in shades of orange and red. He ordered you to sit with him and to show him a different book each day so the two of you could speak about it. If you pretended that he wasn’t a God, you almost felt as if you were growing closer to him.
But the reality of you being a slave and the Saint being … well, a Saint, gnawed away at your short lived comfort.
The other servants working at the library eyed you with great suspicion, fearing that they'd catch the eyes of the Elder and possible his ire, they kept their distance from you. You were on your own most of the time, only when the Lord visited did you have someone to speak with.
You looked forward to each meeting. You greeted him with a bow and a smile, one that was once done out of fear but now meant in earnest excitement.
"Welcome, Saint Mars!" You were waiting for him at the entrance and he handed you his coat, when you turned away to hang it up you briefly buried your nose in it - hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Truly, he also smelled like a deity.
"Is there something wrong, little one?" He asked and you hastily hung up the coat.
"No! Not at all, my Lord!"
• These visits continued for many weeks until the overseer of the library told you that your service was no longer required. Your heartbreak did not last long, because another slave brought you an envelope.
The text was written in the finest cursive with a feather and ink, there was a hint of bergamot scent infused into the paper and you immediately knew who the author was.
-
Wait for me in your chambers tonight. Do not be afraid.
And I advise you to bring your books.
( There was an unreadable signature under the short note. )
-
Equipped with your books and fearful excitement, you waited all day in your sleeping chamber.
Unfortunately it was not the Saint himself who fetched you but one of his private servants. He lead you through the castle, leading you up stairs which you had never been allowed to climb before.
The man finally stopped after a long march and opened a door for you. Behind it waited the bedroom of your dreams, spacious yet cozy and beautifully decorated. Most notably of all, it came with three book shelves, all filled with a collection worthy of a small library.
Speechless and in awe you slowly stepped towards the queen-sized bed and knelt down on the soft mattress.
" … I take it that you enjoy your new place," a familiar voice came from the door and you turned around to see Saint Mars with his arms behind his back.
"My Lord! Yes, I do, it's … wonderful. But may I ask, why?" You regretted to have questioned his decision.
Sooner than you expected the Saint was standing behind you and rested his hand on the back of your head.
"I can not bear to see a pure soul like you rot away with the other slaves any longer. So I have decided to bring you up here, where only the Gods and their most precious belongings reside," he confessed, stroking the back of his hand over your face.
"Are you sure that I deserve this?" You wondered.
"Are you doubting the decision of your God?" Saint Mars sneered.
You felt his grip tightening as he brought his hand upon your neck, but you did not flinch away.
"No, my Lord. I only have to thank you," you whispered.
"Good girl," he praised you for the first time and you felt something inside you grow hot. "Now rest, you will begin your new duties by sunrise."
You nodded and only stopped when Saint Mars placed a faint kiss on your forehead and you briefly wondered if you were beginning to lose track of reality.
[ … and what it meant to serve him. ]
• Your "new duties" turned out to be a lot stranger than you had initially thought. Now you had become far more than some mild afternoon entertainment, you were ordered to be the shadow of the God who had chose you. No matter where Saint Mars went, sitting in his study, walking through the castle gardens or entering the Room of Authority where he'd make you kneel in front of the door so you waited for him like a dog.
The Saint had not only grown found of you as a reading companion, he had developed a deep obsession with you. Naturally, he didn’t outright tell you just how much he desired to have you by his side, but his actions alone were enough.
He never ate without you sitting in his lap, he hardly picked up his feather to write if you weren’t sitting under the desk so you could rest your head on his thigh and rub your face against his crotch.
• It hadn’t taken long before this arrangement had turned intimate. One of the first few nights on the higher levels of the castle, Saint Mars visited you after he had ordered you to put on a set of dark red lingerie and wait for him on your bed.
He found you already on your hands and knees, breathing heavily as you anticipated his first move. The noble gazed at your body as if he had never seen something quite as beautiful before.
"Magnificent. I find it hard to believe you’re of mortal descent, your body belongs to that of a goddess," Mars growled, his voice sounded so much more intimidating than it usually did, "Turn around, spread your legs for me, tonight you will no longer be a slave."
When he entered you for the first time, you could only stare at him with wide eyes. The sensation of his cock buried between your folds left your whole body shivering, your purrs turned into moans which seemed to spur him on to thrust inside of you.
"Saint," you mumbled, hardly able to speak through the sounds of pleasure leaving your tongue.
"Shh, quiet, little one. This is no time for words," the noble reminded you and moved his finger between your legs so he could tease your already overstimulated clit.
