#had a virgin mary birth | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

01zfan · 2 months

Text

understanding my faith pt. 4 | l. at

church boy!anton x fem. reader | 3.3k words

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANTON! this is a compilation of a few requests and some other things i got in my inbox heh. also looked it up out of curiosity and anton actually was born on a sunday LMFAO?

contains: religious imagery and metaphors

umf: part one | part two | part three | part four

anton was born on a sunday. it was the first warm day of the season, marking the unofficial start of spring. anton heard the stories of the sun breaking through the storm clouds in the middle of the sermon. the congregation watched in silence as the beam of light casted through the stained glass to shine on the podium. it was then, as if lit on fire by the light that his mother began wailing. despite having a swollen stomach underneath unnecessary layers of clothes she still attended church passionately.

she got up from the pew and stumbled towards the exit, hand on her stomach while groaning in pain. many rushed to her aide but the beam of light was faster. it shined on her back, and when it disappeared behind another cluster of clouds a screaming baby was left in its place. anton was birthed in the aisle between two rows of pews while his mother was surrounded by confused parishioners.

if anton’s mom was treated like the virgin mary then anton was baby christ. he was too young to remember the offerings he received en masse. envelopes full of cash were slipped into his carseat and everyone constantly offered to hold him. anton had fleeting memories of people coming to him when he could first form full sentences, asking for guidance or for his well wishes. that was when he was still mischievous—prayers came with the small price of chocolate or banana milk.

every year when anton’s birthday came around, his church celebrated . when anton was younger he believed his congregation was celebrating him. but there was no cake, only food that received blessings from the bible. none of his friends were there, only people from his flock. he wasn’t at the arcade where he wanted to be, instead surrounded by trees and log cabins. anton received no gift he truly wanted. when he wanted the newest action figure he only got lessons on how to fish and forage for food.

by the time he was fifteen, anton dreaded seeing his birthdate on the calendar. a whole weekend gone every year, lost in the woods on an unnecessary church retreat. over time, anton started filling in the gaps of the story he heard through the grapevine. the story was beautiful and meant alot to the church, but he could tell their were aspects of the sotry that didn’t fit the narrative. his mother would grimace and shake her head anytime anton tried to dig deeper. there was still a red stain in the carpet of the nave, where it seeped through and painted the wood crimson. anton imagined his mother’s frightened face—he’s now the same age she was when she gave birth for her entire world to see.

the more gaps in the story that were filled the more anton felt sympathy for his mother. he was always a dutiful son and loyal member to the church. he never complained about having to go into the woods during his birthday weekend. but when he realized what it took from his mother every year he started making the effort to vocalize how grateful he was. he was the first one to offer up his skills in fishing and led prayer. he listened to the prayers of people who still remembered that anton was a gift from god.

anton was twenty now and this trip was different. he was truly grateful beaming like the same light that shined down on his mother. he was grateful because he got to break bread with you, even if you sat on the opposite end of the table. he stole glances at you over the plates of fish and fruit, and raised the blood of christ in your direction. the fear of being caught again should’ve taught you two a lesson. a random face in the crowd whispered to anton after the night in the parking lot, saying that she knew what had happened.

“cursed for the same fate like your mother.” she sneered.

the blood drained from anton’s face when hearing her words. you were there behind him, backing his voice the same way you did when performing for the church. you came to his defense, puffing your chest and shaking your head.

denial fell from your lips quickly, and anton blindly corroborated. your words were confident but anton could see the tremor in your hands and the way your pupils shook. you were both lucky that the woman was silenced, saying something along the lines that she will be held in the good graces of anton’s parents from now on.

a week had passed and you two haven’t let yourselves be in the same room together since. it was a test for the both of you, about temptation and if the chance of getting caught was worth it. anton learned that he didn’t care, and that you cared even less.

there were short moments in the days leading up to the retreat. anton following you as you passed him in the hallway, slipping notes when you would join hands to sing hymns. anton barely got the chance to touch you anymore and it had an effect on him. anton would usually be able to hold his wants at bay, but lack of contact made him desperate. a simple look from you sat at the forefront of his mind. he spent the rest of the day finding your name in hymns and the separate letters that spelled your name in the bible.

he would never tell you, but at his lowest he went into the confessional booth alone and thought of you. in the darkness of the booth he could see the last night you spent together. in the shadows he was able to project the image of his car windows fogging and the way it rocked back and forth. when anton remembered your clammy hand pressed on his broad chest he couldn’t stop his own hand. he touched himself in the cramped space of the booth. his knees pressed to the wooden walls, with so much force that they creaked. the sound drowned out his grunts and the wet sound of him fucking his hand. he imagine you on your knees in front of him in prayer when he made a mess over his knuckles and slacks. he slumped in the booth, looking through the small holes trying to come to terms with what he had done. anton was able to rationalize his actions—it was easy to ask for forgiveness when he was already here.

“forgive me father for i have sinned.” anton said quietly to himself.

he had gotten too used to saying that phrase. he had to say it nearly every night leading up to the trip. he couldn’t keep his hands off himself when he thought of you. the problem only compounded while being here. he was alone in his cabin, the one single gift he got for his birthday. while he was alone, he got the chance to do anything he wanted. he spent that time thinking of you, and what he would do to you when you got the chance to finally be together again.

anton laid on his duvet in only his boxers. he stared at the fan above him, how it did slow revolutions. anton barely felt air circulating in the room even though the room felt like it was closing in on him. trying to control his breath didn’t work, the harder he tried the more desperate he became. he could almost hear your breathy moans as he pinched the fabric of his boxers in his hand. he unnecessarily teased himself the whole trip. he had worked himself up the whole trip as some sort of punishment. anton only had to touch his thigh lightly to have his dick twitching in his underwear. the tent in his pants obstructed his vision when he looked down, and if he stared at it for too long he would twitch again.

anton had almost given in when he heard a rock tap on his window. he was so inside of his mind that he didn’t hear what was going on around him. he could only hear your voice and see your face. he imagined you crawling up his body, your weight causing craters in the mattress that caused his body to lean. anton could barely move in this position, only breathe heavily as the vision of your face got closer and closer to his. when your lips ghosted over his the sound of a tiny pebble was heard again.

anton shot up in his bed, pulled from his trance. he could feel the precum seeping through the cotton of his underwear and his body already felt weak. he had half a mind when the tiny sound filled his room again. his head found the sound, and he grabbed a folded blanket off his bed to hide his weakness for you as he got off the bed.

timid steps took him to his cabin window, and he could see you on the other side of the glass. the blanket was forgotten on the ground as anton lifted his window. anton didn’t hesitate to take out the screen of the window so he could fully lean part of his body out. he should’ve looked from side to side quickly to check that you weren’t followed, but he only saw you.

