#he just wants all religions to be private!!

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ yeah, yeah, pornstar!gojo, and all... but what about pornstar!reader, and fan!gojo?

gojo is obsessed with everything you put out there. notifications blare, ensuring he is the first to see every post. his phone is always glued to his hand, your channel is his goddamn religion.

he ditches anyone, ducks into bathrooms, alleys, wherever to catch a glimpse of that sweet pussy. he even contemplates risking getting caught jerking off on a public tram, his strained pants a testament to his desperation. a crowded tram, mind you. he doesn't even care.

and, that michelin-star dinner? kicked out. again. because he can’t keep his hands off his phone, and his volume down. the head waiter gives him a look that could kill, and gojo just shrugs, already halfway through his next video.

he really is your biggest hype-man, and also your richest one. his tips? a goddamn tidal wave in the chat. every moan you make, every twitch of your hips, fuels his own private show. and, well, you've got to make it up to him somehow, right?

in return, you let him control your toys. you take it so well, he thinks, the highest setting of your lovense. that remote control? a shitty substitute for his own hands, really.

if a vibrator does this to you… he strokes himself, mimicking your rhythm, a frustrated, aching pulse, the image of your slick heat filling his mind. he wants to feel it, wants to hear you scream his name. you're gripping the sheets of the bed, head thrown back.

if just a little vibrator is doing this to you, he can't imagine how you'd react to his cock.

gojo's hand slides up and down his hard length, throbbing with arousal as he watches you moan.

"oh, fuck," you cry, "i— i'm gonna cum!" and, cum you do, as your hips buck, body tensing, and fluttering hole gushes liquid. he times his own release just seconds after, and it feels like the closest he'll ever get to you.

you've wrecked him, completely. he can't even have a girlfriend anymore, because he's always groaning your name during sex with them. it's the only way he can get off, now.

pictures and videos, that is. exclusive content, little bits and pieces of you — anything he can get, he'll have. you're the only thing he thinks about, you've turned him into a porn addict.

sleep is a war zone, gojo's brain replaying your every move until he is jerking off into his own hand, the sheets sticky and smelling faintly of his seed.

he fantasizes, raw and dirty, about burying his face between your legs, about the slick heat of your cunt, about the way you’d scream when he finally comes.

he wants to fill you, wants to hear you beg. gojo lies awake at night, his mind a whirlwind of your images, replaying old videos, memorizing every curve, every sound.

(and yeah, he has a fan account. pathetic? maybe. but he doesn't give a fuck. he has to spread the word, has to make sure everyone knows just how amazing you are. plus, he likes reading the comments. it makes him feel proud of you.)

gojo strokes his leaky dick at night, submitting into his fantasies of shoving your head into a pillow and dragging his sensitive tip across your slit, getting to release his load into your soaked walls.

but, at some point, god must finally be on his side, because ten minutes after your latest livestream, he is met with a dm from you — "how would u like to 2 mess with those controls in person <33"

after all those enormous tips he's sent your way, isn't it time for you to give him something extra?

[kisakunt]

Choso getting all jealous of a fuck machine and your dildo collection?

-🫡

“Why do you need that?” It’s a simple question, but you can’t tell if he’s angry or not. You and Choso were going through your closet, some spring cleaning if you will, and he happened to stumble upon your private box.

“I don’t know, it’s fun.” You don’t think it’s a big deal. Almost every girl has a sex toy or two. Sure, maybe you’re a little bit overboard— you did buy a three hundred dollar contraption that physically fucks your favorite dildo into you— but are you so bad for liking a little pleasure?

He pauses, fingers tracing over the veins on your hyperrealistic toy.

“Am I,” He starts, pausing for a second as if he’s questioning himself. “Am I not doing a good enough job?” Shit.

“No! No, baby, you’re perfect.” You reach and grab the dildo out of his hands, quickly shoving it out of the box. “You’re gone a lot, though, and I don’t know… I get needy, I guess?”

“Oh.” That didn’t seem to appease him. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I didn’t mean to leave you unfulfilled.”

“No! Cho, you’re not understanding.” Your hand is over his and it feels like religion. You never get over him. “I think about you every time.”

“Yeah but if I were fucking you enough you wouldn’t need this.” Your heart drops. In some sick, twisted way you think it’s cute. 

“Is it better than me?”

“No.” He finally looks up at you, eyes full of something you can’t seem to understand, and also a little pain.

“Does it make you cum?” You’re not going to lie to him. If it didn’t, that would be a horrible waste of three hundred dollars.

“Yes.”

He’s grabbing you before you can even think twice, yanking you towards your bed with still such a timid touch. It’s a soft push when your back falls onto the mattress, and he’s on top of you in an instant.

“I’m the only thing that’s supposed to make you cum.” Choso fucks sweet. He can get rough, he can fuck you like he hates you, but despite all that he is a gentle lover. There’s never been a moment having sex with him that you haven’t felt his care radiating from him. You can still feel it right now as he latches himself onto your neck— open-mouthed and sloppy—, but there’s a sense of selfishness you’ve never felt before. Possession. He’s jealous.

It’s a silly concept, you think, to be jealous of a sex toy— but Choso is a silly guy. His hands trace down your stomach, fingers hovering over your hip before they go lower, touching you over your pants.

“I don’t like that you have those.” Choso is never controlling. You know he’s not telling you to get rid of them, more so conveying his emotions to you like you’ve begged him to do.

You gasp as he circles your clit, pussy wet under the cloth of your leggings. There’s a sense of routine when you and Choso fuck. He’s always asking what’s okay, always asking what feels good, always checking on you. But now, he strips you naked without a word, bringing himself down to suck at one of your tits while his hand goes back down to your now bare cunt.

He doesn’t waste time with your clit. His fingers plunge inside you, curling into your g-spot as he moves them in and out of you.

“Does it go faster than this?”

“Yes,” It’s shaky, because even though it hasn’t been long Choso knows how to make you feel good. Then he speeds up and it’s better and you’re cockdrunk without even having his cock.

“Oh, shit.” His tongue is back to lapping circles around your nipple, his hair poking at your neck, his chin pressing into your ribs, and you’re overwhelmed. The room is full of sounds of just wet— from his mouth and your pussy— and it’s vulgar and crass and lewd and you want him.

You cum quick. He feels it on his middle and ring finger— you taught him that, you taught him everything, he’s your picture perfect fuck toy— and whines into your chest.

“I’m going to fuck you now.”

It doesn’t take him long to live up to his promise. He’s bottoming out in you without a second thought, balls hitting you every time he thrusts.

“This is what you’re supposed to have.” You think you might be stupid right now. Actually, you can’t think at all— sharp breaths and erratic moans leaving you.

Choso is a whiner, but right now he groans. He’s fucking you like he needs you, like he loves you, like you’re meant to be his.

It’s almost grotesque; the way your pussy drips from both of your arousal, the sloppiness of the way it sounds each time he bullies in and out of you, the desperation from your spasming cunt.

“Does it feel like this?” He’s barely getting out the words, almost incomprehensible. “Does it fuck you better than me? Does it fucking love you?”

That’s enough to make you cum again. And now, you feel stupid for ever having it.

“I’m sorry!” He’s relentless, each thrust pounding at your cervix, stretching out the softness of your walls. “I’m sorry, I’m yours, I’m sorry.” And it’s beyond the toys, it’s beyond the insecurity and jealousy, it’s beyond primal emotions.

It’s connection. Sweat drips from his hair onto your cheeks, and in a desperate move you lift your head to lick it off his temple. He owns you. You can both feel it in the way your soft walls clench around him, you can both feel it as your legs wrap in a loose pretzel around his waist, you can both feel it as tears form in your eyes from how much it all is.

“I love you, I’m sorry, I’m yours.” It’s weak, muffled by your moans and the sound of his pelvic bone slapping yours. His hips rub at your clit each time he snaps them into you, his cock grazing the top of your pussy in a way you didn’t know was possible.

“Cum, please,” It’s pure yearning. You can tell he’s close from the way he hiccups his breaths, from the way his head has dipped down into the crook of your neck, from the way he begs you through gritted teeth. “I need you to cum, let me make you cum.”

And how could you deny Choso? So you let go, nails scratching at his back, fingers gripping at the slightest bit of fat on his waist, head lulled into the mattress, and you cum.

And so does he, continuing his choppy movements to fuck his cum further and further into you, getting you as full of him as he can.

He collapses on you for a brief moment, before he shifts himself out of you and next to you, arm wrapping around you as he presses kisses onto the top of your head.

“Is it better than that?” It’s breathy, exhausted and worn, but he sounds so sure of himself you can almost see his smile.

“No.” Choso hums, shifting gears into aftercare.

You finish your cleaning the next day, and when you’re back in your closet, Choso can’t find your precious collection anywhere. He thinks he must’ve done a good job.

[windcloudii]

Okay, so here I have Possessed Luo Binghe's Bodypillow AU. It is also connected to this post: 

Modern Cumplane × Bingge. (Bingge/Yuan/Qinghua basically) Part 1

Modern Cumplane has established a relationship and lives together peacefully until Shen Yuan gets Luo Binghe's body pillow.

Airplane: Bro, I think this pillow is possessed. All these weird dreams started from that point on.

Yuan: I don't think it's Binghe. You just watched too many horror movies.

Bingge: It's true, A-Yuan. I have nothing to do with this~ Leave me in your bed.

Airplane: You were so deep in the closet and look where you ended up, in my bed. You really think a closet is gonna help?

More under cut>

Everything is fine at first, but now and then, Airplane notices a hard stare from the pillow. + he starts to sleep even worse than he was when writing PIDW. He gets both horny and horror dreams, Shen Yuan, too, but he refuses to elaborate. Stares and intense atmosphere get especially strong when they make out. 

Airplane deduces that the Pillow is probably possessed by some horny spirit as karmic punishment for writing PIDW and has no idea that it's actually Bingge, who, on the search for kind Shizun, came across this world. Sadly, he is low on energy and can't get into this world in his own body yet, but he can peek out of his body pillow. Firstly, he wants to leave immediately until he notices a room full of items of him ??? The room looks unfamiliar, completely strange and bizarre, and yet full of totems (statues?) Of him. Is it a shrine? No, he also sees a bed, so probably not. 

Intrigued, Bingge stays and follows the life of a pair. Both of them remind him of someone, but he still can't pinpoint where he has seen them, so he continues his stal-  research. He can leave the pillow back and forth. Day by day, he gains more power and can influence the world, so of course, he messes with them a little (not) bit. They know him so well (he needs to find out how they knew even private information), so they probably won't mind, right? They can't expect him to just sit and watch.

Shang Qinghua tries to convince Shen Yuan to get rid of it. But man chooses denial and repression. Classic Cucumber. Airplane tries to exorcise him with different ways from different religions, but nothing seems to work. 

Airplane: I'm going crazy, but... *looks at the pillow* I came to negotiate; no exorcism works against you, so I have no idea what to do except make a deal. You're not planning to get rid of me, and I'm not planning it either. And I will not tearfully beg Cucumber to get rid of you. 

Bingge: *talks for the first time* Now you come to me, but you don't ask with respect.

Airplane: *high-pitched scream*

[agoraphobialt]

Priest John Price doing pussy inspections.

cw: power imbalance, religion, cnc.

After retiring earlier due to an injury on his leg that left him depending on a cane to move around, John decided that he needed to find something to believe, something that could explain why the world wanted him to stop saving the world, from that path he always thought he would follow until he died.

So he became a devoted man; he found some sense of the mess of his life there. He liked preaching, talking to people about the one above all of us. He liked to call himself the one who talked to Jesus, and people believed in him. He liked playing god, but that's no surprise.

No one doubted him; he was a well-respected man, everyone was the sheep, and he was the shepherd.

That's why when one day he called you to a private area in the church to tell you about a small problem, you got nervous; he always made your legs feel like jelly— but only because he was God's messenger!.

Once you were sitting in front of him, surrounded by the smell of his cologne mixed with his own scent and his smile that made your cheeks burn, he began to explain to you that there had been some rumours about you losing your purity, and it horrified you because you were incapable of doing such a thing before finding your forever one.... You immediately denied it, but he wasn't convinced at all. "I dunno, sweetheart… girls these days, eh? They can be dead sneaky, God forgive me for sayin’ it."

those words and the horror of disappointing him made your eyes burn. "Now listen, love…" he continued but softer this time, it wasn't in his plans to make you cry, he could never hurt such a small thing like you. "I know you’re not like all of these other girls, always doing everything but god wishes. That’s why I’m speakin’ to you— because I see the good in you, I do. All I’m askin’ is to let me do a small inspection... just so we can put all these rumours to rest, eh? No shame in it."

And of course you accepted. You would do anything he asks you, he just wants to help you because you know he has a pure heart.

So you didn't question when he asked you to stand up and to hold onto the desk; you didn't think twice about him standing behind you, and of course you let him manhandle you until your legs were split and your panties were pooling on your ankles. "Just need to make sure she’s still pure, y’see… like she's ought to be. Pure in the eyes of the Lord, untouched by temptation. That’s all."

He told you, and you sighted when his big and calloused fingers ran through your folds, jumping a little when he pressed one of them against your small hole. "I dunno,... might still need to check a bit more, eh?" And you just nodded because he just wanted the best for you: he was your saviour.

Your face was blushed, and there was an unknown feeling growing in your belly, and then you heard a "tsk" and then a "Sweetheart...you shouldn't be soaking down here."