The sex with him was breathtaking, he was gentle when he wanted to be and harsher when you begged for it like the good girl you were. His beard tickled your face when he kissed you, but you did not mind having a few hairs trapped between your lips when he claimed you with his tongue. You could hardly believe Saint Mars was rumored to be hundreds of years old, what ancient man could be so enduring in bed?
There was not a sliver of doubt left in your mind that you were warming the bed of an otherworldly being. One not much unlike those you loved to read about.
But as you were exhausted and close to passing out with Mars' arm wrapped around your body and his dick still nesting inside your cunt, you couldn’t have known that you’d soon discover just how much your God resembled a demon.
• During your service you came across all of the other Elders. Although you weren’t allowed to join during meetings, much to your master's dismay, you met the Gods during smaller and bigger gatherings held at the castle. Among the nobles you felt rather uncomfortable, the only safe place was at Mars' side and he seemed to agree.
"Do not speak with anyone, you are here to be seen and not to be heard," he reminded you sharply after placing a collar around your neck which signaled to all other Celestials that you belonged to a man who would execute hundreds to ensure your safety.
"Yes, sir," you replied quietly. Mars had wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in for a kiss.
"Don’t be saddened, after we leave we will have the rest of the night to ourselves," he assured you right before you entered the dancing hall.
As usual, your master had put you into the most stunning dress in the entire room. It shimmered in all colors of the rainbow and suited you like a glove thanks to the dozens of tailors who had worked tirelessly to perfect it. You admitted that it was a bit over the top, considering most women, even the wives of holy knights, were donning much more muted colors, but being the object of desire of the world’s highest elite had its perks.
No one could ridicule you without the fear of punishment.
Except for the other Elders.
As you followed Saint Mars around and did your best to look pretty for him, you overheard the other Gorosei speak of your briefly.
"I can not fathom how one can grow so attached to an insect," Saturn scoffed and waited for his food to be tasted by a slave before he took the first bite.
"I hope it won’t distract him from his work," Warcury hummed in agreement and waved his fork around.
"I don’t expect either of you two to understand, but perhaps you could use a girl like her too," Saint Shepherd commented and sipped on his wine as his fellow Elders shook their heads in disbelief.
"Mars hasn’t neglected his duties even once, I see no reason to interfere," Nusjuro added and all four men continued with their dinner.
• After the party was over, Mars carried you upstairs into your chambers where he helped to undress you and placed you in front of the mirror so he could marvel at your body from all angles. His hands explored every fold and tiny bit of fat on your body, anywhere he could squeeze and feel how soft you were compared to him.
"Tell me, doll, if you could wish for one thing, what would it be?" He asked you and pressed himself against your back.
You stared at your own reflection and for a brief second you were taken back to your hometown before the flames had stolen it. You remembered sitting in the fields, watching the clouds, dreaming of traveling the world and discovering if all those myths in your books were true or not.
"It's rather silly," you admitted, parting your lips so the old man could kiss you.
"That was an order," he reminded you.
"Well, if I could wish for anything … then I'd like to meet a Yōkai, I want to see if they’re as terrifying as the pictures I’ve seen in my books! It must be fascinating to stand before a creature you thought could only live in nightmares. The fear, the adrenaline, my own curiosity that would get the best of me-!" You told him enthusiastically, feeling your heart drum in your chest as you put your hands over it.
Saint Mars stayed silent and continued to listen to you ramble about those cursed spirits you begged to see. You thought he was only using the time to enjoy the view of your naked flesh, but in reality, he was considering if you were truly ready to have your wish fulfilled.
"Are you certain this is your greatest desire?" He asked again, cupping your face with both of his hands.
"Yes," you proclaimed, leaving no room for discussion.
"Very well then," Mars said with a click of his tongue.
• A few nights later he returned from a long meeting with the other Gorosei and brought a coat for you with him.
"Here, put this on, we will be leaving the castle tonight," he instructed.
The coat turned out to belong to him, it was much too big for you, but as you wrapped it around your body you realized that you had never felt so safe and protected before. With Mars' hand on your back, the two of you left Pangea Castle for the first time since you had been brought to the library.
You enjoyed the fresh air and the sight of the starry sky as the Saint walked you through the empty streets of Marie Geoise.
Eventually you reached the cliffside where you had taken your first steps as a slave. Saint Mars kept his arms around you tight, knowing him he probably feared that you'd be too clumsy and fall down into the ocean below.