“what are you doing here?” anton whispered.

you smiled before walking closer to his window.

“it’s your birthday.” you said simply.

anton nodded, still looking at you. you got on your tiptoes, and anton leaned so far down that your foreheads touched.

“can i come inside?�� you asked.

any part of anton that would’ve denied had left him a long time ago. all that was left was you in his mind, and how you looked up at him from your position outside. he nodded and reached his hands out to grab yours. when your hold on his hands was tight enough he used a portion of his strength to help you through the open space in his window.

you didn’t need his help. you cleared most of the way, but you couldn’t stop yourself from stumbling trying to regain your balance. anton held you close, stumbling with you until you both steadied. he had your arms pressed to your chest, constricting you in a way that left you looking up to him helplessly. anton could tell you felt all of him when your eyes widened and your nails dug into your palm. you took a glance down. past the place where your two bodies touched antons hard dick pressed into your torso.

“did you miss me?” you asked.

“breaking bread with you wasn’t enough.” anton said quietly.

“are you giving into temptation?” you ask, tilting your head.

your words are playful as your eyes drift to anton’s lips. he is serious when he speaks, pulling you closer into him.

“can you feel it?” anton whispers.

you nod your head, and quickly peer behind anton to find the bed. the walk back to the bed is slow. neither of you kiss, only breathe in heavily as you find your footing.

by the time you both find it there’s no use. the back of anton’s legs hit the soft edges of his mattress, causing him to fall backwards. you stay upright, and your eyes stay on the tent still in anton’s pants. he lets you feast on him as he backs up further on the bed, until he can lay his full body down comfortably.

anton watches you get undressed at the foot of his bed. you take off each article of clothing slowly, your pants pool at your ankles and you toss your shirt to anton. he grabs it and brings it to his face, breathing in all he can take. you watch mesmerized on the other end, mouth agape when he thrusts upwards into nothing. anton’s cheeks turn rosy but he is not embarrassed. he continues to let his hips jerk and his dick twitch. you both break bread for the second time that night, feeding off eachother’s reactions.

when you can’t take it anymore, you crawl onto the bed. the same way in anton’s visions, a grueling slow pace where your body is almost touching his. anton forces himself to be still. not only does he have to be ready to take whatever you give him, but he is also afraid if he moves too much the cliff he’s balancing on will disappear underneath his feet. so he stays still as your eyes travel from the tent in his pants to the hair on his head.

you were on your knees beside anton’s body, leaned over until your clothed chest touched his. anton felt one of your hands start at his knuckles, freeing his hand from the hold it had on his boxers. you place his palms facing upright. anton slightly shook his head—he was not strong enough to be so vulnerable in his sensitive state underneath you. you nodded your head and pressed your wet lips to his ear.

“i will never leave you nor forsake you.” you whispered.

anton took a deep breath, swallowing his pride and kept his palms facing towards the ceiling.

“you are blessed.” you said underneath your breath.

this is when anton nods in agreement. the way you touch his palm and drag your hand up his arm makes anton think he is favored by something bigger than himself. when your hand glides across his collarbones and up his neck anton’s hand snaps to grab you at your elbow. the sudden movement causes you to pause, and you look down at him. anton’s eyes feel wet as he looks up at you. his dick twitches and he can feel it getting even harder. the tent in his pants moves as his heavy dick slaps against his stomach. the thought of you touching him fills his mind, so much that anton has the urge to flip you over.

“it’s been so long.” anton chokes out.

you nod and grab his hand that rests on the bed. you look down between your two bodies, looking past his dick that weeps for your attention to find his hand. you lift it slowly, until anton’s palm cups your heat. you sigh heavily and he indulges himself for a second, pressing a finger to your panties to feel the wet spot. you close your eyes briefly and press your forehead against anton’s.

“i waited for you for years, so why do i feel like this after a week?” you ask.

anton can’t bring himself to mention sin at a time like this. he had built an understanding that sin was just a reworked virtue. lust was a product of his never ending love and his need to please you. it was a gift to be with you, and lust helped him explore aspects of your union in the private spaces you two created. so anton lets of a breath and guides your hand to his heavy dick. it twitches upwards, looking for your warmth before you can even touch him. when you grab his length with conviction over the fabric of his boxers anton thrusts into your fist. his free hand guides one of your legs over his body. once you straddle him you let your body rest into him fully. you pull your hand away from his dick to replace it with your clothed heat.

“you can feel all of me soon.” you say quickly.

“i can’t wait any longer.” anton whimpers.

anton’s hand was still selfishly placed on your center. he worked his way up, until it was just a singular finger pressing slightly into your clit. all of his restraint went into not rubbing revolutions on the sensitive bundle of nerves. but anton knew you well enough to know that giving you a inch made you take a mile. he knew that you would be trying your best to chance after the dull sensation of a finger pressed to your clit that it would drive you to rut your hips into his.

anton responded just as desperate, chasing the feeling of his stiff dick having nowhere to go. he wanted to feel you wrapped around him while he got lost in the halls of your labyrinth. but anton didn’t want to stop seeing your chest jump in the confines of your bra while you pressed your hips into his with a reckless abandon.