That afternoon you left church with the promise of coming back the next day to continue with the inspections, because that was the only way of keeping the demons away from your body, or so he told you.

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 4

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

"You want to tell me what exactly you apologised for?" Cassian demanded as they left Azriel's bedroom. 

Azriel was curled around his mate like a tortoise shell and Cassian was quite sure that Azriel was going to slaughter everybody that would even try to get close to Irena.

Without even a second of hesitation. 

He had never seen Azriel so protective before, had never seen him so...possessive. It was almost scary how strongly his brother was reacting to almost losing his mate, how tightly he was curling himself around her like a shield. Cassian knew that mating bonds were intense, that they could drive instincts wild…Fuck, he had felt that all compassing need to pretect and claim himself…but…

But Azriel…he was radiating raw fear and intensity. 

Rhys grimaced. "I fucked up," he said frankly.

"Yeah, I agree, given that our brother preferred to keep his mate a secret for 2 years than to actually talk to us.” Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair. "What exactly did you do that made him keep this from us?" he asked sharply, his voice tinged with frustration.

He didn't want to judge his brother, didn't want to assume that Rhys was the reason for Azriel's secrecy. But he couldn't help but wonder what had caused Azriel to keep something so important from them. And he couldn't help but feel a little hurt that he had been left out of something so significant in his brother's life.

It was frustrating and confusing, and it left Cassian feeling like there was a gulf between him and his brother that he didn't know how to bridge. He just wanted to understand, wanted to make sure that he hadn't done anything to make Azriel feel like he couldn't trust Cassian…

He knew that Azriel was a private person, that he valued his solitude and his privacy. But he had never expected him to keep his mating bond a secret for so long. 

It stung a little, that Azriel had been able to hide something so significant for so long without any of them suspecting a thing.

"Around two years ago...I warned Azriel off Elain," Rhys admitted with a grimace. "I was not...particularly...appropriate with my word choices."

Azriel and Elain?! Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw dropping open in shock. "Elain?! You warned Azriel off Elain?" he asked incrediously. "I didn't even know that there was..."

"There wasn't. Not after...They...they nearly kissed during Solstice once, even with Lucien in the house and it was...I stopped them." Rhys admitted. "It was a political clusterfuck."

Cassian felt another rush of disbelief and anger wash over him at that. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't believe that Rhys had interfered in Azriel's personal life like that. "You had no right," he growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You had no right to get involved in his love life like that, Rhys."

"I had every right," Rhys snapped. "Elain has a mate and so has Azriel, as we just found out."

"He didn't know that then," Cassian disagreed. "Elain and Azriel clearly had...something between them and yet you interfered. What exactly did you say to him?"

"I ordered him not to pursue her," Rhys admitted. "I told him to leave her alone. That if he needed to fuck somebody, he should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it."Cassian's eyes widened at the admission, his jaw clenching tight as he struggled to keep his temper in check. 

"You...you ordered him?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "You actually ordered him to stay away from a girl he clearly had feelings for? And then you...you told him to..." He trailed off, unable to even finish the sentence. He couldn't believe that Rhys had done something so callous and outright cruel to their brother. It was one thing to warn Azriel off of pursuing a girl who already had a mate. But to order him around like some kind of puppet and then insult him like that...it was beyond terrible. "Yeah. No fucking wonder, he didn't say a single word about Irena," Cassian growled under her breath. "You can probably consider yourself lucky that he didn't snap your neck for that, Rhys!"

Rhys winced at the words, his expression turning apologetic. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm...I don't really have an excuse. I was just...I thought I was doing what was best for him, for our Court. I didn't mean to..."

He trailed off, his voice shaking with emotion. Cassian could see how much his brother was struggling with this, how much the knowledge of what he had done was eating away at him. And he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rhys, even as he was still seething with anger towards him.

He knew that Rhys had always tried to do what he thought was right, that he had always tried to protect their Court and their family. But sometimes...sometimes he made mistakes. And those mistakes had consequences, consequences that were often painful and devastating.

"I did apologise," Rhys said weakly.

"Oh, did you?" Cassian said with a snort. Rhys's apology did little to improve Cassian's temper, his anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "And that makes it all better then?" he demanded, his voice tinged with bitterness. "A simple apology fixes everything? Clearly it doesn't! Otherwise we would have known! Azriel would have told us that he met his mate!"

"What apology?" A voice behind them demanded, and Cassian should probably not be surprised to not only find his own mate there, but also Mor and his High Lady.

"Feyre Darling...Where is Nyx?" Rhys asked

"With Cerridwen. Don't change the topic," Feyre demanded. "What in the cauldron even happened?!"

Cassian let out a low sigh, shaking his head at the interruption. He couldn't help but feel a little grateful for the distraction, though. "Rhys told Azriel not to pursue Elain romantically three years ago.," he explained, his voice tight. "Ordered him to stay away, even. Azriel's been keeping his mate a secret from us for two years now."

He could see the shock and confusion on Feyre's face as he spoke, the disbelief that her mate could have done something so thoughtless and hurtful. He couldn't blame her, really. He was still struggling to wrap his head around it himself.

It didn't make any sense to him, how Rhys could have done something like that without realizing how much it would hurt their brother. How could someone who was supposed to be a High Lord, supposed to be their leader, be so blind to the pain of those he was supposed to protect? It was baffling and frustrating and it made Cassian's blood boil.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it, not right now. Not when they had bigger problems to worry about...like the fact that Azriel had a mate, a mate he had been hiding for two whole years. He knew what a mating bond felt like, knew how all-consuming and intense it could be.

The last thing he had expected was for Mor to start laughing."What?" Cassian snapped, his temper flaring up again. "What's so funny?"

Mor’s laughter continued, her body trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. "I'm sorry," she gasped, her voice choked with mirth as she grinned at him. "It's just...it's just so Azriel. Of course, he would keep his mate a secret for two whole years.”

Cassian stared at her in disbelief, his anger giving way to confusion. "That's what you find funny?" he asked incredulously. "That our brother kept his mate hidden for two bloody years?"

He couldn't understand why Mor would find that amusing, why she was laughing at something that was supposed to be a serious and painful secret. Didn't she know how much it must have hurt Azriel to keep his mate hidden for so long, to keep his feelings for her bottled up inside? Didn't she know how hard it must have been for him to keep up the facade of being fine, of being single and alone?

He couldn't wrap his head around it, couldn't make sense of Mor's humour in the situation. All he could feel was confusion and frustration, and a deep sadness for his brother who had to keep his mating bond a secret for so long.

He had always known that Azriel was a private person, that he didn't like to share his personal life with others. But he had never known that he could keep something like this a secret for so long. It was...it was almost scary, how good Azriel was at hiding his feelings and emotions.

“You find it funny, that Azriel didn’t trust any of us with her?” Nesta asked flatly.

Mor's laughter died down at Nesta's words, her expression turning somber. "No, of course not," she said quietly. "It's just...it's just typical Azriel. He's always been so careful about guarding his emotions, about keeping his love life hidden. I never would have guessed that he had a mate, let alone for two whole years."

“I am not surprised that he didn’t tell you,” Nesta bit out. “Not as you spend 500 years using his own feelings against him.

Mor flinched at Nesta's words, her expression turning pained. "Nesta, that's...that's not fair," she protested. "I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to."

But Nesta wasn't finished, her eyes blazing with anger as she took a step towards Mor. "You spent five centuries playing with his heart, using him like some kind of toy. And now you're surprised that he didn't tell you about his mate? After everything you've put him through?"

Mor looked down, avoiding Nesta's gaze. "I...I know that I made mistakes," she said quietly. "But I never meant to hurt him."

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please," she sneered. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew exactly how Azriel felt about you, and you used it to your advantage. You used him. And after the mating bond between you and Emerie snapped, you never tried to actually talk to him!“

Cassian nearly missed Rhys wincing. Nearly.

“You have anything to do with that too?” He asked darkly.

Rhys flinched at the accusation, his expression turning guilty. "I...I may have had something to do with it," he admitted quietly. "But I was just trying to help. I didn't mean..."

Cassian stared at his brother in disbelief, his anger rising up in him like a tidal wave. "You...you interfered? Again?" he hissed. “What did you tell Azriel?” He demanded.

Rhys sighed, picking a piece of invisible lint of his jacket. "I told him not to ruin this for Mor. That she went through enough.”

Cassian felt a wave of frustration wash over him at Rhys's words. "And you didn't think that maybe Azriel had enough as well?" he asked, his voice barely more than a growl.

He couldn't believe that Rhys had tried to interfere in Azriel's life again, that he had caused even more pain for their brother. And all for the sake of Mor, someone who had rejected Azriel time and time again. It was ridiculous and infuriating. 

But the more he heard…the more he understood why Azriel had kept Irena a secret. 

He had met his mate and had protected her fiercely, cossetted her away from any of them who could hurt them…had kept her to himself, so Rhys couldn’t say any other idiotic and harebrained thing…Had kept his mate to himself, because he adored her and hadn’t wanted to share. Which quite frankly, Cassian could absoltuely understand now. 

And still… Cassian knew what a mating bond could do to someone, how intense and consuming it could be. And the thought that Azriel, their quiet and reserved brother, had had to keep that kind of intensity hidden for so long...it was almost too much for Cassian to fathom.

He didn't know how Azriel had managed it, how he had kept his mating bond a secret for so long without anyone else noticing. It must have been a monumental effort, a constant struggle to keep his emotions and instincts in check.

And the fact that he had done all of that alone, without any support or understanding from the rest of them...it broke Cassian's heart. 

And Cassian himself had not made it better. How often had he teased his brother about his love life. Even, and maybe especially,  when Azriel had told him to fuck off?

Too often, Cassian realized with a pang of guilt. He had never thought about how his teasing might have hurt Azriel, how it might have added to the burden of keeping his mating bond a secret.

He had always just assumed that they were all teasing each other in good fun, that it was harmless banter between siblings. But now...now he realized that maybe it hadn't been so harmless after all. Maybe it had been something much more cruel and damaging than he had ever intended.

He wished that he could take back every comment he had ever made about Azriel's love life, every joke he had ever made about his solitude. But he knew that he couldn't, that the damage had already been done.

Cassian could just hope that he could find a way to repair things with Azriel, to make amends for all of the hurt and pain that he had unintentionally caused. He just hoped that his brother would be able to forgive him, that they could move past this and build a stronger, more understanding relationship

But deep down, a nagging voice in the back of his mind told him that it might not be so easy. That the wounds inflicted by his words might run too deep to ever be fully healed.

And that thought scared him more than he cared to admit. It scared him to think that he might have forever damaged his relationship with his brother, that his careless words might have destroyed something that he had always taken for granted.

“I don’t even have the words right now,” Feyre said with a sigh.

Cassian glanced in her direction, seeing the pain and frustration written all over her face. He knew exactly what she meant. There were no words for this situation, for the hurt and confusion and betrayal that they were all feeling.

He could only imagine what Azriel must be going through right now, how much he must be struggling with his emotions and thoughts. And he had no idea how they were supposed to help him, how they could make things right again.

“I have no clue how we are supposed to fix this either,” Feyre continued.

Cassian nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over him. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Me neither."

“Leave him be,” Nesta said tightly. “He nearly lost his mate today.”

Cassian shot Nesta a sharp look, surprised by her words. "Leave him be?" he repeated. "You want to just leave him alone, after all of this?"

"He almost lost his mate today, Cassian," Nesta repeated, her voice tight with emotion. "Let him rest. Let him have some time, space. Let him have that without us bombarding him with questions and apologies."

Cassian considered her words for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt at the thought of bombarding his brother with more questions right now. He already had, hadn’t he?  He knew that Nesta was right, that Azriel needed space and time to process everything that had happened. And he knew that they had already done enough damage as it was.

So he nodded, reluctantly agreeing with her suggestion. "Alright," he said quietly. "We'll give him space. For now."

He could only hope that it would be enough, that it would give Azriel the time and space he needed to heal and process everything that had happened. And he hoped, more than anything, that it would be enough for them to repair the damage that they had done to their brother's heart.

But until then, all he could do was wait. Wait and hope that someday, somehow, they could make things right again.

And in the meantime, he would try his best to be there for Azriel, to offer him support and understanding without pushing too hard. Because that was all he could do right now.

That, and wait for a chance to finally make amends for the mistakes he had made.

Because he knew that he had a lot to make up for, and he was determined to do whatever it took to earn Azriel's forgiveness. And to be a better brother from this point forward.

***

She was warm. She was safe. Azriel was holding her...and still...in the moment she first opened her eyes, all she could remember where these last few moments before.

Irena's heart raced as the memories flooded back, of Merrill's office...of how her fellow Priestess, her friend had been sniping at her the moment she entered her office.

"We need to talk, Merrill," Irena had said.

"If Meera complained, it's her own fault," Merrill had seethed. "I don't need her help anyway, I am quicker and better on my own."

And only then Irena had realised that Merrill had already been casting that spell.

"Merrill! Stop!" she had snapped. "You can't do that! It's too..." dangerous. Dangerous was what she had wanted to say. But the word stuck in her throat as Merrill chanted that spell and then...then hell broke loose.

Then the only thing she remembered was quite a lot of pain."

There was no pain now.

There was only Azriel. Only safety and warmth and the smell of cedars...she blinked open her eyes tiredly.

