Feb 8
"The four Galilean satellites of Jupiter are planet-like worlds." Voyage to Jupiter. 1980.
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"The four Galilean satellites of Jupiter are planet-like worlds." Voyage to Jupiter. 1980.
Internet Archive
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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enter at your own risk 🖤
hi, i’m rosie—this is primarily a jack o’connell, spike fearn, & shawn hatosy blog, though i will absolutely branch out if/when another man starts ruining my life
requests are always open, but there’s no guarantee they’ll be written—i just follow whatever has me in a chokehold at the moment
this masterlist is organized alphabetically by character name below the cut
c = complete
happy reading 🖤
ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 Calisto x male reader
Summary: A Persian prince offered as a peace token, you were now locked away in a tower cell. There’s a Greek soldier in particular who keeps returning, exploiting his father’s friendship with Themistocles to reach you. First seeking informations of the enemies but, little by little, Calisto transforms you, an enemy of his empire, into his own flawless and willing sex slave.
Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. A request that I received. little to no plot and more getting used as a sex slave and loving it. Man handling. Size kink. Degradation. Possessive behavior. Top Calisto. Bottom male reader. Anal sex.
Gifs
ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
Words count: 2000
300: Rise of an Empire (2014)
Actual photo of me trying to decide which Jack O'Connell character I should write for next:
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Calisto (1840)
Richard Rothwell (1800-1868)
National Gallery of Ireland, March 2026
Song of the Nymphs— Calisto x fem!reader
Summary— Calisto is now the man of the house after his father's death, the funeral pyre burning at the same time that Greece won a victory for which he fought. One afternoon he rides away from the Polis, seeking clarity by a small pond, but a noise catches his attention.
Warnings— Nymph!Reader, post-movie (and Greco-Persian Wars), Calisto angst and mama's boy, comfort, this is pretty fantasy but come on Xerxes literally went into magic water instead of dying of dehydration, mentions of war, violence and blood, short fluff smut, greek stuff. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!
Notes— This movie is horrible. I remember watching it when I was more young and just not loving it. But Calisto is very handsome, and I love ancient Greece.
The war was over. The warriors had returned home. And Calisto had returned home to his beloved mother, now a widow.
He was the new man of the house.
There was war in his blood, he was a warrior like his father and his father's father. The responsibility fell upon his shoulders as quickly as his father had his funeral pyre and left his grandfather's shield and sword on the ground. And it weighed on him.
Some nights he would wake up exalted, his heart pounding, remembering his father's face, the moment he received those three arrows that took his life. The death had been avenged, but it did not take away the pain it had left behind, the tears he could not allow himself to shed in the camp.
And the most painful part was seeing his mother cry, seeing her linger in tears as if she were going to dissolve with them and leave him alone. Sometimes Calisto stayed awake longer than necessary and could hear his mother's distant crying, her heart breaking. It consumed him. Themistocles told him that he would now have a place at the table, that he had been brave and strong in battle, that he was a man his father would be proud of. But his mother's tears made all those achievements and victories seem like defeats.
One morning he took his horse, a precious gift that ran fast and was strong, and headed to the outskirts of Athens, deep into the nature in search of peace. The sun beat down on his face, making him squint, the galloping of the horse accompanied by the vast view of the surrounding plains. Callisto moved far enough away to see Athens become a small, distant dot, entering a small area of vegetation with trees and a pond.
Calisto dismounted his horse, letting it graze near one of the trees, while he approached the edge of the pond and sat down, looking at the water. His short chiton bunched around his thighs, his arms resting on his knees as he gazed out at the calm water.
There were no loud sounds, no clashing of spears and swords, no warmth of blood spilled in brutal attacks where limbs were torn off... No, there was only a natural silence. A moment of peace, that peace for which Calisto fought so hard in Salamis and Plataea, the same struggle that also brought his sorrow.
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind for inner silence.
"Oh, gods..."
He stepped back, the feeling of the tall grass prickled his skin but at the same time made him feel alive, his eyes looked at the immense sky where he thought the gods reigned when he was a child— maybe the gods have a good future in store for him, he tells himself.
But a noise interrupted the moment, the sound of his horse and also a low, barely audible melody.
Perhaps out of battle instinct or human nature, he sat down and looked in the direction of his horse, his muscles tensing, his heart beating hard in his chest. He could feel a chill run down his spine and goosebumps rise on his skin when he saw her there, standing with her back to him but attentive to the horse.
Her hair was as long as the current of a still river, and her hands caressed the horse with such gentleness that it seemed unreal. She seemed unreal.
Calisto did not move instantly, no, a part of him was paralyzed at the appearance of that beautiful maiden whose face he had not even seen but he could feel something strange and magnificent in her. He paid attention then, the soft murmur that made him react was, in fact, a song.
The kind of songs that are sung to children or during work, those that only use the voice and no instruments. With each verse that escapes the maiden's lips, Calisto feels drawn to her, almost in the same way that his horse relaxes and falls asleep under her touch.