“i’ll make this your best birthday.” you gasp.

your breathing started to become heavy and anton was reduced to actions. he nodded, showing you how grateful he was for you but moved a hand to your ass to press you on his dick. he needed more so much more that he would bare the burden to cum in his pants like he had never been touch before. all he needed you to do was keep swiveling your hips and place wet kisses on his face.

anton was thankful you knew what he needed. the way you always took care of him made a stone form in his throat. when you kissed his jawline anton couldn’t hold back.

“i’m sorry. i can’t wait any longer.” he whimpered.

you only continued moving your hips the same way, feeling your slick and anton’s precum mix on the fabric of your underwear.

“don’t be sorry.” you said clearly.

you kissed his forehead and pulled him up, so you guys were both sitting upwards on the bed. the position change confused anton, but you started leading him. you alternated between bounding and grinding on his dick, and anton’s hands on your side helped you with how much pressure he needed. anton’s held tilted back, and he focused on the fans slow moving blades. your quiet moans were gentle like the air circulating in his room, and the gentle bed creaks put anton in a trance.

your hand on his face brought anton back to reality. he had you on top of him, and your eyebrows were knit the same way they were when you were trying to read latin. your mouth opened and anton took it as an invitation to place his lips on yours.

he could only slip his tongue into your mouth for a second before he felt the coil in the pit of his stomach wind again. he pulled away from you as it twisted all around his body, and he pulled you in when it snapped. anton felt his heavy dick strain against the fabric as he whimpered into the crook of your neck. you moaned while still riding him, and a pulling hand in anton’s hair prolonged the feeling across his body.

“i love you.” anton muttered over and over again.

“i love you too.” you mumbled back.

you followed shortly after him, pulling away so you could rest your hands on anton’s calves. he watched your abs flex as you continued to swivel your hips. all anton had to do was press that same finger to your clit to make you freeze. the wet spot on your panties from anton’s cum became darker as your legs shook around him. your eyes screwed shut and you instinctually turned your head away from anton to bite down on your shoulder. it kept you quiet enough to avoid the walls that had ears.

“my angel.” anton cooed.

you could only whine in response, and shake your head when anton teased you over your underwear. you pushed him back onto the bed, and you let all of your body weight rest on anton’s chest. you could feel his dick soften between your two bodies. when the cold wetness of your underwear made you shift, anton kept you pressed to his chest with a strong arm on your back.

anton laid with you until sunday came. both of you were so tired, so spent from time apart that you laid together in silence. you both watched to fan slowly rotate in the darkness until it was illuminated in the morning light. you left, this time through the front door and after kissing anton for every year he’s blessed the earth.

#requestz #seriez: sacrilegious #seriez: understanding my faith #01zfan: anton #anton smut #riize smut

165 notes · View notes

nixster627 · 1 year

Text

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian are the type of people who wholeheartedly believe their sister has never had sex.

Like, yeah, she gave birth to a whole ass child, but obviously that was a Virgin Mary type situation. She would never have sex with Jin Zixuan. It’s just a coincidence that the child looks so much like Jin Zixuan.

And they would fight anyone who believes otherwise to death.

#mdzs #the untamed #cql #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo dao zu shi #wei ying #wei wuxian #the untamed wwx #cql wwx #mdzs wwx #wwx #jiang cheng

1K notes · View notes

teecupangel · 7 months

Text

@thedragonqueen1998's reply to this post

That new tag actually is an idea/AU i've thought of lately. XD Where Desmond gives birth to Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton before being kidnapped. I've personally had him just suddenly become pregnant, no sex needed to lean more into the "Desmond is the Chosen One". XD Plus, we need more Dadmond tbh.

Virgin Birth.

Desmond had never even heard about it until he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

This is, according to Wikipedia, different from Immaculate Conception.

Desmond would like to reiterate that he was not the second coming of Virgin Mary.

… as far as he knew.

Not only that, he had been a virgin before he gave birth, having enough trust issues to fill a goddamn dam at the moment.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to know how sex feels like.

It was more that he was still scared that his father or someone his father sent would come find him and take him away from this freedom.

He can’t go back.

He would never go back.

Especially now that he had three sons to think of.

They were born on December 21, 2005.

At least, that was what Desmond believed.

The morning of December 21, his stomach started hurting so badly he couldn’t leave his bed. The pain ebbed and flowed from paralyzing pain to almost unnoticeable, giving Desmond a chance to text that he wouldn’t make it to his shift because of ‘stomachaches’.

His boss assumed he had diarrhea and told him to stop eating weird cheap shit.

Desmond was pretty sure that wasn’t it but it wasn’t like he could go to a clinic and get this check out.

Clinics meant asking questions about who he was and his history.

Clinics left tracks that William Miles can find.

Desmond knew how the game is played.

And fuck that. Desmond wasn’t going to give up his goddamn freedom because of a stomachache.

It will come to pass.

Like every pain Desmond ever felt.

So he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Inhaling deeply before slowly exhaling, timing his breathing to the ebb and flow of the pain.

By midday…

Desmond fell asleep.

He didn’t know if the breathing helped him fall asleep or if he had passed out from the exhaustion and pain.

When he woke up, the sun had started to set and…

The pain was gone.

His bed was a lost cause, covered in blood, but Desmond’s attention was focused on the three small forms lying on the bed between his legs.

His sons.

Three bloodied (and, Desmond was being honest, wrinkly newly born ugly) babies who were all staring at him as they make cooing sounds.

That was the day Desmond became a father.

And also the day he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

They were… low maintenance boys, Desmond supposed.

They only shout when they needed to get Desmond’s attention and they weren’t fussy over their drinks. They seemed a bit disgruntled every time Desmond had to change their diapers but they didn’t cry.

They rarely cry.

They only truly cry at times when they were asleep and Desmond believed that they would have nightmares during those times.