"Azriel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyelids felt heavy, her body weak and boneless. But still, she felt a sense of relief wash over her as she saw him there, his arms strong and comforting around her.

She wanted to say more, to ask him if he was alright, to apologize for putting him through all of this. But she couldn't find the strength to speak, the words getting stuck in her throat. All she could do was cling to him, grateful for his presence and warmth.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, clinging to her...and only a moment later she could feel his body shudder against her own. Shudder and the salty smell of tears

Irena's eyes widened in surprise as she realized that he was crying. She had never seen Azriel cry before, not once in all the time they had spent together. But now, he was crying, a quiet sob escaping him as he buried his face in her hair.

Her heart broke at the sound, at the vulnerability he was showing her. She raised a trembling hand to stroke his hair, her fingers tangling in the silky locks. "Azriel," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. "It's alright. I'm here. I'm here."

She wanted to tell him that she was sorry, that she never meant to hurt him like this. But the words just wouldn't come, her mouth dry and her head still spinning. All she could do was hold him, trying to provide him with the only comfort she had the strength to give.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other in silence. But eventually, Azriel's tears seemed to dry up, his sobs turning into sniffles and then to deep, shaky breaths.

She felt him press another soft kiss against her forehead, his lips warm and gentle against her skin. "I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken murmur. "I thought..."

She could hear the pain and fear in his voice, and it broke her heart even more. "Shhh," she said, still stroking his hair gently. "I'm here now. I'm alright."

She could feel him nod against her, his body slowly relaxing as he held her close. "I was so scared," he whispered. "I was so scared."

She tightened her grip around him, trying to reassure him with her presence. "I know," she said softly. "But I'm here, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Never. Not when she had a single choice in that matter. 

She felt him nod again, his body finally relaxing completely against hers. 

But for now, this was enough. Just being able to hold him, to feel him pressed against her, was enough. And she hoped, with all her heart, that it was enough for him too.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain?” he asked her, his voice hoarse. “Are you…”

She looked up at Azriel, seeing the concern etched onto his features. "My abdomen hurts a little…so does my bad leg" she admitted. "But other than that, I feel fine. A little weak, but fine."

Azriel nodded, his expression still tight with worry. "Madja said that it might take a few days for you to fully recover," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But she was confident that you'll be okay."

Irena nodded, trying to smile reassuringly at him. "I'll be fine, Azriel," she said softly. "I just need some rest and I'll be good as new."

And time. Time to wrap her mind around the fact that her friend had died.

“She didn’t deserve that,” she whispered. Azriel knew what she was talking about.

“She didn’t,” he agreed softly.

“Was anybody else hurt?” Irena whispered, already hating to even contemplate it..

“Just you.”

She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her. "It's all my fault," she murmured. "If I hadn't confronted her, if I hadn't..." She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. She could still remember the look on Merrill's face, the anger and hatred in her eyes. And she knew, deep down, that she had caused it. 

Azriel's grip on her hand tightened, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. "It wasn't your fault, Irena," he said firmly. "You didn't make her do what she did. You couldn't have known that she would lash out like that."

She wanted to believe him, to let herself off the hook. But the guilt was too heavy, too all-consuming. "I should have known," she whispered, her voice choked up with emotion. "I should have been more aware, more careful."

Azriel's expression softened, his eyes full of understanding. "You can't blame yourself for this, love," he said gently. "You can't control other people's actions, no matter how much you might want to."

She knew he was right, that she couldn't keep blaming herself for what had happened. But it was hard, so hard, to let go of that guilt. "I just...I never meant for any of this to happen," she said, tears filling her eyes.

Merrill had been brilliant. And yes, she had been snappy and cruel but she had also been funny and bright and…She hadn’t been horrible. Misunderstood maybe, not very nice sometimes but she wasn’t…she hadn’t deserved to die. 

Azriel reached out, wiping away her tears with his thumb. "I know," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness. "I know you didn't."

She looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of blame or anger. But all she saw was kindness and understanding, and it almost broke her heart. "How can you be so good to me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "After everything..."

He cupped her face gently, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Because I love you," he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers. "And nothing you can ever do will ever change that. This wasn’t your fault."

She felt a lump form in her throat at his words, her heart swelling with emotion. No one had ever loved her like this before, no one had ever made her feel so safe and cherished. 

She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing as she felt him press a soft kiss against her forehead. "I love you, too," she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "More than anything."

Laying in his arms, was the most peace she had ever known. 

“They know…about us,” Azriel said, exhaling softly. “I am sorry. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them take you back to your room.”

Irena looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "They know?" she repeated. "They know about us...together?"

He didn’t need to tell her who they was. They was everybody. 

Azriel nodded, his expression serious. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I knew you didn't want anyone to know yet, but I couldn't risk them sending you back alone. You were barely conscious and..." He trailed off, his voice tight with emotion.

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tightly. "It's okay," she said softly. "I understand." And she did understand. She knew that he had only been trying to protect her, to keep her safe. And she loved him even more for it. And she had wanted to be with him. She had wanted to be held by him. It was worth it. The simple comfort of his presence was worth all the other bullshit they would need to deal with. 

Irena smiled up at him, trying to reassure him with her expression. "It doesn't matter if they know," she said. "As long as I have you, nothing else matters."

“It’s gonna be…difficult,” Azriel warned her with a grimace.

“I can deal with your brothers,” she promised him simply. She could. She did deal with them. Well, at least with the High Lord on a monthly basis. She could handle him. 

Azriel let out a laugh, shaking his head. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," he warned her, but there was a slight smile playing on his lips.

She just smiled at him, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. 

She would deal with whatever she needed. Because Azriel was worth it. 

“Madja should be back soon…do you want a bath?” He asked her softly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I can ask Gwyn or Roslin to come help you.“

Irena smiled gratefully. "Yes, a bath would be lovely," she said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over her. "But just a quick one."

Azriel nodded, his expression tender as he looked down at her. "I'll go get Gwyn," he said, brushing her hair away from her face. "You just rest for a moment."

“No,” Irena said softly. “You can help me.”

Azriel's expression softened at her words, his eyes filled with warmth. "Of course," he said gently. "Anything you need." He bent down, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her towards the bathroom. His touch was careful, his steps slow and steady, as if he was afraid of hurting her.

The shadows fluttered around, filling the bathtub, pouring something or other in there until it smelled amazing.

Irena breathed in deeply, feeling the tension in her body slowly begin to ease away. The warm, lavender-scented steam filled her nose, soothing her frayed nerves and calming her racing heart. "That smells amazing," she sighed, leaning against Azriel's chest. "What is it?"

“I have no clue,” he said drily. “I don’t get bubble baths,” he said with a pointed look at the shadows. 

He put her down to sit on the edge of the enormous Bath Tub and then very carefully unwrapped the wrappings around her wounds, and her leg. The wounds were closed now, the upper layer knitted back together, but she could still feel them. 

“Can you get out of the nightgown on your own?” Azriel asked her, hesitantly. 

“Should be fine,” Irena promised. 

She watched as he turned around, giving her some privacy. She was grateful for his consideration, but at the same time, she couldn't help feeling a little sad that he wasn't even going to sneak a peek. She shook the thought away, reaching out to tug off the nightgown and carefully lower herself into the tub.

The water was warm and soothing, and she let out a soft sigh as her body sank into it. Irena closed her eyes, feeling the tension slowly drain from her muscles. "This feels amazing," she murmured, leaning back against the edge of the tub. “You can come here,“ she said with some amusement, as he still stood at the doorway, presenting his back to her. His wings were flared as wide as they could get in the bathroom, rippling as muscles seemingly twitched beneath them. 

Azriel turned back around, his expression a mix of amusement and relief. He stepped closer to the tub, kneeling down beside it. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice gentle. "I don't want to accidentally see something you don't want me to."

Irena laughed softly, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "You're too chivalrous for your own good," she teased. "But I appreciate the thought. And yes, I'm sure. Come here."

Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he moved closer to her. He gently ran his fingers through her wet hair, brushing it away from her face. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and Irena leaned into it with a contented sigh. "That feels good," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Want me to wash your hair?” he offered her, his voice hesitant. 

Like she was ever going to turn down that offer.  Irena opened her eyes, looking up at him with a smile. "Yes, please," she said, leaning back further into the water. "I don't think I have the energy to lift my arms right now."

Azriel chuckled softly, reaching for a bottle of shampoo. He squirted a small amount into his palm before carefully working it into her hair, his fingers massaging her scalp in slow, soothing circles. The sensation was heavenly, and Irena closed her eyes again, simply enjoying the moment.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Azriel gently working the shampoo into her hair while Irena let herself relax completely. The warm water, the fragrant steam, and Azriel's gentle touch were all working together to ease away her aches and pains.

After a few more minutes, Azriel carefully rinsed her hair, his fingers tenderly brushing away any lingering soap suds. "All done," he said softly, his hands still buried in her hair. "Feeling better?"

She nodded, opening her eyes again and giving him a smile. "Much better," she said, feeling relaxed and drowsy. "Thank you."

Azriel returned the smile, his gaze full of affection. "You're very welcome, love" he said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's get you out of here and back into bed before you fall asleep in the tub."

Irena laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "That's probably a good idea," she admitted. "I don't think falling asleep in the tub would do my injuries any favours."

He insisted on keeping his eyes closed again, but between him and the shadows, they had her dry and dressed in a nightgown quickly enough.

Azriel scooped her up again as soon as she was dressed, cradling her against his chest as he carried her back to the bed. He settled her gently onto the mattress, tucking the blankets around her before sitting down beside her.

“You know…next time…you should let me return the favour,” she said softly.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You want to wash my hair, huh?" he asked, his tone teasing. "Careful, I might take you up on that offer."

“You could join me in the tub,” she said softly, biting her lip.

Azriel's eyes darkened at her suggestion, his gaze intense as he looked down at her. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "I’ll have…some…bodily reaction to that,” he pointed out.

Her cheeks flushed but she kept a hold of his hand.

Irena swallowed, feeling a flutter of both nerves and excitement in her belly. But she didn't back down. "I'm sure," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want...I want to be close to you. Like that." She could see his hesitation and the faintest hint of doubt in his eyes.

But she knew that hesitation had nothing to do with lack of desire. It was simply that he was worried about her. Worried about hurting her, or pushing her too far. And she loved him all the more for it, but she also knew that she wanted this. Wanted him.

“Think about it. She said softly. “Maybe in a few weeeks?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. "In a few weeks," he agreed softly. "When you're healed." He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Let's focus on getting you better first, hmm?"

[covenofagatha]

I adore your writing so much omg.

Agatha/Reader with a size kink and maybe include riding somewhere in there :))

I'm so tired lmao

writing size kink is lowkey really hard but hopefully i somewhat got it right

decided to combine this one with the priest!agatha fic cause i thought it was hot

literally going straight to hell for this 🫠🫣

Forgive me, Father (part 2)

You go back to confession after you can't stop thinking about Father Agatha

Word count: 2600

Warnings: religion kink, religious sex, strap-on, fingering, corrupt priest Agatha, naive and innocent and virgin reader, dubcon, slight size kink, probably some other filth

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three days since my last confession,” you say, just those words causing the memory of what happened last time to heat through you. 

The priest was already inside the booth when you came in and didn’t say a word even after your door was shut so you were forced to start. 

You still didn’t know who was in there next to you, but a part deep inside you is hoping for Father Agatha. 

The priest shifts in the booth and you bite your lip. “What do you have to confess, child?” 

It’s a man’s voice. 

Your face falls and now you have to come up with something to confess for because you don’t think he’ll be as understanding as she was. 

“I, um, the other day…” you start, completely fishing for something, when there’s a light through the partition. The door to the other half has been opened and you hear faint mutterings. 

The door closes and the priest clears his throat. “Excuse me, my child, but I must attend to an urgent matter.” 

“Oh,” you say, a little shocked. You’ve never known that they could just walk out of a confession like that. 

“Don’t fret. Father Agatha will be in shortly to hear the rest of it. She is a new wonderful addition to our parish and you’re in good hands,” he praises and you blush furiously. 

Good hands indeed. 

You cough. “We’ve met.” You can still feel her leg against your private parts – your pussy – and her fingers digging into your hips. The way pleasure rolled over your body because of her. The way her dark eyes tempted you to take a bite of the sweet, forbidden fruit of desire. 

The priest says something else that you don’t hear before getting out. You’re alone with your thoughts until the door opens again in a few minutes. 

Just from knowing that it’s her makes your heart get faster and your body starts to feel affected in the way only she makes it. 

“Hi, angel,” she says in her delightfully low voice. 

���Father Agatha,” you breathe. Her chuckle is sinful.

You can hear her moving around and her robes shuffle. You remember her pulling them up to her hips to show herself to you. “What do you have to confess, child?” 

“I can’t stop thinking about the other day,” you admit. “I even gave in and tried to touch myself like how you showed me, but I couldn’t get to that thing at the end. Like last time.”

You think you can hear her smirking. “You couldn’t orgasm? Poor thing, you must be so hot and bothered.” 

You squirm, not even trying to hide it. You’ve been so needy the past few days and you don’t know what to do. “I need help to get rid of these thoughts. I’ve tried praying and I did all the Hail Mary’s you said to but I feel like I’m still being corrupted. You said that you could help.” Your voice comes out whinier than intended but you don’t care. 

“I can help, my child. Why don’t you come back over here?”