Being careful not to make too much noise, he stood up and looked at her more closely— she was naked, with her skin cared for and unbothered, adorned with a crown of small leaves. She was divine, not human, and he didn't just speak about her song or the fact that she appeared out of nowhere, no, he felt it.
Before he even made another move, the maid turned her head toward him, her expression changing to surprise and amazement. Seeing her acting uneasy, Calisto could only raise a hand in an attempt to keep from letting her go, but her legs wouldn't move.
"Wait!" he said, his voice coming out like a plea he didn't even believe.
Calisto had already heard stories of men who, upon entering the forests, met beautiful maidens near old trees or ponds, always of exquisite and irresistible beauty— with the rosy cheeks of a virgin and in the flower of their youth. But he never thought he'd be able to see something like this in person.
"Please don't go, I won't hurt you—" he said quickly, moving closer but she took a few more steps away. "What are you? What's your name?"
He got no answers, which made him a little desperate. But he was patient, taking a few small steps closer, raising his hands as a sign that he was unarmed and in a gesture of peace.
"Maiden, you have made my horse tamer than I have ever seen, please let me know your name, you have the most beautiful hair and the most delicate face I have ever seen..."
Another silence, she looked at him attentively for a few seconds before looking at the horse again, carefully she came out from behind the tree where the horse was resting and allowed herself to be seen completely. Calisto would be lying if he didn't feel his insides twist when he saw her. Not only was her face beautiful and her hair sparkled like threads of gold in the sun, she also had the ideal body.
"You're a warrior," she said, reaching up to brush back the hair that fell over her chest. "I can feel it, you have war in your blood... But you also look so sad."
Divine. Calisto had already said it.
"The song you sang, I don't know it," he said quickly, moving closer but she took a step back indicating that he should keep his distance and he stopped.
"Obviously you won't know the song, it's foreign to you mortals."
"Oh."
"You are far from your people, in the wild. What are you looking for here, in my pond?"
"Your pond?" Calisto murmured and looked at the pond where he had just rested in search of peace. "I'm so sorry, maid, if I've offended you. I didn't mean to; I was just seeking silence."
"Silence about what?"
"My father recently died, my mother is heartbroken, and I'm the new man in the house. But my heart still aches from missing him," his eyes pricked at the corners, a hint of tears, his fists clenched tightly but he never took his gaze off that divine maiden.
She didn't give him words of comfort or a solution to his father's death or his anguish, she just nodded and approached him, her long hair swaying in the breeze. It wasn't him who approached; he had no power over her and her unmistakable divinity. He was mortal; she was a nymph.
He saw her stand in front of him at a considerable distance, he saw her face that enriches anyone's vision, her smooth skin, the curve of her figure. He felt weak but at the same time blessed to be able to see her.
"If your father died a hero, he will rest peacefully. Your lives are too short to suffer for the dead, for whom there is no longer any responsibility."
Calisto was speechless; it wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but it came from the mouth of someone superior in this world, and he couldn't refuse the advice.
Noticing the boy's clear discontent and regret, she tilted her head and looked at the pond from which she was born.
"Someday, when you are old and have lived, you will see it again if you were brave in life," she said.
She didn't offer him anything else, she simply walked to the edge of the pond and sat there, her long hair covering him like a blanket, her feet in the water that reflected the sky. Then she began to sing, it wasn't the same melody as before, now it sounded hoarser, more melancholic.
Calisto shuffled his feet until he sat down next to her. He didn't say anything, he just listened to her because he was blessed to be able to hear such a divine voice. The minutes passed, he doesn't remember well what happened between them— she lured him with her song.
First it was a touch of hands that turned into prolonged eye contact, then she kissed him so softly that if he hadn't been sitting he would have fallen onto his knees, the maiden's lips were soft and warm, her breath as fresh as his as they lay on the grass, their feet dipping into the pond.
She undressed him slowly, her touch gave electric shocks through his body lying at her mercy, her hands were extremely gentle and every time she saw a scar she stopped to trace a special one. She rode him and moaned, her warmth was so special, everything about her was special. Calisto remembers moaning without shame, joining his body to hers until he felt it like a combination of flesh and something sacred, between breath and sweat. He thrusts, she receives it, her hands on his chest while his on her perfect hips.
The smell of everything became sweet, the water in the pond was warm now, the sky didn't burn but rather gave a comforting embrace. She rode him until Calisto could feel himself on the edge, tears escaping his eyes before he finished.
Calisto wanted to kiss her skin and mark her with love bites as he lay on top of her after finishing and hugging her, but she wouldn't let him and urged him to return home safely. He understood that she was free, that she would not be marked by him, that beauty would be incorruptible.
He dressed again, looking at her with the expression of someone who falls under a spell and welcomes it with open arms. He mounted his horse and before returning home, she approached him.
She stood admiring him before speaking, then she removed the crown of leaves that adorned her head and gave it to him as one gives the olive wreaths of victory.
"For you, dear Calisto."
"Will we ever see each other again?"
He asked, a genuine question that she denied, though it gave him a slight hope.
"Only if you remain a good man, maybe I'll remember you."
It was very short, but I'm writing it instead of sleeping, so—
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