His boss was strangely alright with Desmond suddenly appearing with three babies, only looking at him with a frown as he told him that this should be his wake up call to use condoms.

Even his coworkers believed that the one day that Desmond said he was out because of ‘stomachache’ had been code for him freaking out because an ex had left him with three sons as a big fuck you or something.

The most support Desmond got from them though was letting the babies stay in the office.

He had to buy the collapsible playpen though but it was fine.

It gave him an excuse to get more shifts just to pay for his and his sons’ living expenses.

One of his coworkers asked why he didn’t just give them up for adoption. It was clear that he wasn’t ready for it.

And Desmond couldn’t explain it.

He wanted them.

They might have been a surprise but… they were his.

And…

Whenever he felt tired or felt like everything was becoming too much… just feeling them in his arms was enough.

It was enough.

Miles’ kids were strange boys.

They didn’t make any messes and they were polite… most of the time, anyway.

He knew it was bad to let Miles use his office to keep the kids. Hell, this bar was not a good place for kids and Miles should really just get a babysitter but he didn’t mind.

Miles was homeschooling them… in a way.

It wasn’t his place to give parenting advice anyway so he stayed out of whatever Miles planned for his kids. As long as they don’t hinder business, they could stay.

Altaïr was always on that second hand battered laptop that always made loud fan noises when it was turned on. They mostly kept it on because of it.

At first, he thought Altaïr was just playing in his laptop but… he was studying. Every tab he could see was either educational or… well… Wikipedia pages. Even the YouTube account Desmond shared with his sons were filled with educational videos, mostly something connected to history or engineering or technology.

Desmond liked to say that Altaïr was a genius and had been saving up to buy him a better laptop for the past year now.

Ezio, on the other hand, was more of a people’s person. He liked to talk to Desmond’s coworker before the start of their shift and he was a charming little bugger. Charming enough that many of Desmond’s coworkers started to give them food and juice boxes, saying they made too much or their parents or grandparents gave them too much food and there’s no more space in their fridge…

He was pretty sure that was Ezio’s plan from the very beginning. Build up a network of helpful adults.

Then there was Connor.

He had a different name that Desmond and his brothers use but it was hard to pronounce so he just let everyone else call him Connor.

He followed his father or one of his brothers most of the time, quiet by their side.

Observing.

He was the one who helped out the most, always following Desmond and helping him whenever they were doing their final clean up before closing for the day.

When he was with Ezio, he was always earnest with his questions, taking everything the adults tell him seriously.

When he was with Altaïr, he would lean close and read with him quietly. They would share the earbuds that they had with tape on the right wire because the casing had broken apart and watch videos quietly.

They were… nice kids.

Desmond was a good father dealt with a bad hand.

He supposed…

Buying Desmond a cheap laptop would be cheaper than raising his pay this Christmas.

Would save him more money in the long run, that’s for sure.

262 notes · View notes

useless-catalanfacts · 2 months

Text

Hehehe.... Here's a post I think you people will like.

A while ago, I was asked about Catalan swear words. I answered it and I explained how very often we say "I shit on ..." and gave some examples. You can find that post here:

Yesterday, someone in Catalan Twitter tweeted asking what are your favourite swearings, and I think you might like to hear what people answered. So here it goes!

Així plogués tant, que els ànecs arribessin a mossegar els collons de Déu! = This way may it rain so much that ducks could reach to bite God's bollocks.

Així baixi una olla del cel, amb el cap de Déu per tapadora! = This way may a cooking pot fall from Heaven/sky with God's head as the lid!

Cagum tots los sants posats en un bocoi amb Déu per tap! = I shit on all the saints placed inside a hogdhead (large cask barrel) with God as the lid!

Cagum la veta del capdavall de la cama dreta de les calces del pagès que va plantar la primera fava que va menjar l'ase que va dur la Mare de Déu a Egipte! = I shit on the ribbon of the lowest part of the right leg of the trousers of the farmer who planted the first bean that was eaten by the donkey that took the Virgin Mary to Egypt!

Cagum Sant Hilari i tots els sants del calendari, i si em deixés algun per dir, me cagum la mare que el va parir. = I shit on Saint Hilarius and all the saints on the calendar; and if I had missed saying any of them, I shit on the mother that gave birth to them. (But in Catalan it rhymes).

Cagum Déu i el que portava la creu, i el que la va fer que era fuster = I shit on God and the guy who carried the cross, and the guy who made it who was a carpenter (in Catalan it rhymes) or Cagum Déu, la creu i el fuster que la feu = I shit on God, the cross, and the carpenter who made it (also rhymes).

Em cago en els quatre puntals que aguanten la cagadora de Déu = I shit on the four stakes that hold up God's shitting hole. (Maaaany people have said this one or variations of it)

Em cago en la puta que va arribar a parir el paleta que va fer les quatre pilastres que aguantaven la cagadora de Déu i tots els sants = I shit on the whore who reached the point of giving birth to the bricklayer who built the four pilars what held up the shitting hole of God and all the saints.

Cagum Sant Roc, el gos i la mare que els va parir tots dos = I shit on Saint Roch, the dog, and the mother who gave birth to both.

Me cago en la tita del dimoni porc = I shit on the pig demon's dick.

Cago'n la sang d'un banc i el fetge d'una cadira coixa = I shit on a bench's blood and a lame chair's liver.

Em cago en els claus dels peus de Cristu crucificat = I shit on the screws/nails on crucified Christ's feet.

Em cago en l'ou que va fer la gallina que va servir per fer el caldo de la Mare de Déu quan era partera = I shit on egg that was laid by the chicken that was used to make the broth for the Virgin Mary when she had just given birth.

Me cagum Satanàs clavat dalt d'un cirerer = I shit on Satan nailed to the top of a cherry tree.

Mal davallés el secretari de Déu, vestit de torero = Wouldn't God's secretary come down, dressed as a bullfighter.

What swearings do you say when something goes wrong? In my house, the most common one is a simple one: collons de mico (monkey bollocks).