This time, you need no extra convincing. You slide into her booth, sinking down to your knees already. You hear a sharp intake of air from her and she reaches out to brush your hair out of her face. 

“What do you want?” She asks and your eyes are pleading as they look up at her from the floor. 

“I want you to cleanse me of these thoughts,” you beg. This is a sin, you know that, and you don’t want to go to Hell. You’ll do anything to stop this heat inside you. 

Father Agatha tilts her head to the side to think about what she can do. “I don’t know if I can cleanse them entirely,” she says finally and you want to cry. “But I can quench them for now.” 

“How?” You ask, barely above a whisper. 

You hold your breath when she begins to pull up her robes again and reaches down to pull something out from the fabric between her legs. Your mouth falls open. You’re not sure what it is, but it’s long, thick, and purple. She grabs ahold of the base close to her skin and shakes it a little. 

“What is that?” It both terrifies you and makes the throbbing inside you a little worse. 

“Have you ever seen a penis?” She asks bluntly and your ears burn. 

“Of course not! I’m not married! But that’s not–” You know that she doesn’t have one, you saw her pussy last time. And you at least know that they’re not purple. 

She chuckles and spits down onto the thing, using her hand to spread the saliva over it. Your body betrays you and your breathing quickens. What is happening to you?

“No, this isn’t a penis,” she agrees. “It’s a special toy that has been blessed by God. If you orgasm around this, it will stop those thoughts.” 

You bite your lip, staring at the toy. “How is it supposed to fit inside me? It’s so big.” Her grin grows wider if possible. 

“We’ll make it fit,” she promises but it does little to quell the fear. 

“Will it hurt?” You ask timidly. 

Father Agatha tilts her from side to side. “Maybe a little. You’ll just have to get yourself ready.” Before you can ask how, she answers. “It will help if you stretch yourself out on your fingers first.”

Your mouth drops open. Last time was the first time you’d ever touched down there and you had just rubbed your clit over your underwear. The past three days, you had only also done that and tried to move against your pillow, no skin-on-skin contact. And now she wants you to put a finger inside?

“Is that even allowed?” You ask hushedly. “Isn’t that a sin?” 

She finally stops stroking the toy and reaches the hand out to cup your cheek. You can feel the stickiness on her palm and the sudden urge to lick it flits through your mind. 

You seriously need help. 

“Why don’t you let me do it, then? My hands are tools of the Lord. Nothing more holier. Let me help you.” 

You nod slowly and she smirks, patting her thighs. You get up from your knees, wincing at the soreness, and sit on her lap again, the ache inside you only growing worse from being this close. 

The toy is laying against your stomach and it’s a soft, spongy texture. It feels weird but you can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like inside you. 

Father Agatha’s hand slides under the skirt you’re wearing to touch you over your underwear and your hips jump. It’s a very different feeling than your own. 

She groans as she moves her fingers up and down, pressing the fabric against you, and you can feel how soaked it is. 

“Father,” you gasp out when she rubs at your clit. The sensation is so very new and feels so very good. You want her to keep doing it. 

“You’re such a special girl,” Father Agatha coos. “So pure, so innocent. Such a devout follower.”

You wonder if this is how the Virgin Mary felt when the angel came down to tell her that God had hand picked her. 

Or how Jesus felt when he was tempted by the Devil in the desert during those forty days. 

She slides your underwear to the side and you think you’ve died and gone to heaven when her bare hand cups you. 

Your head falls back and you let out a long moan. She traces up and down, collecting your wetness, and swirling it against your clit. You clutch onto her shoulders like she's a lifeline. 

You can’t believe you’ve never done this before. 

“Feels good, angel?” She asks, her voice husky. You nod desperately, but tense when she probes a fingertip at your hole. “Just relax.” 

You try to and you take a deep breath, but when she begins to push in, you clench so tightly you’re worried it’s going to hurt her finger. 

“It’s okay,” she coaxes, thumb rubbing your clit again. That helps you loosen up, but she doesn’t move, letting you adjust. “Your tiny little pussy has never had anything in it. But we’ll get there.” 

You bite your lip and give her the go ahead. She moves an inch and you gasp. You can’t seem to let go and unwind and she frowns. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, face turning red with humiliation. 

She tuts sotfly. “It’s okay, angel. I know what it must feel like. Why don’t you say one of your prayers? It will help take your mind off this.”

You nod, meeting her eyes that look like darkness has swallowed them whole. “Our Father, who art in heaven-” 

She pushes the rest of her finger inside you and you momentarily lose the ability to speak. 

The intrusion is not unwelcome and she experimentally curls her finger, tapping onto something inside of you that makes you whimper. She smirks wickedly and does it again. 

Your hips roll. 

“Father,” you moan, and when she keeps doing it and rubs at your clit, your entire body spasms. 

“Keep going, angel,” she urges. 

It takes a lot of effort to regain your thoughts. “Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done-” She waits for you to get a few lines out before moving all the way back out and pushing back in. 

You squeal and grab onto her tighter. She gives you a look and you know what it means. She waits until you start talking again to begin moving faster. 

“On earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” 

Father Agatha pulls out of you and you groan at the emptiness but you’re quickly even more full when she pushes two fingers in. 

Your head drops forward onto her shoulder and you mewl loudly. 

“Too much, Father,” you cry. She rubs your clit frantically and doesn’t move until you slowly begin to loosen around her. Once you adjust, it feels even better and when she curls them to touch that special spot and –

– God. 

You don’t even feel bad about using the Lord’s name in vain. 

“So perfect, your tiny pussy feels so good around my fingers,” Father Agatha pants. “Never felt anything so tight. Can’t wait to fill you up with my big cock, watch you stretch around it.” 

Her filthy words make you flush but the heat inside you gets worse. Why do you find that so hot?

“Lead us not into temptation,” you start again, the irony not lost on you. It seems the priest also gets it because she twists her fingers with an evil smirk and it makes you whimper. You can feel yourself on that ledge you were on last time, the one that is an all-consuming wave of pleasure, and you’re just about to tip over. “And deliver us from evil.” 

“Amen,” Father Agatha finishes the prayer for you, swiping roughly at your clit and thrusting deeply. 

You orgasm all over her fingers and it feels even more intense than the last time. She gently keeps moving her fingers while you come down from your high and you rest your forehead against hers. Instead of feeling satisfied when she pulls them out, you only feel more empty and needy.

“Do you think you’re ready to take my special toy, angel?” She asks, moving her hand that’s wet with you up and down. You gulp and look at it. “It will feel so good, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you whisper and her smirk makes you feel things. She helps you hold yourself up while she positions the tip at your entrance after rubbing it through your folds a few times. You slide down the tiniest bit and you keen. 

If you thought her fingers were a tight fit, this is something entirely new. Father Agatha whispers sweet nothings, circling your clit again to make you less tense, and she slowly helps guide you down. 

“Oh, my God,” you moan. She is so big inside you and it’s stretching you out more than you thought possible. 

“Just Father Agatha is fine,” she remarks coyly, eyes never moving away from watching you take her in. “Angel, you’re so perfect, you’re taking my big cock so well in your tiny pussy. You look so delicious wrapped around me like that.” 

Hearing her talk about the toy like it’s actually part of her makes you grow even hotter and you finally make it to the bottom, the entire thing inside you. 

You feel so full; you think you can feel her in your ribcage. 

“Can I move?” She asks and you nod shakily. Her hands help you bounce up and down, just little movements at first, but gradually turning into sliding you to the top and then back to bottoming out. 

The burn inside you gives way to a wonderful feeling and you can feel her dragging the toy, her cock, against every ridge and groove inside you. 

Father Agatha groans when you start to take the initiative and ride without so much of her help. You’re chasing the pleasure that’s building up inside you and it’s so much better than anything you’d had before. 

“Look at you, angel, taking my big cock so well in your tiny pussy. If you weren’t such a good girl, I would’ve assumed you’ve done this before. But you’re so perfect and pure and innocent and God’s gift to the world,” she says, voice rough. “Do you like my cock?” 

You nod harder than you ever have in your life. “Feels so good, Father. This can’t be a sin.” 

Father Agatha shakes her head. “It’s not, angel. Anytime you feel that heat inside you and you think those dirty thoughts, come to me and I’ll help you. It’s not a sin if you’re with a priest.” 

She begins slamming her hips up into you as you drive down to meet her thrusts. She rubs your clit even harder now and you completely convulse all over the toy, the pleasure crashing through you so much more greatly than even before, clenched around her fingers. 

You feel like King Solomon, chasing after true gratification, but unlike him whose search is futile, you’ve found it in the arms of a priest. 

You slump against her, who softly strokes your back while you regain your strength. 

“How do you feel now?” She asks. “Are those dirty thoughts you were having gone?” 

You shift and wince at the toy still inside you. She lifts you up so it can slip out. You feel thoroughly ruined and you just want to take a nap. No more heat in you at all. “Yes, they are, Father. Thank you.” 

She pats your thighs and you stand up, blood rushing back to your stiff legs. 

“Glad I could help, child. It’s my duty as a priest to help you strengthen your relationship with God, and if this is what it takes with you, I’m more than willing to do it whenever you need.”

You run a hand through your hair and think about it. “We might need to do this a few more times,” you admit. You still don’t know how to take care of the problem yourself, and like she said, it’s okay if it’s with a priest. 

She smirks like the Devil incarnate. “I look forward to it.” 

[cainesrain]

god is a woman | mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle | smut | wc: 1155

summary: you wear a special dress for mattheo warnings: sexual content (obviously), fingering, oral (receiving), semi-public sex (semi-private party balcony), cumming in pants

Mattheo was running around Lorenzo's birthday party like a rabid dog given cocaine—wandering aimlessly left and right as his legs carried him closer and closer to the back door.

The back door that you had just walked out of.

Never in his life had Mattheo truly believed in religion. His father was the Wizarding World’s idealized version of Satan, and living with the man every day of your life until you went to Hogwarts did quite a number on religious pursuits. Yet, as Mattheo found himself following you outside of the party and towards the balcony, he found himself believing in God again for just a moment. 

You were wearing a red dress that clung to your body like wet wine—the satin fabric splitting at the top of your thigh and dropping down to the floor in a pile of ruffles. The dress was showing off your figure entirely, so much so that Mattheo wanted to do nothing more than squeeze each part of your body to make sure that you were real.

“You stare a lot, Riddle.” you giggled softly, looking over your shoulder at him.

Mattheo scoffed and walked closer, wrapping his hands around your waist. “You can’t blame me.” he murmured quietly as he pressed kiss after kiss to your shoulders.  “You look divine, cara mia.”

“Pansy said this dress would rile you up.” you murmured with a smile, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck. His eyes glanced down to the jewelry wrapping around your neck, a necklace that he had bought you with a small locket only he had the key too.

Mattheo was sure that the word ‘perfect’ wouldn’t even begin to describe you. 

“It definitely did.” he chuckled quietly, kissing your cheek and nose lovingly. “I felt like I died seeing you walk into the party, you know that?”

You giggled as you turned around to face him, kissing the tip of his nose before looking over at the rest of the party. It was supposed to be a birthday party for Lorenzo—he had gained quite a lot of different friend groups since you all left Hogwarts, so he decided to hold the party at the Malfoy Manor. You had realized that said manor had quite a couple of blind spots. Spots hidden away from the public eye, with charms preventing others from looking into certain places.

“What’re you thinking about, princess?” he asked you curiously, resting his chin against your shoulder. 

You chuckled . “Where the nearest blind spot is and how can we get there?”

“That bush by the door.” he murmured quietly. “There’s a space behind it.”

“Did you know that my dress is rather flexible?” you asked him curiously, raising one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist. “Stretches rather far too.”

Mattheo groaned out loud at that before pulling you into a kiss—tongue and teeth clashing together with the taste of whiskey running down your throat. He had always treated you like one of his favorite drugs, always consuming you wholeheartedly like a fiend finally finding his stash.

You giggled quietly as you guided him to the area behind the bush, letting your back hit the wall as his arms trapped you against his body. “What do you want to do?” you asked him curiously.

“Idealistically, I want to eat you alive.” Mattheo groaned out lowly, his teeth grazing your pulse but not biting down. “But that would probably kill you, so I’m stuck with just eating you out.”

“Kinky.” you chuckled quietly—a small moan escaping your mouth as Mattheo’s fingers dug into the band of your thong and pulled it down as he kneeled on the ground. “Jesus, Matty.”

Mattheo hummed quietly before burying his face between your thighs, lips and tongue slowly dragging up and down your thighs. “You were saying?”

“I said that’s kinky.” you moaned out. Your body shuddered as his mouth found its way to your pussy. His tongue wrapped itself around his clit before you could gather any other words out of your throat—your hand moving to cover your mouth as he slowly rubbed it in circles. His hand moved up your legs and towards your weeping cunt, fingers slowly dipping into your warmth and moving in and out.

“Matty—” you moaned out. Your lip was bleeding slightly from biting it so hard, though moans still came out of your mouth. “Matty, please—”

“Cara mia,” he groaned out, tongue flitting over to lick near where his fingers were inside of you. “You taste so good. I could eat you out forever.”

Your jaw fell slack as you looked down at where he was between your legs—brown eyes looking up at you like melted chocolate pouring onto one’s tongue. You could feel his fingers moving inside of you still, hitting a sweet spot inside of you that only he had ever been able to reach. “Mattheo—”

“Keep begging for me, princess.” he whispered, looking up at you as he kissed your clit before focusing fully. His fingers sped up slightly as they moved in and out of your pussy, small kissing and sucking noises coming from where his mouth was. You could feel your legs shaking slightly at how sensitive your body was becoming. “You sound so pretty, moaning like that for me.”

