#nsfw-penmanship

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | part one

“honeymoonin’”

part two | first impressions

A/N: I ehm. May or may not have gotten the inspiration for this bc of a porn channel that I watch 🫣 this is not proofread btw! P.S this is my smutty little treat for y’all b4 I drop chapter 11 of slow hands 🥲

~word count: 1k~

Summary: the morning after your honeymoon with your pornstar husband, Joel Miller

Pairing | pornstar!husband! Joel Miller x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, NSFW, mentions of the porn industry, fluff ,established relationship, husband!joel, intimacy, bush love!!, 30’s reader/40’s Joel , oral (f!receiving) Joel has a big cock (canon) silly vibes, sex tape, pet names, reader has no physical descriptions, +18, minors dni!

You and your husband Joel Miller met through the porn industry. The first time you met him before you were set to film together you were immediately hooked by his southern charm. “Well, hello gorgeous. Ain’t you jus’ the sweetest, n’prettiest thing I’ve ever had the pleasuring’ of layin’ my eyes on. Goddamn. Names Joel, and what might your name be, darlin?’” You told him your name and shook hands. After that initial meeting..You kept things professional, but everytime you did a film with him, your pussy and your heart would flutter. You had never said yes faster in your life than when Joel requested to take you out to dinner one night after a late shoot. Burgers, fries, a milkshake for two, and Joel Fuckin’ Miller’s big cock, and his Texas twang.

Once you and Joel officially started dating, you started your own porn channel together and your videos were a hit. The intimacy and chemistry on camera was never faked, and there was real love blossoming between the two of you. People loved it. There was something about casual, real intimacy that really got your viewers going.

The money earned on the films went straight to buying you an enormous rock to put on your pretty finger. Joel spoiled you in every aspect, and you were over the moon when he asked you to be his wife.

One impromptu wedding in Vegas later, Pornhub paid for your entire honeymoon to the Fiji Islands.

In the middle of the king sized bed was a gift directly from Pornhub with a new camera, toys, lube, and a congratulations letter from some of yours and Joel’s fellow adult filmmakers.

You put that camera to good use immediately.

The following morning you awoke to an empty bed, but a note left on the dresser in your husbands penmanship

Goodmornin’, babydoll. I went out for a run, but I’ll be back in a jiffy. Can’t wait to fuck my wife and then feed ya some fresh fruit, and then fuck ya some more. Oh, and I booked us couples massages later this afternoon! Love you so much, honey.

-Joel xx.

You let out a girlish giggle and kiss the note before setting it down on the nightstand.

When he returns he’s drenched in sweat that seeps through the fabric of his t-shirt that adorns his body in all the right places. He’s got that twinkle in his eye, and that dimple poking out of his cheek that you love so dearly.

“Have a nice run, baby?” You grin at him over the rim of your book as he approaches.

“Mhm. S’gonna be an absolutely gorgeous day out there.” He drawls and watches as you set your book down on the nightstand.

“Yeah? Well, I think my husband should gimme his cock so that we can go out and enjoy this gorgeous day.” You curl your pointer finger inwards in a come hither motion for him to come closer.

“Oh, you want my cock? Hmm..what a temptin’ offer that is, honeybun.” He teases.

“But I want you to strip for me first, Joel. Give your wife a little show.” You wink and reach for the camera on the nightstand and flip it on.

“A strip tease, eh? I think I can handle that.” He chuckles and reaches for the hem of his shirt and slowly pulls it over his head just as your thighs slowly spread open over the comforter and your hand slips down between them to lightly play with yourself.

He grabs the waistband of his shorts and playfully snaps it against the lower part of his stomach with a grin before he slowly tugs it down over his hips. His cock is semi-hard beneath the confines.

“Fuck.” You breathe, “I’m the luckiest woman alive.” You beckon him closer and obliges. He takes his lower lip between his teeth when your soft and warm palm wraps around the underside of his shaft, fondling him gently while you hold the camera steady in your freehand.

“Shit. Y’got that all wrong, sugar. M’the luckiest motherfucker alive with the hottest, kindest, most beautiful wife. Fuck.” He hisses between his teeth.

You giggle softly at his reaction and slowly begin to pump your hand around him and twist your wrist in a corkscrew motion.

“And this cock is all mine, right baby? Fuck, it’s so pretty. I fuckin’ love you and your cock.”