#llengua catalana #català #valencià #coses de la terra #swearing #languages #language #langblr #swear words

93 notes · View notes

cyber-night · 5 months

Text

A very late chrimis smut. :3

Content Warnings: Dom Reader, sub character, Sub Fyodor, puppy play-ish, leash, collar, things nit to do in a church, this is surprisingly gentle for me, degradation, humiliation let me know if I missed something

You were sitting in church listening to the pastor drone on and on about the birth of christ and the miraculous conception and virgin Mary. While your lovely Fyodor tried to keep himself from trembling. Fyodor had made a slight miscalculation when trying to get you to attend Christmas Eve mass. That mistake being that he said he'd do "anything" to get you to come with him... anything turned out to be a vibrating plug pressed against his prostate and a thin collar and leash beneat his suit.

The leash went under his shirt and down his sleeve easily hidden and hard to notice when you held it you held his hand as well. Fyodor, for the most part, was very good at focusing on the preacher except when you changed the speed of the vibrator. Periodically, you'd raise and lower the speed to make him tense. After the sermon, they started on communion. The part you were most looking forward to and that he was most dreading. You both stand up the leash still in your hand, hidden from view as you held onto his. Just before you both took communion, you turned the vibrator off. When he went to take a sip of wine, you turned it to the highest setting and watched him choke you coo and pat his back as if comforting him. The priest looks at him worriedly, and Fyodor brushes it off his violet eyes, looking at you pathetically. You guide him back to the pew and then turn the vibrator off for the rest of mass.

Once you two were home, it was past midnight. The moment the door shuts, Fyodor looks at you, hopefully. He's so worked up and sensitive. His body is so easy to play with, and you had been tormenting him all throughout midnight mass. He didn't want to have to use his hand to try and pleasure himself tonight, not after he'd been so good for you. He wouldn't say any of that to you, though, his emotions far too private for him to lay bare. So, instead, he tries to say it with his eyes. You know him well enough to read him like a book. "Aww, is my poor puppy needy?" You tease him as you start unbuttoning his shirt. "Don't worry, I have gifts for you, and while I think most should be saved till tomorrow, I think I'll let you unwrap one tonight. How does that sound?" You ask sweetly as you push his shirt open and wrap the leash around your hand several times so you can pull him in for a kiss. His eyes are glazed over, his brain already shutting off after having to work overtime at church to make sure he doesn't make a fool of himself.

You grab a box from under the tree and then guide him up to your bedroom he follows obediently, not that he has a choice with you tugging his leash. Once you have him in your shared bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed watching him with loving eyes. "Puppy, why don't you strip for me?" you say thoughtfully gesturing to his open shirt and his pants. Fyodor nods, his hair falling in his face as he does so, and you watch as he takes the rest of his clothes off, then sinks to his knees between your legs. You then present him with a wrapped box. "For you, my sweet little mutt." He reaches up and takes it.

You can see he's been biting his nails worse than usual. The holidays are usually stressful for him to many people and events going on. You decide not to comment on it now. He holds it, looking up at you, waiting to be told he can open it. "Good boy. Yes, you can open it now." Carefully, Fyodor unwraps the box, choosing to peal the paper off at the seams rather than rip it off. He folds the paper up and sets it to the side before inspecting the box. "Go ahead and open it, Doll." He opens the box to reveal a photo album with a lock. The key rests beneath the book, and he gently unlocks the photo album. The photos in it were pictures of him... him tied up, him trembling, or with his back arched as he came, all of the photos were him in increasingly lewd positions. "All... all of them are of me?" He asks. He knew you took photos of him you had asked and still did before doing so, but he'd never seen them until now. He flips the page and pauses there nestled in-between photos of him in is a photo of you... a professionally done photo of you, a nude photo of you. He flips through the book, slowly looking at himself and pin-ups of you.

You can see his hips idly moving, shifting the plug that's still buried inside him. "Horny, are we?" He snaps his head up to glare at you. "Don't look at me like that. Or I won't fuck you senseless while you flip through that. Now come up here, hands and knees darling." You say as you tug on his leash. He moves up onto the bed, bringing the book and whining as the plug shifts. He gets into position and has the book set in front of him so he can still flip through it. You toy with the plug inside him before removing it and slowly and gently replacing it with your cock. "Ngh- s-so pretty..." He moans softly. "Which one? You or me?" The page he's on has a photo of him on his knees with a dildo in his ass and mouth this was back when you were training away his God awful gag reflux. Next to it though is a picture of you chest exposed and legs spread just enough a piece of silk cloth draped over you. "Personally? I think it's you. You cried so much when we did that." He whimpered as you gently fucked him. "Made such a mess too. Pity you don't gag like that anymore. It made you so pathetic, puppy."

Fyodor shudders his arms, giving out as he collapses beneath your slow and forceful thrusts. His eyes roll back as the angle forces you deeper into him. "Please..." He whines you use the leash to pull him up onto his knees, his back to your chest, so you can bite and suck on his neck. One of his hands reaches behind him to rest on your waist for an attempt at stability. "Such a good boy. Taking it so well for me, mutt." A soft kiss is placed on his jaw. "Is my puppy close?" He whines and leans his head back on your shoulder as his body trembles as he cums untouched. His cute little cock leaking spurts of cum onto the mattress. "Did you like your gifts?" You ask him softly as you lay him down. He looks up at you in confusion. "Gifts? Plural?"

"The book... and the sex." You tease him as you undo his collar so he can rest. He hums in understanding and smiles faintly as he nods. The book and his collar and leash are set aside as he pulls you into his embrace. You kiss him, then whisper. "Merry Christmas, Dove. Rest and I'll clean you up, yeah?" He nods and dozes off slightly, making you smile.

#fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #sub fyodor #bottom fyodor #sub bsd #Cyber-Write

130 notes · View notes

projectbluearcadia · 1 month

Text

Weird shower thought fantasy / crossover idea / headcanon

Partially in honor of the WHB devs finally releasing Lucifer (Selfie)

What In Hell Is Bad and Obey Me! actually take place in the same world, but WHB takes place before Obey Me, in the bad old days.