You whimpered quietly as the embers in your stomach grew closer and closer to a pitch fire, an unbridled moan escaping your mouth as you rose to your peak. “Mattheo—” you whimpered out, hands moving to his hair and pulling slightly. “Matty, I’m gonna cum—”

He chuckled quietly and kissed your clit teasingly—his thumb replacing his tongue while his tongue moved to fuck your pussy. “Cum for me, cara mia.” he murmured seductively, thrusting his tongue in and out of your cunt and lapping up every everything that he could. “Come on, cum for me. You can do that, can’t you? I want you too, quiero probarte.”

You moaned out as soon as he spoke that, slick rushing down his throat and on his face. “Matty—” 

“Thank you, amorcito.” he whispered quietly—continuing to kiss you again and again until you pulled him away from your cunt. 

“No more,” you whispered. “Sensitive.”

He nodded quietly and wiped his mouth clean, grabbing a handkerchief and cleaning you up. “This is probably one of my favorite dresses.” he chuckled quietly to you. 

“What about you?” you asked him confusedly, looking down near his crotch. “Do you need—”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” he murmured quietly as he stood up. “I’ll be fine.”

You furrowed your brows as you looked at him. “Matty—”

“I may have already,” he murmured quietly, clearing his throat quietly before adjusting his pants. “Maybe we should go to the bathroom.”

You looked down at the large wet splotch on his pants before laughing quietly, leaning into him as he buried his nose against your neck in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m definitely wearing this dress again.” you giggled quietly to him. 

thank you so much for reading! this is my second smut that i've written, so it's still probably not that good, especially because i haven't practiced it much—but i had this idea and really really wanted to write it. so, here we go! if you want more fluffy content as well, you can check out my main writing blog over here <3

© cainesrain 2025. do not copy, translate or claim any of my works as your own. reblogs + comments are so very appreciated! have a lovely day, love!

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

AO3 LINK TWO

ONE

How tedious human life is. Not to offend anyone, but you were already tired of all the petty, complicated, and disjointed problems humans have. Not doing what they want, fearing consequences, and not always seeking to take advantage of others makes humans seem so weak. Humans need automobiles to move around, they have no special powers, they feel guilty for the slightest act, and when they sin, they believe a priest can purify their wrongdoings.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. At least that's what the movies say I should say when I enter a confessional. Unless you'd prefer something more modern, like, 'Father, I really messed up. I committed an affront to good morals. Blah blah blah…'" You enter Father Charlie Mayhew's confessional, waiting for his response. You can hear the muffled chuckle he lets out at your casual way of speaking.

"It doesn't seem to me that you are truly repentant. Taking advantage of the informality with which you are speaking to me, may I ask what brings you here?" For a human, he has a voice that, in its more serious and deep tone, can be charming; it's easy to understand why he became a priest. With a voice like that, he could easily persuade you to be a devoted daughter of God, even if you were, in truth, a demon.

“Let’s say it was a call of nature. In truth, I’ve felt impure ever since I witnessed something terrible.” You say, trying to sound as human as possible, feeling as if your skin were burning from being inside the church. Just kidding; in reality, demons can be anywhere, even in religious places.

"What is it, my dear faithful of the Lord, that you witnessed?" Father Mayhew speaks with a certain nonchalance, as if he's almost sure he knows your answer. You try to catch a glimpse of him through the confessional booth’s small openings. He seems like the very embodiment of sin, perfectly crafted for thirsty thoughts.

"Father, I witnessed a delightful scene. It was a priest known for his youthful appearance and modern style, masturbating while thinking about the beautiful nun he had recently met. In fact, there was another moment that I witnessed. The moment when this same priest let the nun touch him in a sinful way. Oh, this priest's mind could only hope that these private moments would continue." You provoke him, subtly revealing that you know of his most intimate sins. The priest immediately steps out of his booth and opens the door to yours. His expression is furious, while you wear your most mischievous smile. Your attire catches him off guard, certainly. You’re dressed in a nun's habit, but entirely unlike the usual. Yours is red—the color of blood—with black lace details. It is the perfect blend of religion and sin, a nun’s habit styled like lingerie.

"What are you?" the priest asks, not in fear, but with a steady gaze fixed on you. You rise and slowly walk toward him, your steps deliberate, as he retreats. You can see his eyes searching for answers, trying to comprehend what you are.

"I am merely a concerned devotee, worried about who is managing this church, of course. Father, it shouldn’t be me reminding you that sin is wrong. But I think you already know it’s wrong—you just can’t stop. If the wounds on your back tell me anything, it’s that you enjoy punishing yourself for being a naughty boy. Let’s just say I’m your newest form of penance." You speak as you circle around Father Mayhew, who watches you with a gaze of fascination. In truth, you had peeked into the mortal priest’s sinful mind, discovering exactly how to become an irresistible vision for him.

"Why are you tormenting me?" Father Mayhew keeps his eyes fixed on you as you walk through the church, surveying what is supposed to be sacred ground. It’s remarkable, entering the so-called house of God, where sins lurk behind the angelic façade, just as Father Mayhew hides his dark thoughts beneath his cassock. You smile as your fingers glide over the candles, feeling the warmth of their flames between your fingertips.

"Me? Tormenting you? I’m simply fascinated by that devilishly handsome face of yours and the way you blend love for religion with the lust locked away inside you. Sister Megan must have had quite the time running her little fingers over you. Honestly, you, Father, are trouble, and I want to help you." You speak, captivated by the lust in his eyes, even as he remains partly afraid that you might be a punishment from the devil himself. You move closer, touching his cassock, tracing your finger over the places where he is wounded, where he hurt himself.

"More…" he whispers, closing his eyes as he feels your touch. He begins to moan softly from the pain you’re inflicting. Your fingers tighten their grip on the bruises on his back as he groans heavily. You bring your lips closer to the back of his neck, placing a few kisses there.

"Father, Father, Father. You're visibly excited in the middle of the church. What would the Bishop say about this? Or your faithful and devoted followers, who trust that their priest will be the purest of men?" You speak softly against the back of his neck, feeling him shiver. He turns to look at you, eyes thirsty for the pleasure of the flesh.

"It doesn’t matter, not really. 1 John 1:9, 'If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.' God, in His glory, will understand that in the face of temptation, I could not resist my sinful nature, and for that, I have failed in His eyes." Father Mayhew speaks, his eyes lingering on every detail of your face, but especially your lips. In his depraved mind, he’s already imagining. Imagining how his cock would fit perfectly between your lips, or how your moans must be as delicious as the tone of your voice. He lets his imagination of touching you, tasting you take over and lightly places his fingers under your lips, massaging them.

"Father, you are a perfect creature, but you are trapped beneath this mask of a devout religious man. I promise I will return here to unlock your true potential. Until then, remain under the flame of lust. Oh, and keep recording those workout videos; you have no idea how many souls your face and body corrupt. Now, to seal our first encounter together, repeat after me: I, Father Charlie Mayhew, accept your demonic presence to torment me for as long as necessary, committing myself to serve you." You say, gazing deeply into his eyes, as he seems lost in you. It takes him a moment to repeat your words, his eyes lingering on your attire, contemplating the implications of becoming entangled with you.

"Was that all?" He asks after repeating your words, his tone low as if he’s embarrassed. "When will I see you again?" There’s a note of desperation in Father Mayhew's question, as he watches you, trying to memorize every detail. You smile, thinking that he probably wants to remember you so he can indulge in pleasure later.

"You'll see me when the time is right. In the meantime, keep being a naughty boy," you say, caressing his face. Then, with a single finger, you touch his lips, slicing them open. He lets out a soft moan as blood begins to seep from his mouth. "Now it's time for my triumphant exit. Goodbye, Father," you say, leaning in to kiss him, as if to draw his very soul through his lips. The taste of his blood lingers in your mouth, sealing the recent pact between you. You lick his lips and then disappear. Like an illusion, you are no longer there.

[gatheringbones]

[“Feeling empowered is a group effort, because in order to be able to assert yourself, you must feel safe enough to do so. A date once told me that when he teaches yoga, he declares that backbend rules are orgy rules: a maybe is a no. I like that because in both an orgy and yoga, you’re in a heightened and strange state. You’re already pushing past a lot of standards for what your body and consciousness can ordinarily do.

Yoga teaches you to be aware of and listen to subtle body messages. Pushing too hard can result in injury, which will limit you from sustainably being able to enjoy the activity long term. So if your body tells you, “I’m not sure how this backbend is feeling right now,” just don’t do the backbend. And if someone at the orgy says, “I’m not sure if I want to play with you right now,” move on with grace. There are so many other poses you can try.

Buffet was a queer play party I went to a couple of times in 2018 at a legendary Brooklyn performance art space known at different times as the Spectrum and then the Dreamhouse. Their rules were printed out and posted in the foyer where you waited in line before taking off your street clothes. They explained they had dungeon monitors (DMs) wearing pink glowing bracelets. DMs are present less as rule enforcers and more as community accountability figures. The hosts were clear about what kind of play was prohibited (race, scat, guns), the kind of play that required a DM’s permission so they could keep a close eye on psychological intensity and mess (blood, piss, food, CNC, self-suspension, gags).

Buffet had a great breakdown of what consent meant in their space: “Do not stalk, lurk, stare, follow, badger, pressure, or touch anyone without permission.” They also had a very specific anti-oppression stance: “If you perpetuate oppression based on gender identity or expression, race or ethnicity, ability, HIV or STI status, body type, sexual or BDSM orientation, religion or spiritual path, you’ll be thrown out without a refund. (However, if you come to us crying about reverse racism or misandry, we *will* laugh in your face.)”

I loved Buffet’s gender policy. Many women- and trans-focused play parties simply exclude cis men in the interest of creating a “safe space.” While a private party can have whatever policies they want, I personally think excluding one type of person is a mistake. You cannot have any clue how many abusers are around you, how many dysfunctional relationships, how many people being petty or shallow or anything you would disagree with or disapprove of. And when we exclude men from spaces where revolutionary communication is being practiced, they’re not learning how to do it right.

Buffet had an ingenious approach to this issue. Their policy was all-gender, but cis men had to pay $100 entry as opposed to much smaller fees paid by others, and were given a mandatory dress code of underwear, fetish gear, or femme drag. The hosts also provided the chance to be vetted on a “Good Judy list” to waive the $100 fee. The result was discouragement of interloping creeps while embracing the kinds of men who would contribute to the party’s unique atmosphere and people who appreciate having those men around either to play with or as friendly allies. Anyone prepared to go through these humbling paces is more likely to be the kind of guy the other attendees would be happy to have there.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

[estcaligo]

Sebek's Opinions on Popular Partner Nicknames or Why He Refuses to Call You That + What Nicknames He Would Use

*Sebek x reader *Romantic *A few slightly suggestive parts

After you and Sebek started dating, Lilia mentioned that he sent Sebek a link to a list of modern nicknames for couples. Later, you ask Sebek what he thinks of them.

What he thinks of popular nicknames

[Princess] "While I love you dearly and have sworn to serve and protect you, you are neither of noble blood nor a member of any royal family! Calling you this would only lead to unnecessary confusion!"

[Kitten] "You are a human, not an animal! Not even a beastman. Why would I call you such a thing?"

[Baby] "You are not an infant. Is this your childish attitude slipping through again? Get yourself together, human!"

[Boo] "…Pardon? Are you attempting to frighten me?"

[Sugar] "Sugar is a type of food. Are you suggesting I devour you? What? You… you do? W-Wait—"

[Honey] "You're still talking about food?! Grr… your incessant rambling has stirred my appetite! This is your fault, human! Now you're coming with me. We're going out to eat - NOW!"

[Angel] "I've read about these supernatural beings in overseas religions, but you possess no features that resemble them. You are a magicless human! Enough with this nonsense!"

[Doll] "You are a human being- a weak human, I might remind you! Dolls are lifeless and purposeless objects… If anything, you're far from lifeless. Quite the contrary - it's too lively whenever you're around!"

[Pookie] "You suggest I call you the same name my sister used for her stuffed toys? Have you no self-respect?!"

What he would call you

Sebek isn't the kind of guy to use overly sentimental terms, but if he wants to express his love and admiration, he'd choose something straightforward yet heartfelt. He loves you a lot, after all.

[My Love] Simple and elegant. Timeless classics.

[Darling] Would use in private moments, probably in an unusually quiet voice. But I think it'll also work for a daily life.

[My Dearest Heart] Would say this when overflowed with emotions. Hugging you tight after a long period of not seeing each other, or kissing goodbye.

[Beloved] This carries a note of respect, so he wouldn't hesitate to use this in public or when talking about you (later, he still needs to get used to it). Overall, calls you "beloved one" in daily life.

[Sweet Companion] He values loyalty and appreciates the fact that you've chosen to walk beside him in life, despite the challenges you'll face. He is proud to call you that, with both affection and appreciation.

[My Fair One] Read this in one of his many books and thought it suits you perfectly - to admire your grace, beauty, and strength. Unintentionally says it when he sees you in some cute outfits. Or when you're triumphing after some achievement - he (secretly) thinks you look most radiant in those moments.