"I’ve decided to make your dream come true, but I can not promise you that you’ll enjoy the sight of it. No sane mortal should desire to face a demon," Mars began, his voice got caught in the cold sea breeze and you pulled the coat tighter around your shoulders.
"If I may speak, my Lord, no one has ever called me sane," you joked and managed to get a short scoff out of the old man.
You couldn’t lie, the prospect of meeting a demon right here and now send a shiver down your spine, but if anyone could make it possible, then it was certainly a God like Mars. So with growing anticipation, you rubbed your hands together and waited for a monster to appear.
Saint Mars stepped closer to the cliff, a few pebbles broke off and began their steep descent into the waves of the four seas. You stayed exactly where he had left you, your eyes widen open, staring upon his back.
From one moment to the next the night was engulfed in the light of a purple flame, you squeezed your eyes shut to avoid being blinded and shielded your face with your arms from the unspeakable heat. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind, had Mars truly summoned a demon for you? Was he simply playing a trick on you for his own amusement? You remained frozen until you could see that the night was dark once again.
…
Saint Mars was gone. Instead of the Elder standing at the cliff, there was an enormous bird sitting in his place with wings as big as the towers of Pangea Castle, a long neck resembling that of a giraffe and a beak large enough to tear down roofs. The colors of its feathers were blinding, even in the pale moonlight they shimmered just like your most opulent evening gown.
With a bright smile you ran towards the gigantic beast and stopped just behind its tail which was covered in flames.
"Hey!" You called out and waved your hand. "I'm down here!"
The bird turned its head around and you looked into those piercing yellow eyes without a hint of fear. How could you be a scared of something so … breathtakingly beautiful?
"Little one," the bird said in a slightly distorted voice and bent down so its beak laid in front of you in the tall grass.
You stepped closer and extended your hand, the bird moved so you could rest your palm on its beak.
"Are you not afraid of what I am?" The monster asked and you finally understood that you weren’t looking at just any demon - this was the true form of the God who had chosen you.
Your mouth hung open in a never ending, silent gasp. Frozen in complete awe, you watched the flames dance on the bird's head and tried to make sense of the dark ring of clouds going across its back. After a while you shook your head to escape this state of shock and finally found your voice again.
"No! This … this is fantastic, why didn’t you tell me sooner?" You cheered and ran around him.
Mars craned his long neck to keep his eyes on you, worried that he could step on you if he did not.
"Only a handful of souls have ever seen me transform, consider this a special reward for your obedience," the yōkai continued, "You are a strange one, litte mortal."
You couldn’t contain your happiness and did a little jump.
"My Lord, may I sit on your back?" You asked with a deep bow, when that gesture didn’t yield the desired reaction, you tried your best puppy eyes on Saint Mars. "Pleeeaaaase!"
The bird frowned and looked out at the sea.
" … Fine, I will grant your wish." He agreed reluctantly.
With no hesitation you climbed up on Mars' side, he lay down in the grass so you wouldn’t fall too deep if you slipped up. Once you had reached the top of the feathery mountain, you held on tight and the bird rose back to his full height. Up here you could look over the entire forest behind you and half of the holy city.
"I'm ready," you squeaked, still wrapped in Mars' coat you truly did look like an insect on his back now.
"Do not let go under any circumstances, if you feel sick or start to freeze, I will land immediately," he promised you and looked back at you to make sure you were still absolutely certain about this.
Mars opened his wings and you watched closely as he swung them towards the ground and the two of you left the safety of the earth behind and rose into the night sky. The Saint couldn’t help himself and let out a screech as he soared through the clouds. He pointed his beak down and headed towards the ocean beneath the Red Line. He stopped just before hitting the water and glided over the waves.
Your hair flew in the wind and you had trouble keeping the coat on your shoulders while also holding onto the demon.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Mars wondered.
You managed to climb closer to his neck and wrapped your arms around the beginning of his throat.
"Yes," you sighed dreamily.
The Elder flew higher again, rising up until he broke through the clouds and so far above the holy land that the white marble houses looked as if they belonged to ants instead of Celestials.
"Do not move," Mars warned you and opened his jaws wide.
What followed would be a sight you knew you'd never forget. Mars shot a blast of fire into the far distance, the heat along was enough to make you duck your head down, but the colors were spectacular and you wished you could have had a moment longer before the beam of flames disappeared.
Once the adrenaline wore off, you began to feel exhausted, but you didn’t wish for this night to be over yet. So you curled up between Saint Mars' feathers and closed your eyes, the sound of his wings flapping softly through the air put you to sleep like a lullaby.