And God was upset that the kings had it so rough and reflected on himself a little. "Damn, I feel guilty about how those beautiful creations of mine died due to my negligence."

And so he decided they should be one big happy family.

He scoured Hell for what remained of the demon kings after a massive war that damn near destroyed both Heaven and Hell and gave their essence to his new creations. So, basically, he reincarnated them.

The birth/creation order was mostly determined by whose essence he was able to find first. Of course, that essence was mostly their sins that they left behind, so when they all fell from Heaven, they essentially resumed their duties as the seven kings.

And, purely because WHB Satan was (obviously) practically obliterated, God said "A'ight Luci's got a festering angie monster inside of him, so I'll just put what consciousness I could find from WHB Satan in there so it'll be kinda reasonable when he has to let it all out. Thank me later, son :P" <- the reason Luci became a single mother father.

Luci: Thanks a lot, God. First the virgin Mary and now this??

Funnily enough what God found was mostly WHB Satan's sweet side, which is the reason that OM Satan resembles (and likes) cats. The only one who didn't inherit the sin from his predecessor got it anyway because of his dad. Go figure.

The countries (Abyssos, Tartaros, Gehenna, etc.) no longer existed after the war, and Diavolo's lineage, which was probably descendent of one or more of the WHB's kings' vassals, was the one trying to pick up the pieces. The war continued because many of the angels were still complete dicks, but Diavolo's family eventually eradicated what had survived from The Big War™.

Excluding Gabriel, because Gabriel is a prick.

Which may or may not have been a factor in Lucifer falling from Heaven because he killed Gabriel on his way down. You know, because Gabriel was probably Lilith's executioner, given his history.

Then Diavolo, to signal the fresh start, said "We're not calling it Hell and Heaven anymore, now it's "The Devildom" and "The Celestial Realm." Less stigma. Very good."

And our dear Solomon? Well, you know how he is... I think there's definitely some things he hasn't told you...

Like how he was technically dead for a hot minute because of some magical mishap, which translated into a few thousand years in hell because of the way time flows there. His experiment gone wrong is also the reason why his appearance changed so drastically.

You'll ask him one day, "Hey, did you have purple hair in the past?" and he'll just start sweating profusely because he's very embarrassed about how often he did some *ahem* interesting things with the former demon kings. Asmo is the only one who still has that feeling from his past life :)

And, as far as how time flows and MC frequently traveling between the human world and hell in OM!, the travel is actually magically controlled by Barbatos, our resident overpowered god, who was annoyed by the time dilation/contraction and wanted to just visit his favorite tea shops in the human world whenever he wanted without f*cking around.

I mean, all of the demon kings knew how to go back and forth, but they had to do overly complicated shit to do it, so Barbie just said "sharing is caring" and perfected the magic by the OM! time period.

Of course there's an implication here that all events in Heaven/Hell are technically happening simultaneously from a human world perspective. Which isn't trippy at all.

And yes, OM! Barbatos and WHB Barbatos know each other. Because OM! Barbatos is (obviously) from a parallel dimension and took WHB Barbatos' name since he enjoyed the rose gardens WHB Barbie tended to. It's out of respect since he faithfully died for Leviathan in the bad old days.

Flawless joining of the worlds without a hint of plotholes (sarcasm).

(This is so random, but I hope y'all enjoyed my fever dream.)

#why is it always in the shower #obey me shall we date #what in hell is bad #crossover idea #headcanon #shower thoughts #obey me!#shameless self indulgence #fanfiction #obey me #random thoughts #whb

70 notes · View notes

arabian-batboy · 1 year

Text

You know at this point I actually wish that Damian wasn’t Bruce’s biological child. Because not only is DC determined to make that his only personality trait, but it also undermine Damian’s talents and skills by claiming the only reason he’s so good at what he does is because he’s “Batman’s son” and not because of his own hard-work and all the years of training had before he even met his father, but also you get people claiming that Damian is somehow being favored by DC over his adopted children, even though Damian ironically has the worst/2nd worst relationship with Bruce in the entire Batfamily

And on-top of all of that, you have every new writer going out of their way to erase Damian’s individuality to turn him into a mini-Bruce in every way and insinuate that him growing-up to be an evil version of Batman is the only possible future for him.

He literally doesn’t benefit from being Bruce’s biological child in any positive way at all, but I also don’t want him to have another dad to replace Bruce, because I know DC will choose the worst piece of shit in the world to be his biological father (they already did try to do that with Slade), so now I humbly suggest that he get rectoned so that Talia give birth to him Virgin-Mary style, he has no biological father, so hopefully now we will not have to see him be “Batman in a trench-coat with high-collars” for the 4958th time again.

#hating Bruce hours #Damian Wayne

514 notes · View notes

goodqueenaly · 14 days

Note

since you clearly know your history, do you think aegon iv's situation with his mistresses while he was king was handled realistically? weren't official king's mistresses married off before taking on their positions because any bastard children sired needed a legal father? falena was married off but there's no mention of barba, melissa, or the other women after aegon iv ascended having husbands. i mean, obviously barba needed to be unwed so she could have a chance of becoming queen but if melissa wanted to establish herself as a non-grasping replacement, shouldn't she go get a husband so naerys, aemon, and daeron couldn't feel threatened? and even if melissa was a super nice person, how she could she remain "well-loved" at court while publicly having bastards and one of them is an albino? wouldn't her reputation be ruined if aegon iv dropped her and she remained unmarried after that?