[My Heart's Desire] Alongside his desire to serve Waka-sama, of course. But he means it. You're now one of his objects of admiration and dreams. He uses this when he misses you or is a little desperate for intimacy (hug him or kiss him asap!!).

[Fire of My Loins] When his passion is stirred, this one might slip out. Uses it in most intimate moments.

[ (My) Human ] Forever and always. A nostalgic reference to where it all began - when you were just his "human" in the most innocent of ways.

[ancientcharm]

 'I am no king, but Caesar'

Gaius Julius Caesar was born on July 12, 100 BC in the Suburra, a populous neighborhood of Rome, to a patrician family although in economic decline. In Gens Iulia, those who had the surname Caesar descended, according to the account of Pliny the Elder, from a man who was born after a Caesarean section (from the Latin verb "to cut", caedo, -ĕre, caesus sum). He was born in a Republic in crisis and the aristocracy divided into two warring factions: The optimates and populares. He lost his father when he was about 14 years old; he was greatly influenced by his maternal uncle Gaius Marius. Caesar had an older sister, Julia Major, and a younger sister Julia Minor (maternal grandmother of Emperor Augustus). His uncle, Gaius Marius, was the leader of the Populares ("supporters of the people") and rival of Lucius Cornelius Sulla, leader of the Optimates ( "best ones")

In 84 BC Lucius Cornelius Cinna, an ally of Gaius Marius, chose the 16 year old Caesar to be flamen Dialis (priest of Jupiter) and married him to his 13 year old daughter Cornelia with whom Caesar had a daughter named Julia. It is not certain whether the girl was born a few months before or after the teen Caesar had fled Rome or, more likely according to historians, she was born when he returned years later and was reunited with his wife.

Following the suicide of Gaius Marius in 86 BC, Cinna, one of the leaders of the Populares, became sole ruler of Rome and most of the provinces while persecuting Sulla's followers. In 84 Cinna was assassinated and populares defeated.

Due of his ties to the Cinna family, Sulla attempted to force Caesar to divorce Cornelia if he wanted to live in peace, but Caesar refused. Sulla confiscated his property, and he was forced to leave Rome. Populares supporters and Caesar's own mother pressured Sulla to allow him to return, claiming that he was not dangerous as he was just an adolescent. Sulla refused and said "I see several Marius in him" referring to his archrival Gaius Marius, Caesar's uncle.

Shortly afterwards, although he was allowed to return to Rome, Caesar decided to head to Asia to participate in the war against Mithridates VI of Pontus. There he distinguished himself in the capture of Mytilene. He then headed to Bithynia, a kingdom allied to Rome, where he spent some time.

In addition to being a politician and a soldier, Julius Caesar was a writer. Among others, his works were a treatise on astronomy, another on Roman religion, a study on Latin and his comments on the war in Gaul and the Civil War; only his writings on those two wars have not been lost.

In the year 78 after Sulla's death from natural causes, Caesar decided finally to return to Rome. He was reunited with his wife Cornelia, who had waited patiently for him. Nine years later, Cornelia- the only woman he truly loved, according to all accounts- died at the age of 28. Caesar went into deep mourning and gave a solemn speech.

After serving as quaestor in the Hispania Ulterior province where he increased his network of clients - patronage was key to success in Roman politics - Caesar returned to Rome in 69 BC where he served as Aedile; he carried out building programs and offered the largest gladiatorial games seen until then. This left him almost bankrupt. In 60 BC he decided to make a private agreement with the prestigious general Pompey the Great and one of the richest man, Marcus Licinius Crassus. Pompey had just put an end to the pirate problem and years earlier, together with Crassus, he had defeated the slave rebellion led by Spartacus.

Pompey and Crassus were hampered in many of their ambitions by the Optimates in the Senate. Caesar, knowing this, approached them to put together an unofficial coalition - known to history as the Triumvirate - if they made him Consul, he would see to it that laws were passed that would benefit them. To further consolidate this alliance, in the year 59 BC Caesar married Pompey to Julia. Although this was a typical political marriage, classical sources state that Julia truly loved Pompey and he loved her.

Pompey and Crassus decided to ally themselves with Caesar and the populares in order to gain more offices and wealth. In this way, the three took full control of Rome. In 59 Caesar was appointed consul.

Laws were passed granting the province of Syria to Crassus. Laws were passed distributing lands among Pompey's veterans. And at his own request, the Gallic provinces-both the pacified and the "wild" ones- were handed over to Caesar. Cicero, a true defender of the Republic, was exiled due his bold speeches against the Triumvirate, which he called a "three-headed monster" but was allowed to return the following year. The passage of the laws favoring the triumvirs was ensured by introducing veteran legionaries of Pompey into the meetings of the Senate.

Also in 59 BC Caesar established a military camp in the Arno valley, on the Via Cassi, the main communication route between Rome and the north of the country. He called the camp Florentia, which means "flowering." The camp quickly became an important commercial town. Today it is the beautiful Italian city Florence.

In Gaul with his legions, he defeated and subdued several peoples in just a few years. Caesar wrote in detail about this conquest in his Bellum Gallicum (Gallic War). Believing that everything was under control, he headed to the mysterious land that the Romans called Britannia and where they believed the world ended. The Gallic War was between 58-52 BC

Caesar finally arrived in Britain for the first time in the summer of 55 landing with two legions. The following year he arrived with 800 ships, five legions and 2,000 cavalry. Caesar's comments on this war constitute the first written descriptions of the people, culture and geography of the island.

Although Caesar not conquered Britania (it was conquered under the Emperor Claudius) this campaign it established Rome's first allied peoples in Britain.

While in Britania, Caesar received the news that his daughter and the baby she was expecting had died in childbirth.

At the same time he had no idea that a genuine leader named Vercingetorix, of the Arverni tribe, had managed to unite all the Gallic peoples under his authority, determined to expel the Romans

Caesar himself called him "King of all the Gauls"

The most famous and final battle was that of Alesia. Although Vercingetorix was a great warrior, he could do nothing against the genius (sometimes bordering on madness) of Caesar and his legionaries. According to Caesar, Vercingetorix, seeing that if he continued he would starve his entire people to death due to the siege, rode towards the Roman camp, dismounted, took off his sword and sat on the ground without saying a word. He decided to surrender in exchange for his people living. And so it happened, Vercingetorix was taken prisoner but his men were not executed. But Caesar had to wait years for his triumph -and Vercingetorix had to wait as a prisoner in Rome, before his execution- because while Caesar was fighting against the Gauls, many Roman senators were plotting his downfall.

Everything Caesar wrote about his battles and conquests, written in the third person, was copied and sent to be read publicly in Rome, which was celebrated by the plebs and Caesar 's supporters. True republicans such as Cato, Cicero, Cassius, and Brutus perceived a real danger to the Republic. The Triumvir Crassus was killed by Parthians in his failed attempt to conquer Parthia: The triumvirate was over and Pompey, who had become Sole Consul saw in Caesar a dangerous rival, and allied himself with the Optimates again.

They created a new law: the office of consul or proconsul could no longer be held in absentia, as well as running for those offices outside of Rome. Thus, Caesar, far from Rome, lost the protection of the law that granted him his magistracy—just as today, the President of a nation cannot be prosecuted while in office—and could no longer run for election as consul or proconsul. Clearly, the idea was to put him on trial and send him, hopefully, into exile, since thanks to this law, he instantly became an ordinary citizen.

Upon receiving this news, Caesar was enraged and decided to return to Rome not as a citizen, but as a general commanding his legionaries, who followed him devotedly. He would later say, "I never wanted this war, but my adversaries have eagerly sought it."

No legion was to reach Rome by crossing the Rubicon River; such an action meant civil war.. Caesar crossed the Rubicon with his XIII legion and proclaimed a very popular phrase in Ancient Rome that players always said before throwing the dice: "Alea Iacta Est" (the die is cast). This is known thanks to Roman historians who took as a source the writings of Gaius Asinius Pollio, who was close to Caesar and could have heard him. This saying became legendary even for the ancient Romans due to the surprising idea of ​​using this phrase from a game in the context of a war.

Pompey and his legionaries left Rome and prepared for the war in Greece. In September of 48 Pompey was defeated at the Battle of Pharsalus. But he did not give up and headed to Egypt to seek the support of the young king Ptolemy XIII. Egypt was then a vassal kingdom of Rome due to its years of indebtedness, and the creditor was precisely Pompey, who had lent huge sums to Ptolemy XII. But as soon as he landed in Egypt, he was met by a group of men who, in the name of the young king, beheaded him and took his ring.

Fun fact: Among those who fought alongside Pompey against Caesar was the centurion Titus Flavius ​​Petro, who after the defeat at Pharsalus was pardoned by Caesar and returned home; he was the grandfather of Titus Flavius ​​Vespasian, the emperor who replaced the Julio-Claudian dynasty with his own Flavian dynasty in 69 AD.

While Cato the Younger and his men went to the province of Africa to continue the resistance, and Pompey's sons did the same in Hispania. Caesar went looking for Pompey to try to come to an agreement.

'Julius Caesar’s Dismay Upon Seeing The Head Of Pompey' (detail) By Louis-Jean-François Lagrenée (18th century)

King Ptolemy XIII, who was engaged in his own war with his sister Cleopatra for the throne, thought that by killing Pompey and giving his head and ring as a gift he would earn Caesar's gratitude and thus his kingdom would settle the unpayable debt it owed Rome. But Caesar was enraged by the undignified manner in which a Roman general and consul had been murdered and decided to side with Cleopatra and her allies.

The meeting between Cleopatra VII and Caesar at night and she entered hidden inside a huge rolled-up carpet carried by his slaves. Cleopatra was one of the many lovers that he had, they lived together and had a son, nicknamed Caesarion (little Caesar) whom he recognized but not legally. While Republican forces continued to resist, Caesar was immersed in the war between Ptolemy XIII, Cleopatra and the other sister, Arsinoe IV. Caesar's troops, together with those of Cleopatra plus Caesar's allies such as Mithridates of Pergamon and his army and a Jewish armed force led by Antipater finally won that war in January 47 and Cleopatra kept the throne of Egypt.

The Death of Cato of Utica, By Jean-Paul Laurens.

In early 46 BC, Caesar defeated the army of Cato the Younger, also known as Cato of Utica . Cato did not take part in the battle and being in Utica, Africa, after receiving the news that Caesar had won and pardoned his adversaries, decided to take his own life at the age of 49. Cato had a republican soul but was stubborn man, and was convinced that Caesar wanted to be king. He was the half-brother of Brutus's mother, Servilla (Caesar's long-time lover).

It was in this same year that Caesar, with the advice of the astronomer Sosigenes of Alexandria, reformed the calendar, leaving each month with the same number of days as it has today and creating the leap year.

The final battle of Munda, in Hispania, was on March 17, 45 BC, thus ending the civil war. Caesar returned to Rome and an intimidated Senate legitimized his victory by appointing him dictator for a ten-year term.

The position of Dictator was created by the Republic itself; he was a magistrate, elected by the Senate, with absolute powers to resolve military emergencies or exceptional tasks for a period of six months. He had to leave after that period or before if he managed to resolve the problem. This 10-year dictatorship was unprecedented.

In February 44 BC, Caesar succeeded in having the people of Rome proclaim him dictator for life. Cicero resigned from political life in protest.

Cassius persuaded Brutus that the only way to save the Republic was to kill Caesar. They needed Brutus to lead the conspiracy because of his prestige; he was not only Cato's nephew but also the direct descendant of the Republic's founding father.

The Death of Caesar. By Vincenzo Camuccini (1805)

On 15 March 44 BC the group of conspirators intercepted Caesar just as he was passing the Theatre of Pompey, where the Roman Curia was meeting, and led him into a room off the portico. Lucius Tillius Cimber, under the pretext of presenting a petition, grabbed Caesar's toga with both hands and pulled him so tha Publius Servilius Casca could stab him, causing Caesar to exclaim "Ista quidem vis est?" ("What kind of violence is this?") Casca, drawing a dagger, slashed him across the neck. "What are you doing, Casca, you villain?" were perhaps his last words.

According to classical sources, he tried to flee but slipped on his own blood. A Roman coroner stated that "Caesar's body had several cuts, and 23 stab wounds but only one of them, in the chest, was fatal." They also claim that as he lay dying he took his toga and covered his face so that no one would see him die. He was 55 years old.

Mark Antony with other colleagues carefully collected the body and carried it before the people. Then he made a memorable speech.

The month then called Quintilis, the month of Caesar's birth, was renamed Iulius (July) in his honour on the initiative of Mark Antony. Julius Caesar was the last dictator of Rome; the office was abolished after his death.

Caesar named his grandnephew Gaius Octavius ​​Thurinus as sole heir and adopted son, taking the name Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus. As was customary in this type of adoption, he had the name of his maternal relative and since then he legally belonged to the family clan, in this case the Julii, adding to his new name the original paternal lineage: Octavianus ( "of the Octavii").

A good example to understand this is the father of Empress Livia, who was born with the name Appius Claudius Pulcher and who, upon being adopted by his maternal uncle Marcus Livius Drusus, changed his name to Marcus Livius Drusus Claudianus.

But nowhere in Caesar will did he say that his nephew should be his successor in office. It was very common among Roman aristocrats without sons to adopt a nephew, son of a sister or niece, or a grandson through a daughter if the father had already died, to continue the surname or clan name (nomen gentile).