A few minutes after you were long passed out, Saint Mars checked on you and couldn’t believe you were sleeping so idly on his back.
"A strange girl indeed," he said to himself rather fondly and brought you back to the castle, where he carefully wrapped your sleeping body into your blanket and joined you in bed.
Bonus:
• Naturally, this wouldn’t be the last time you'd ride on Mars' back as he flew down from the Red Line. With each flight you grew more comfortable and began to stand or even walk around as the Saint flew further and further away from the palace. Once you confessed to him that your new home felt a bit like a cage, Mars showed you as many different islands as he could to give you a taste of the freedom you lost.
"Do you think those people down there are afraid when they see you flying above their heads?" You wondered as you squinted your eyes to see the villagers below staring up at the giant bird who was said to appear during times of great suffering.
"I do not concern myself with the sensibilities of mortals, little one," Mars replied as the villagers began to scream in terror. "And neither should you."
You knelt down between his feathers and curled up to shield yourself from the cold … and to distract yourself from the grim memories plaguing your mind.
Your sudden mood shift didn’t go unnoticed by the Saint, who swiftly returned to the holy land.
In the privacy of your bedroom Mars demanded to know why you were no longer blessing him with your smile.
"It's nothing, my Lord," you dismissed him and took off his coat.
Mars grabbed your wrist and pulled you against his chest.
"Do not lie to me again," he growled, "Who dares to sour your mood?"
With a heavy sigh you chose to tell him.
"It's about my family, when my village was burned down I lost sight of them and I haven’t been able to find them … All i want to know is if they’re alright."
Mars played with your hair as he carefully considered your request.
"You’re a God, no? Can’t you send someone to look for them?" You pleaded, hoping that the Saint had grown soft enough to entertain your idea.
"Very well, it seems I can’t bring myself to deny your wishes."
• Your newfound confidence around Mars not only lead you to speak your mind more freely and express your desires without shame, you also became a bit of a brat.
"Lie down, my dear, I'll be taking you until dawn," he proclaimed upon entering the bedroom after a long meeting with the other Elders.
"Hmm, what if I refuse?" You teased him and let your night gown fall to reveal that you were dressed in nothing but a tight bodice which squeezed your breasts together.
"Can an old man not expect his woman to do as he commands?" Mars scoffed and sat down at the edge of the bed. He patted his lap and raised an eyebrow at you. "Come here."
You bit your lip and crawled over to the tall man on your hands and knees. Before you could deny him once more, he grabbed you with his inhuman strength and you swore you felt a surge of his haki prickling on your skin. The shock was enough to go straight to your pussy, making it nearly impossible to fight back when Mars threw you over his thighs with your bare ass on display.
"Let us try something simpler, all you have to do is stay still and count. Can you do that for me?"
You nodded. Mars began to bruise your ass with nothing but his bare hand, each slap was practiced and felt intentional, he knew exactly where to hit so it'd sting hard and leave you whimpering for mercy. But just like with his enemies, Mars had no intention of being soft on you.
What followed your punishment was a night filled with carnal desire and a soft burn on your ass after each thrust of Mars' hips, slamming his cock so deep inside of you, that you wished he could breed you.
• Mars loved it when you brushed his beard and hair in the morning, sometimes you would also braid it just to mess with him. What was once a task assigned to the slaves had now become an intimate ritual between the two of you.
• Due to how many eyes were pointed at you at all times both from other Celestials and slaves, Mars preferred to keep you locked up in the safety of the castle. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.
"Humans are so very fragile, you must understand that I can not let you walk freely without me by your side. It'd simply be … too dangerous."
• During one of your many flights one of Mars' feathers fell out and you decided to keep it as decoration in your room - who else could proudly claim to own a feather from the great Itsumade?
• When you found out all the other Gorosei could turn into Yōkai as well, you never grew tired of begging Mars to see them all, but unfortunately the old men had no sense of humor.
At the very least, Mars was kind enough to go through your favorite encyclopedia with you and point out each demon that the Elders could transform into. The only one that'd remain a secret to you was Saint Shepherd, Mars tried to draw him for you, but when you saw the crude sketch of a rainbow worm you could only laugh.
• Thanks to your status as the most precious treasure of Saint Mars, your family no longer needed to work and resided in a small manor on the outskirts of the holy land. It had taken much begging and pleading from you, but in the end your God had a sliver of mercy left in him after all.
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