I think the historical record is somewhat mixed on that point. Think of, for example, GRRM’s, ugh, favorite point of reference for Aegon IV, Henry VIII (yeah, I know): Bessie Blount was not married at the time she was in a relationship with the king (and conceived Henry Fitzroy with him), though she did marry after her son’s birth, while it’s entirely unclear when Mary Boleyn married relative to when she and Henry VIII had their relationship (and, of course, Henry offered to make Anne Boleyn his mistress while she was unmarried). Likewise, if we look to Charles II - another inspiration, I think, for Aegon IV, no less so because I tend to think he named Barba Bracken after Charles’ long-term mistress Barbara Villiers, Duchess of Cleveland - the record is far from one-sided: Barbara herself, for example, was married during their relationship of course, but the king’s two primary mistresses at the end of his life, Louise de Kerouaille and Nell Gwynn, were both unmarried for the whole of their lives (and as much as James Scott, Duke of Monmouth, Charles’ eldest extramarital son, might have claimed that Charles had married his mother, Lucy Walter, when the two were exiles in the Netherlands, Charles himself vehemently denied the supposed marriage, which had no evidence of its existence otherwise). Too, Louis XIV - not perhaps explicitly cited by GRRM as an inspiration for Aegon the Unworthy, but certainly a king famous for his love affairs - had both married and unmarried mistresses: while Louise de La Vallière was unmarried (and later ended her life as a repentant nun), the Marquise de Montespan did have a husband (who notoriously held a “funeral” for his wife after she became the king’s mistress); the widower King Louis did, almost certainly, end up marrying his last mistress, the similarly widowed Marquise de Maintenon. (There is also the story that when one of Louis’ early loves, Marie de Mancini, married her eventual husband, Prince Colonna, the prince was surprised to discover that his wife was a virgin, as he said he had not expected to find “innocence among the loves of kings”.) Again, these are only a very few, very limited examples, but I think it’s fair enough to say that GRRM could have felt, let’s say somewhat historically comforted by having Aegon IV’s mistresses be (mostly) unmarried women.

In any event, I don’t think it was a necessity that Melissa Blackwood be married in order for her to be seen as unthreatening to the queen. While the details of Melissa’s life, especially her time as Aegon’s mistress, are frustratingly thin and vague based on our current knowledge, it does seem that Melissa went out of her way to curry favor with Queen Naerys, Prince Daeron, and Prince Aemon - a step that Barba Bracken almost certainly never took, if she was looking to replace Naerys as queen (and perhaps have her son Aegor replace Daeron as heir). It is also worth pointing out, of course, that in the aftermath of Barba’s, and probably more generally Lord Bracken’s and his faction’s, failed attempt to have Barba marry the king, Melissa and whatever faction was supporting her may have emphasized that Melissa had no such ambitions in order to distinguish her from the disgraced former mistress. Additionally, the fact that Melissa did not have a son with the king until a few years after their relationship began may have also served as some reassurance to the queen, Prince Daeron, and Prince Aemon: not only, perhaps, did Melissa appear not to want to replace the queen, but she had no ready would-be heir, as Barba had had, to promote in place of Daeron and strengthen her ambition to create a new royal family.

Naturally, because we know nothing about why Melissa was sent away from court, or what happened to her after, we have no idea how her brief years as the king’s chief mistress affected her life or her socio-political prospects thereafter. I do tend to think that Melissa didn’t live a long life after leaving court, though when and how she might have died is obviously completely unclear. In any event, though, I could see where Melissa’s positive reputation, especially if she died relatively young, might have been preserved at court: the kind-hearted, widely beloved young woman, perhaps driven from the court by those no-good-very-bad Brackens who had then replaced her with a “faithless” mistress. Once King Daeron II came to the throne himself, the new king may have been even more inclined to think fondly of the woman who had treated himself and his late mother and uncle with respect and deference, where few if any other of his father’s mistresses had - “better this mistress than any other”, perhaps, to paraphrase the Queen of France on the subject of her husband’s beloved mistress, Madame de Pompadour. (Naturally as well, once Bloodraven came into power and influence, especially after the First Blackfyre Rebellion, he would likely have done much to promote the positive legend of his mother, especially in contrast to the surviving reputation of Barba Bracken - a legacy that I think will be central to the conflict of “The Village Hero”).

It’s also worth pointing out that while King Aegon’s identified chief mistresses after his ascension seem to have been unmarried young women, this is not to say that the king probably limited his sexual liaisons during his reign only to these individuals. After all, Yandel notes in his overview of Daeron II’s reign that during Aegon IV’s rule, the men of the City Watch of King’s Landing whom the king promoted “made sure that the brothels—and even the decent women of the city—were available for Aegon’s lusts”; I think it’s probably fair to say Yandel likely included “married” in his definition of “decent”. Moreover, while Yandel identified Jeyne Lothston as Aegon IV’s chief mistress after the downfall of Bethany Bracken, the maester-author also suggested that the king “enjoyed mother and daughter together in the same bed”, after Falena Lothston (nee Stokeworth) brought young Jeyne to court (a disturbing rumor, of course, when paired with the additional suggestion by Yandel that Jeyne had been fathered by the king, not Lord Lucas). I fully expect that when we learn more about Aegon IV’s reign (especially given the, ugh, high likelihood of even more unnecessary sexual exploits to be highlighted in Fire and Blood Volume 2), Aegon’s omnivorous sexual desire, including for married women, will be underlined.

#asoiaf meta #aegon iv targaryen #melissa blackwood #mistresses of aegon iv

33 notes · View notes

apenitentialprayer · 8 months

Text

Huh, today I learned that in 1677 the Catholic Church had to condemn the belief in the virgin birth of Mary as a heresy

#Virgin Mary #Anne Mother of Mary #heresy #Catholicism #Christianity

111 notes · View notes

cabinofimagines · 6 months

Text

Last Christmas

First holiday fic coming up! Pairing: Platonic! Bianca and Nico di Angelo x reader Request: Reader showing Bianca and Nico their Christmas traditions? Also yes ik Bianca's not alive, but in this she is (if that's alright ofc) Warnings: None! Ig slight spoiler for the beginning of The Titan's Curse? Word Count: 1.2k - Asnyox

Ever since Bianca and Nico arrived at Westover Hall earlier this year, you’ve slowly been befriending them. Bianca was a little on guard at first, but as soon as you asked Nico to explain the rules of Mythomagic to you he loved you. And Bianca commended you for listening weekly to the multiple hours long explanations that Nico had. Eventually, she had let her guard down enough to talk about her and Nico’s past.