If he legally recognized Caesarion, the boy would become a Roman citizen, and it would be a serious problem if the king of Egypt were Roman, as he could claim a throne in Rome. This shows that Caesar did not intend to establish a monarchy and was genuinely concerned about his fatherland.

Octavius certainly benefited from the adoption, but he became the Emperor of Rome thanks to his iron will, extraordinary cunning and political skill.

After his death, Caesar was proclaimed Divus Iulius, or the Divine Julius. He was the first Roman ruler to be deified.

After the end of the Julio-Claudian Dynasty, the cognomen CAESAR would become a Title of the Imperial Power, even many centuries later translated into other languages, such as the German Kaiser or the Russian Tsar.

In front of the theatre, an altar was erected where the pyre was placed so that Julius Caesar's body could be cremated in great mourning. Part of this altar is still preserved in the ruins; more than two thousand years after the assassination, every 15th of March, people come to leave flowers there.

Photo by Giovanni Dall'Orto, taken on March 15, 2008 Attribution, via Wikimedia Commons

[666soulz]

rapper!connie first run in with fashionvlogger!reader was…interesting. you answered a question from a fan on twitter who asked if you could style one rapper who would it be? you replied saying, ‘connie springer, his music don’t match his style. he dressing like a regular hood nigga when he should be dressing like a bad bitch with a dark lair. pisses me off.’

eren snorted when he seen the tweet and sent it to connie. at first he was a little offended and was about to clean you right on up, but when he saw the comments agreeing??? he had to find out why your opinion mattered so much. so the the first thing he did was tap that instagram link. 550k followers. hmm. he seen that plenty of his celebrity mutuals followed you. 

                           hollowsoul

followed by thegirljt, gunna, liluzivert and others. 

when he tapped on your pinned photo he almost drooled at your beauty, your body, and the outfit you were wearing.  you indeed had that shit on to the T. connie caught himself scrolling through your feed as his anemic ass shook ice into his mouth. you sure did have a love for all black outfits. 

he taps on that message button and types in two words. ‘style me’ 

your phone lights up as you stir around the meat in the pan. you put your glass of wine down to pick up your phone. 

instagram 

new message 

you tap on the notification and it takes you to the dm. you didn’t really have a shocked reaction, but you were surprised that he even bothered to to dm you. connie was semi private. he has moments where he’s very active on social media then he becomes a ghost. 

‘sure long as your okay with me vlogging’

connie puts his cup of ice down beside his feet warning his dog, Choppo, to not touch before replying to you. 

‘i don’t mind. you free on friday?’

   ‘i am’

ight let’s meet at the outlet mall on Lafayette @ 1 then. you mind if me, my friends, and security come?

 okay sounds good and i don’t mind at all.  see you on friday x

trust me you were less boring in person. connie was lacking in first impression as he was late to you guys shopping date. 

you didn’t mind though, you were right in dior trying on sunglasses. “how these look y’all?” you ask your camera. “i don’t know they’re kinda cunt..” you say looking in the small mirror. you didn’t even notice connie and his crew walking in and walking towards you. 

“i like them.”

you look behind you, seeing connie and his friends. connie took you in while you were distracted and you were better in person. you were in an all black outfit, of course, and you looked fucking beautiful. 

“they’re cute right?” you smile looking up at the 6’1 FINE ass dominican man. one thing that  also irritated you about connie’s style is that it doesn’t emphasize his face. connie face card was something different. He had beautiful features, hazel eyes, low lids, some pretty plump lips, and he was pulling off a buzz cut like david beckham in the 2000’s. not many people can do that. 

“yeah, sorry I was late. had to drop my sister off to her dance practice.” connie says you wave him off, “oh I'm not worried about it. it gave me time to think of what stores i want to go to.” you say taking your glasses off. “hey it’s nice to meet y’all,” you said looking at the two men behind connie. eren and ony. they weren’t a group but they put out some collab albums. those albums were heat, and was always playing when you were working out or cleaning. 

“we’re starting here by the way. can’t go wrong with dior. do you have a favorite fashion brand or designer?” you ask connie as you walked over to the men’s section. 

“uhm nike?”

“nike..? you know what i’m just..i’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that.“ you say shaking your head in disappointment. ony was laughing to himself in the background cause he could hear it in your voice. 

“what’s wrong with nike?” connie smiles as you picked up a dior sweater. “well first off all nike is a sports brand i’m talking about a fashion brand like rick owens, true religion, moschino. 

“what’s a moschino?” connie scrunches his face and he was dead serious. 

“do you know who jeremy scott is? law roach?”

“are these random white people?”

you looked at connie like he was a little lost baby, pouting your glossy lips. “aw you are so cute.” you pinch his cheek. “this is my favorite part. teaching you the ins and out of fashion.” you smile pushing an outfit into his chest. “go try this on.”

connie found out that you were a bossy little thing. if he didn’t like something, “oh well too bad you’re getting it anyways.” ony and eren enjoyed seeing him get bossed around as he was usually the demanding one in the studio. you had fun telling connie stuff about fashion and how to put together a good outfit. 

connie left that outlet with a new wardrobe, friend, and crush. a very big crush that his friends noticed. the way connie blushed like some nerdy school boy every time you’d hype him up. you noticed as well and found it absolutely adorable. 

“do that lil pose that you do. period!” 

you enjoyed Connie's presence. He was a mix between laidback and hyper. like when he got comfortable around you, he got to cracking jokes. even joking you. picking up some ugly ass cowgirl boots and saying, “this looks like something you’d like.” and you’d just give him a little playful glare telling him to not play with you. 

you left Connie with a homework assignment. learn how to use pinterest and make a pinterest board. 

[soov]

IF YOU ARE AN ENHABLR WRITER, PLEASE READ THIS.

tw : very brief mentions of pedophilia, grooming, homophobia and sexual harassment.

hi! i’m rei and i’ve been writing for enhypen since 2022 (this is my second account revamp), but i’ve been lurking around enhablr since 2021. i’ve noticed some misguided words, especially from new enhypen writers due to recent events, and decided to make this post, so please make sure to read thoroughly.

first of all, i want to painfully break it to the ones who started their accounts in 2024, who thought that enhablr was a safe space, and tell you that it is not one. it has NEVER been one.

now, i’m not saying that to make you disappointed and want to quit, but simply to tell you the truth behind it all. i think there was an illusion created around this community, behind the pretty themes and fluff works, that blinded the people who weren’t actively a part of enhablr, and had just joined us.

in 2021 we had blatant pedophilia with the 02z, brief moments after they debuted, when they were just 18. the community was still a bit messy since enha was a rookie group and fresh out of i-land.

in late 2021, and especially 2022, we began seeing enhablr take some form, but with it, we got a terrible like to reblog ratio and some plagiarism. late 2022 had more pedophilia again, now with sunoo, who had just turned 19, and had adults posting nsfw works for him on the day of his birthday. plagiarism began getting strength and many writers had both their works and banners / layouts copied.

in 2023, during the very start of the year, we had more pedophilia cases. this time, with writers. a grown man with an account named mintchocolatesunoox verbally harassed many minors with sexual asks and threats. we also had a 30yo writer named luna interacting constantly with minors and treating them in a way that crossed boundaries.

we had cases of homophobia with writers avoiding and blocking other lgbtqiap+ writers and reasoning it with their religion. not only that, but we also had another adult jumping into conclusions when a minor blocked them for being uncomfortable, saying the hate anons she was getting were from the minor, when it wasn’t. plagiarism got even worse at this time.

there were also more grown adults writing smut for jungwon when he turned 19, and at the end of the year, their target was ni-ki when the korean law changed the legal age from 19 to 18 years.

this year we had islamophobia, people refusing to acknowledge and share about the ongoing massacres and genocides around the world, more plagiarism, writers using AI to write their works with no shame, and minors consuming smut.

these are only some of the countless problems surrounding enhablr, not including the intern problems that weren’t outed.

many of these situations got worse as the conflicts began leaving tumblr and started going to other apps and group chats. i’m not saying the issue is on making friends and keeping contact outside tumblr (because i even encouraged it creating servers and such). the biggest problem is how so many people aren’t holding their friends and the ones who do these types of things accountable.

it’s not about doing it and apologizing, it’s about apologizing, changing, and holding yourself and others accountable. the memory of some people seems like one of a goldfish, completely ignoring the behavior of those who didn’t even apologize, and moving on.

enhablr was never safe, because we, writers, didn’t make it safe. the ones without morals are finding space to act like this because we are giving them space. if we do want to keep these people at bay and make enhablr a truly nice community we have to start really calling out and educating the ones who are doing and saying horrible things.

start by doing it privately, trying to educate them. if it doesn't work, call them out, no matter who they are. don’t condone their wrong actions and hold them accountable if they don’t post a pronouncement or change their behavior.

don’t let things slide and don’t think mutuals or friends shouldn’t be educated too. we are all still human and commit mistakes, but keeping practice of them is not and will never be normal.

so if you think something is off, say it, talk it out, post it. don’t let it keep happening. the change always starts from inside out.

[naomijoestar]

hii!! can we have ‘getting a hard on from their crush’ but for the stone ocean guys this time? (especially puccii <3)

if you can write it ofcc, tysm in advance—i <3 ur work sm

Masterlist here <3

I love this so much👀 I hope you enjoy this and I’m sorry for the late reply! And I’m so glad you love what I put out omg😭❤️ Also to anyone who has requested something and I haven’t replied yet dw I’m not ignoring I will be working on it when I get the time!

characters: pucci, anasui, weather report, versus, rikiel, johngalli A, jotaro 6, DIO 6

warnings: slight NSFW

Stone Ocean men getting a hard on from their crush

Enrico Pucci

You and Pucci are seated in his private study at Green Dolphin Street prison. The atmosphere is quiet and composed, the soft shuffle of papers the only sound until you stretch your arms over your head, exposing just a sliver of skin beneath your shirt

Pucci is a man of immense control—both over his emotions and his body. Yet, when you arch your back, extending your arms and giving a soft sigh of relief, his eyes betray him for just a moment. The way your body curves so naturally, with the faintest hint of skin revealed, sends a surge of unexpected heat through him

He tightens his grip on the book in his hands, lowering it to mask the way his breath hitches. His body reacts in ways that make his internal struggle flare. He feels the stirrings of desire—a reaction he knows all too well, but one he fervently resists

“You must be tired,” he says, his voice steady but his hands gripping the leather-bound book just a bit too hard. His gaze drops, betraying a flicker of something primal as he watches the smooth lines of your body relax into the stretch

You catch him staring, but it’s the tension in his face that gives him away. His mouth is a firm line, his brow slightly furrowed as if he’s silently chastising himself. His mind wrestles with his faith—he is a man of God, devoted to a higher purpose. He shouldn’t be feeling this. It’s wrong

“This… temptation,” he murmurs quietly, almost to himself, though you catch it. “It tests my faith.”

There’s a brief silence before he turns his head away, trying to regain his composure. He doesn’t move, though; his body remains stiff, his legs crossed in a way that might seem casual to you, but Pucci knows better. He’s hiding the physical reaction that he knows his religion would condemn

“I am a servant of a divine cause,” he continues, his voice low, as if reminding himself of his purpose. Yet, despite the words, his eyes glance back at you, betraying the conflict raging inside him.

Narciso Anasui

Anasui and you are sitting side by side, your legs barely touching, in a quiet corner of the prison yard. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and you’ve just kicked off your shoes, stretching your legs in front of you

Anasui watches intently, trying to act like he’s simply enjoying the scenery. But when you stretch, your legs extending, feet flexing, the fabric of your pants tightens slightly over your thighs. His breath catches as you lean back on your hands, your body arching in a way that makes his gaze linger on the curve of your waist

He’s never been shy about how he feels—he wants you, and he’s made it clear before. But now, seeing you stretch like that, casually and completely unaware of how it’s affecting him, his heart pounds harder, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. His body reacts instantly, a rush of heat pooling low in his abdomen, and he can’t stop his eyes from tracing the lines of your body

“Damn,” he mutters, his voice low but unmistakably turned on. His usual confidence falters slightly as he feels a throbbing intensity building beneath his clothes, and he casually moves a hand to cover his lap, trying to play it off

You glance at him, catching the way his eyes darken as they linger on you. Anasui quickly shoots you a crooked smile, but there’s something more heated behind it. “You’re making it really hard for me to focus right now,” he teases, though the rasp in his voice gives away just how serious he is

He leans in slightly, his shoulder brushing yours, and you can feel the tension radiating off him. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he adds, his gaze drifting from your face to your legs, then back again, his desire barely contained

Weather Report

You’re walking with Weather Report through a misty part of the prison, the air damp and heavy around you. You stop to fix your shirt, the movement causing it to ride up slightly, exposing the curve of your hip

Weather has always been composed, even detached at times, but something about the way your fingers absentmindedly tug at your clothes makes him hyper-aware of you. When your shirt rides up, revealing a hint of skin, his eyes instinctively drop to the exposed sliver, and a spark of heat ignites in his chest

He stands still, watching silently as you adjust your clothes, his pulse quickening in a way he hadn’t expected. Normally, Weather is calm, his emotions buried beneath layers of quiet. But now, with the fog swirling around the both of you, creating an almost intimate atmosphere, his body reacts in a way that surprises him

His gaze lingers on you, his mind wandering into dangerous territory. The warmth building inside him is unfamiliar but not unwelcome. His breath comes out a little heavier, and he silently curses himself for being so affected by something so small, but it’s no use

“You’re… distracting,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, the words sounding almost like they weren’t meant to be heard. He swallows, hands tightening at his sides as he tries to will his body into calming down, but his desire is like a steady pulse, growing harder to ignore.