Whenever she brought up that they came from Italy (how cool is that?) Nico grew quiet. He once admitted he didn’t remember a lot from those times, and got fascinated with what Bianca had to say. It was sort of a story time, you learned more about the Di Angelo siblings as time went by, and sure, sometimes things didn’t line up (how could they not have known of the Cold War? The Berlin Wall? They have lived here for a few years now according to Bianca!), but that could not quell your fascination.

That’s why, on December 8th, Bianca sat both you and Nico down to talk about how Christmas in Italy used to go.

“Today is also known as Immacolata Concezione in Italy,” Bianca smiled, “Nico, do you know what that is in English?” Nico squinted his eyes, hesitating a little bit.

“Immaculate … conception?” He asked and Bianca nodded, a proud glean in her eyes.

“Exactly. It’s a celebration of the birth of the Virgin Mary, without original sin.” Bianca nodded, “Normally this is when you would put up the Christmas Tree, and when the Christmas Markets would start.”

“Here some people put up their tree in November,” you sighed, “some even earlier. It’s kinda fun how Italy has a specific date for it.” You smiled, “Did you guys have a specific tradition while putting up the tree? Hot chocolate and peppermints?”

“I’ve never had Christmas peppermints.” Nico looked at you, “What else do you eat for Christmas? Can we get some?”

“I don’t think you need more sugar, Nico,” Bianca interrupted him.

“What do you guys mean? No Christmas crack? Reindeer Chow?” You asked exasperated, “You Christmas must have been subpar. I mean, you never made a gingerbread house? Do Italians hate architecture or something?” You sat up straighter, “That’s it, we’re going to have to break into the kitchen and bake you guys a Christmas.”

───────────

You thought it would be harder to get everything ready for baking. Heck, you even thought you would have to be sneaky about it! Instead, you mentioned it to Grover, a new boy, who had seemed intensely interested in Bianca and Nico, yet scared to approach them. Poor boy, you hoped he would gather the courage soon. As you asked his opinion on escape routes, so you could get the ingredients, he stood on helping instead. And so, two days later, Grover led you to the kitchen.

“How did you manage this?” You asked, amazed at all the ingredients that were present. You even spotted three ugly, holiday themed aprons amongst the food. “A favor here and there,” Grover nervously looked around, “Just try not to leave the building, it’s dangerous.” he looked at you pointedly, until you reluctantly nodded.

“Of course, uh,” You saw Nico and Bianca approach from the end of the hallway, “Do you want to join us?” You offered. Grover quickly shook his head.

“No I uuh-” he stammered, “I have duties- deadlines- uh, yes.” and he took off into the other direction.

“Who was that?” Nico asked, bouncing on his feet.

“Just a friend who helped set this up,” You opened the door and Bianca and Nico gasped.

“What is all this stuff?” Bianca looked at the table, slight wonder on her face.

“Hopefully enough to make gingerbread houses!” You smiled, elated to find pre-baked gingerbread house kits in the middle of the table, “Let’s get the holidays going!”

After you explained the steps of making a gingerbread house, and assuring Bianca that glue would not make the process easier (it would but where is the fun in that?), you got started on the houses. Throughout the decorating you would talk about different holiday traditions you used to have, elaborating there where it was necessary. You supposed they hadn’t celebrated Christmas after getting to the U.S.A., which was kinda weird but you shrugged it off and kept talking.

“I mean, Santa Claus delivers presents all over the world!” You announced giddy, only for Bianca’s eyes to widen as she quickly spoke up.

“Yes, but he gets help by La Befana in Italy, for example,” she laughed awkwardly, “Of course, the whole world by one person would be too much!” You eyed Bianca in surprise, but before you got interrupted before you could ask about it.

“That is so cool!” Nico jumped up, “I had never heard of Santa, but it makes sense!” He smiled widely. Ah, Nico must still believe in Santa, or whoever the Italian Santa Claus is. Nico turned around his gingerbread house, “(Y/n), I already made la Befana but can you make Santa too? I want them both in my house, so I get more presents!”

You looked at Nico’s house, noticing that he made a lady (?) with what is probably a broom. She was standing next to a snowman made out of icing, and there were the smallest penguin looking creatures too. The true stand-out creation was probably the guy, made fully out of yellow icing, holding a staff and having wings on his head. Nico saw you looking, and smiled.

“I also added Hermes! I mean, the messenger god must have been helping with delivering presents too, right?” His excitement was adorable, and you nodded in agreement.

“Of course, how else would anyone manage to deliver millions of presents?” You laughed. You grabbed a peppermint and red icing and went to work on adding Santa Claus to Nico’s house.

───────────

It was getting late, and Nico had already dozed off, half laying on the table. Bianca and you were quietly cleaning up the mess together. As you were leaving, Bianca carrying Nico on her back, Bianca turned to you.

“Thank you, (Y/n).” Her eyes looked sad, but she smiled, “Adjusting has been hard for us, and I’m really happy that we’re friends.” You smiled back at her.

“It’s a delight knowing you and Nico, Bianca.” You petted the boy on her back, “I hope we’ll be friends for many years more, maybe make some Christmas traditions ourselves!”

Bianca smiled, and Nico stirred a little on her back, urging you both to keep walking. Maybe, if things had turned out a little differently, you would have had traditions with the Di Angelo siblings, but as they disappeared from Westover Hall only a few days later, you would never know. You hoped they were alright.

#requests #request #xmas 2023 #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #x reader #readerinsert #gn reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #cabinofimagines #x you #platonic #nico x reader #the titan's curse #admin asja #admin asnyox

57 notes · View notes