You catch him staring, and his usually unreadable expression falters for a moment, revealing the heat behind his eyes. He glances away quickly, but the air between you feels charged now, and you both know that he’s struggling to keep himself in check

Donatello Versus

Donatello and you are hidden in a secluded part of the prison, away from prying eyes. You lean back against the wall, stretching your arms over your head, your shirt pulling tight over your chest

Donatello isn’t the type to hold back. When he sees you stretch, the way your body curves and your chest rises with the motion, he feels a jolt of arousal shoot through him instantly. His eyes darken, tracking the movement of your body, and a slow smirk spreads across his face

“You really shouldn’t do that in front of me,” he says, his voice thick with heat, clearly enjoying the effect you’re having on him. He makes no effort to hide the fact that he’s staring, his gaze dropping to your chest before meeting your eyes again with a smoldering look

His body responds immediately, and he doesn’t bother to conceal it. He steps closer, his presence dominating the space between you as he tilts his head, his smirk widening. “You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire

The tension between you is palpable, and Donatello’s arousal is obvious, the way his body presses closer to yours making it impossible to ignore. He’s not the type to hold back—if anything, the way you’ve turned him on just makes him want to push further, to see how much closer he can get

Rikiel

You and Rikiel are sitting in a dimly lit room, sharing a quiet moment. You shift your position, lifting one leg and crossing it over the other. The movement causes your shirt to rise slightly, revealing a smooth line of skin along your waist

Rikiel isn’t someone who’s used to feeling in control of his emotions. His anxiety and inner turmoil often cloud his thoughts, but right now, all he can focus on is you. The way your body moves so naturally, the way your shirt rises just enough to reveal your waist—it sends a wave of heat rushing through him

His breath catches, and he quickly glances away, his heart pounding in his chest. But his gaze keeps flicking back to you, unable to resist. He feels a stirring deep inside him, something primal that he can’t control, and it frustrates him

His body betrays him, his hands trembling slightly as he tries to keep his composure. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, crossing his legs to hide the obvious reaction forming below his belt. Rikiel can’t believe how easily you’ve gotten under his skin, how just a simple movement from you is enough to set him on fire

“I-I wasn’t staring,” he mumbles, his voice shaky and unconvincing. He’s embarrassed, his face flushing as he feels his arousal growing, but there’s also a strange excitement pulsing through him. Rikiel is torn between wanting to hide his feelings and giving in to the desire that’s building inside him

Johngalli A.

You’re at the firing range with Johngalli A., watching as he adjusts his sniper rifle. He’s focused, precise, but when you bend over slightly to pick something up, the movement draws his attention to the curve of your back

Even with his limited eyesight, Johngalli A. is hyperaware of his surroundings—especially when it comes to you. The way you move, the subtle sway of your hips as you bend down, it all sends a ripple of desire through him that he’s not prepared for

He clenches his jaw, his grip tightening on the rifle as he feels a sudden rush of heat. His normally calm demeanor falters for a moment, and he struggles to maintain his focus. His pulse quickens, and he shifts his stance slightly, trying to hide the growing tension in his body

Johngalli A. isn’t one to let his emotions show, but this time, it’s harder to keep everything under control. He silently curses himself for getting distracted, but his eyes keep drifting back to you, his mind filled with thoughts he knows he shouldn’t be having

“You’re a distraction,” he says quietly, his voice rougher than usual. His body reacts before his mind can stop it, and he feels the unmistakable tightness building beneath his clothes. He adjusts his stance again, but it’s clear that you’ve gotten to him

Jotaro Kujo #6

You’re both in the visitor’s area of the prison, sitting across from each other. As you lean forward to rest your elbows on the table, your shirt shifts slightly, showing off the curve of your chest

Jotaro is usually impossible to read, his stoic expression rarely giving anything away. But when you lean forward like that, his eyes flicker down to the exposed skin, and for the briefest moment, he loses his composure. His breath hitches, but he quickly averts his gaze, clenching his fists on the table

He can feel the warmth rising in his body, his muscles tensing as he fights to keep his reactions in check. Jotaro prides himself on his control, but right now, with you so close, it’s slipping. His body responds instantly, a tightness forming in his pants that he tries to will away, but it’s no use

His eyes flick back to you for a second, and you catch the dark, heated look in them before he looks away again, his jaw set in a firm line. He shifts in his seat, crossing his legs under the table, trying to make his reaction less obvious. But Jotaro isn’t as composed as he seems—his mind is filled with thoughts of you, and his body is reacting in ways he’s trying desperately to ignore

He clears his throat, his voice rough and deeper than usual. “You should be more careful,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of something more in his tone. Something he’s not used to feeling, and it’s making him restless

DIO #6

Dio and you are standing in a lavish, candlelit room. You’re admiring the art on the walls when you reach up to adjust your hair, arching your back in a way that accentuates the curve of your body

Dio’s gaze is fixed on you, his eyes narrowing with a mix of hunger and admiration. The way you move so casually, completely unaware of how intoxicating you look, drives him wild. His desire for control, for power, is suddenly eclipsed by a more primal need

His body reacts instantly, heat pooling in his abdomen as he watches you stretch. He steps closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. He can feel the tightness in his pants growing, but Dio revels in it. He enjoys the feeling of desire coursing through him, and he’s not one to hide it

“You’re exquisite,” he purrs, his voice low and dripping with lust. His eyes trail over your form, unabashed in the way he drinks you in. Dio is always in control—except for moments like this, when the sight of you turns his calculated demeanor into something much more heated

He steps closer, towering over you, his presence almost suffocating. “Do you know what you do to me?” he whispers, his voice heavy with desire. There’s no mistaking the fire in his eyes or the way his body leans toward yours, craving more

…👀👀👀 I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it… No joke this might be one of my favorite works thank you for requesting (I might have been giggling and biting my lip while writing this… Maybe…)

If you liked this make sure to check out my other work! If you’d like me to write anything specific for any character/squad from parts 1-7 you can request it <3 My request rules + master are in my pinned post!

[lilacliquors]

kinktober day ten: fucking machine

pairing: phillip graves x reader

word count: 807

notes: welcome to day ten! i've been so looking forward to writing this all day even though i had a nasty nail break at work whoops but LOOK IT'S MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN

phillip graves was a busy man. he was the ceo and commander of one of the world’s largest private military companies, and he was running back and forth like a mad man. he always tried to make time for you, but sometimes, there just weren’t enough hours in the day. and he missed you like crazy, it was no secret. he knew it, his men knew it, and most of all, you knew it. and that was why a recent purchase of his didn’t shock you too much.

“it doesn’t replace the real thing, but it’s good enough,” he’d said when he showed it to you, and after laughing a bit, you had to agree.

he’d purchased you an automatic fucking machine, something for you to use in his absence. and while you both preferred the real thing, it was damn near close enough to him, you had to wonder if he’d done one of those molds, just for you.

and now, it was time to break it in, and send him the evidence.

he was busy, off in mexico on an assignment, when he got the message from you. worried, he excused himself from a debrief and went off to his private quarters, a bit of anxiety welling in his chest. when he was alone, he opened his phone and saw that it wasn’t a text, or an audio message, but a video. arching a brow, he clicked on it, and it began to play. 

thank god he was alone.

the sight was obscene, deliciously so. you were on your back, your phone propped up at just the right angle, and the brand new toy he’d purchased for you was slowly pumping in and out of you. his eyes hungrily gazed at the recording, watching one of your hands grip your breast while the other reached down you spread those pretty folds, and rub gentle circles on your clit. the sounds of the machine mixed with your moans, and god, how he missed you, how vocal you were, how eager you were.

“oh, phil …” your voice whispered, just loud enough to hear over the whir of the machine. this was downright sinful, and he was glad he’d left religion behind long ago. he could feel himself growing hard in his jeans, so with his free hand, he unbutton them, and slipped his hand under the waistband of them, and his boxers. his hand wrapped around his leaking cock, and as he watched that pretty pussy of yours get stretched, he pumped his hand in time with the rhythm of the machine.

“that’s it, baby,” he muttered, watching the video intently. “so good for me …”

he continued to stroke his cock, watching your face as you let the machine hit just the right spot to make your toes curl, and he could feel an almost primal growl bubble up in his throat. how badly he wanted to be there with you; on top of you, behind you, inside of you …

he continued to watch intently, his heart pounding his his chest as he watched your lips part slightly, your eyes squeeze shut, and your brows pinch together. he knew you were so close to that orgasm, and so was he. he watched your chest heave, your muscles tense, all of your tells in one perfect video. and just as you were about to cum …

“o-oh my god, oh my god, oh - oh phillip! oh!”

that sent him over the edge. his legs nearly buckled beneath him as he came over his hand and boxers to the sound of you crying out for him in his absence. he had no idea how badly he’d needed to hear that until just then. he leaned back against the wall, his face damp with sweat and hot with exertion. but the video wasn’t over yet.

he watched as you fumbled for the remote to stop it, and whirring sound died. the room was silent, save for your soft, panting breaths. then, you looked at the camera with those beautiful eyes he loved so much, and you smiled. it was a soft, blissful, fucked out smile.

“i miss you, baby. come home soon,” you said, your voice soft. then you blew a kiss to the camera, got up, and crawled over to stop recording. despite what he’d just seen and done, he smiled, and he closed the video to go back to his text messages. he hit the microphone icon, and began to record an audio message for you.

“appreciate the gift, darlin’. i’ll be back as soon as i can. be good for me, love you.”

he hit send, then exhaled a bit. he had some cleaning up to do before he went back out to his men. 

and he had a cover story to whip up.

[redpill-tfs]

Phew... I'm pretty much done with college now. I'm excited to start my teacher training! Hopefully I can be a great role model and make every student feel welcome in my science classes. If I can even encourage a few students with open minds and diverse thoughts to get into STEM, maybe the future of the US and the world won't be so bleak. Looks like I've got an email from the high school I'm set to teach in, and they wanna have a meeting with me soon... something about the school's values?

You arrive at the principal's office a few minutes early, your polo shirt neatly tucked into your khakis. You have to look good for your first day after all, especially when you have a meeting with the head honcho himself. Your shirt is a little big on you, but you don't exactly have much muscle. You were too busy studying nerdy subjects like chemistry, calculus, and physics to make it to the gym or do any sort of sports. Not that it was your scene anyway. You give two quick knocks on the door.

"Enter," his deep booming voice calls out from within.

You quickly enter the room, sitting down in the chair across the desk from Principal Reece. With his muscles bulging out of his dress shirt and commanding presence, he's exactly the type of man you'd never be in a million years. You remember him saying in the interview this is his first school year here too, and he has a vision for how his school should be run.

"I know we discussed a bit about your teaching philosophy in your interview, but I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page about a few things. This school has a certain atmosphere we'd like to keep.

You hesitantly nod and give a verbal approval. You really need this job, and surely it can't be that bad, right?

"First, I want to reiterate that this is a private Christian school. That means everything we teach is through the lens of the Bible. I'm sure that's okay with you."

At first you're confused. You swore this was a public school when you applied. But the more you thought about it, the less sense that made. Why would you want to teach anywhere you couldn't spread the word of God? Your religion is extremely important to you. Your parents enrolled you in private school as soon as you were old enough for school and you thank them every day for it now. You think everyone should have the opportunity to go to a school like this one.

Principal Reece barely acknowledges your reply before continuing. "We also want all of our teachers to coach a sport or lead an after school club. Looking back at my notes from your interview, it looks like you want to coach football?"

You remember them mentioning that in your interview, but you swore you had put down D&D club. But why would you have said that? You weren't some type of nerd! Sure you have a bachelor's degree in science, but you're a jock through and through. You were the quarterback all throughout high school and college, leading your team to countless victories. All that gym training stuck with you and you've continued to go every morning. The muscles bulging out of your polo show what hard work can do to a man. You couldn't wait to share your passion with the next generation.

"We also have a strict dress code for faculty. Good to see you got that email."

You take a look down at your outfit, confirming you meet the standards. A crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to show off your arms. A red striped tie around your neck, going down to your belt buckle as is standard. Dark blue dress pants and brown dress shoes complete the look. It feels good to dress formally. You wanted to talk with Principal Reece about implementing a similar dress code for the students as well.

"Most importantly, this school teaches conservative values. We have no desire to cave to the woke mob and indoctrinate children and demand our instructors feel the same way."

You earnestly agree. That's why you decided to teach history. America is the greatest country ever created and the kids deserve to know that! Too much of science has been taken over by liberal propaganda anyway. Those snowflakes say to "trust the science" but you know better than that. You have a no nonsense policy for that woke crap in your classroom. You run your classroom like a tight ship. It's either the Right way or the wrong way, and you don't have patience for the wrong way.

Principal Reece gives you a smile that seems more like a smirk, but you're probably just imagining things. Great to see we're on the same page. I'll let you go to your classroom now. I have a few more one on one meetings before classes start.

You head off to your classroom and sit at your desk, going over your lesson plans for the day. After the Pledge of Allegiance (which you'll proudly lead the class in reciting), attendance, the syllabus you're going to start off the year with the Revolutionary War. You hear the first bell ring and hear the students starting to shuffle in.

It's the start of another school year, and you have work to do.