“All fuckin’ yours, sugar plum.” He groans and leans down to slot his lips with yours, slipping his tongue past your mouth in a heated, bruising kiss. His cock grows hard and heavy beneath your soft touch and he pulls away only to climb on the bed on his knees, and grab the underside of your thighs to spread you apart further.

“And this pussy is all fuckin’ mine, ain’t she?” He rasps and looks up at you and the camera that is now angled downwards.

“All fuckin’ yours, baby. And she’s absolutely dripping for you right now.”

“Can see that, honeypie.” He chuckles and nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and bites down playfully. He doesn’t mind the coarse, thick, swirling hair on your pussy tickling the patches on his beard. He fucking loves you in your natural state, and he lets you know it by devouring your cunt whole. He kisses and suckles on your clit like it’s the sweetest candy he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. His jaw goes slack as he laps up your arousal that seeps out of you like sweet honey from a hive. He groans against you, the bridge of his nose buried against the hair on your pubic bone. He inhales your scent, musky, erotic, and all you. He drinks you in, feasts, and feasts while you cry out his name.

Loving Joel Miller came easy, and while he has the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, it’s his ginormous heart that really sealed the deal for you.

When he hears the camera click shut and fall to the unoccupied space on the bed, he grins and continues to eat his favorite fucking meal; you. Until your tugging on the roots of his scalp and reaching down between his thighs to grasp his heavy cock once more and pull him into you.

Fuck your wife like you mean it, Joel.

Don’t gotta ask me twice, sugar.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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[r0-boat]

Lucifer headcanons PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS (Maybe what most citizens of hell think of him? And how they and the kings react when mc gets close to him?) PLSPLSPLSPLSPLS

I'm not confident in my Lucifer headcanon's since I wrote that Lucifer breeding fic but heeeeeere hhhhh

Lucifer headcannons

NSFW&SFW

Lucifer was once an angel and as angels the assistance of God they help make humans and devils so it would make sense that Lucifer one of God's most prized angels would know a fair amount of human and devil anatomy.

Perhaps he became Hell's greatest doctor because he felt guilt of how much useless slaughter he and his brothers did. So, instead of killing, he wanted to help. And his subordinates, supportive of his dream, became healers and doctors with him.

However, he is still the demon of pride, and he wants to be your primary care doctor, and he will not sway his will. The Kings really don't fight him on this because, well, he is the right person to trust with your health.

My most favorite headcanon (and probably the least true, to be honest) is that since his fall, he is slowly learning about sex and sexual attraction. And you are playing a heavy hand on corrupting him, and he loves it. He was a pious angel; though not perfect to many of his brethren, he was considered highly regarded. And now look at him, fucking you till you cry in an act so obscene that it would make his brothers weep. Corruption kink Lucifer. Go brrr.

He wants to corrupt you, just like you corrupt him, but how do you corrupt someone who is already sinful filth/affectionate

Lucifer sees you as the perfect partner to try sexual acts with because he trusts you the most, and he likes you. That goes without saying. Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer is a fast learner. Once you teach him how to pleasure you, the next thing you know, he'll be making you writhe and scream.

Lucifer is a little bitey during sex. Especially when he is about to come, he clenches his teeth before to stop himself from sinking his fangs into your neck, but he can't help it. He needs to feel your soft skin in his mouth. His favorite places to bite are your neck and your thighs, other than your tears and your cum,. Your blood is the third favorite taste.

Lucifer is on the more serious side; jokes tend to bounce off his head. Especially ones made by younger devils... So much so that he gets angry when anyone mentions any word he cannot understand.

As the demon of pride it is his way or the highway. He can break any rule he wants but you, less you want to be a brat (please do He likes to punish). You may not break any rules of his.

Lucifer is as caring and gentle as he is strict; your tears frighten him just as much as it arouses him. He doesn't want to see you cry if it's not from pleasure. His gaze will grow soft, his voice deep and gentle, calling you cooing as he wipes away your tears.

He still has that little bit of animosity toward you He knows it is not your fault. He tells you straight up that it's because he is an angel. Even though most of it is mostly gone, he still gets a slight sickly pleasure from making you cry; He can't help it. He's a little bit of a sadist when he comes to you.

Everyone knows what Lucifer's penmanship looks like but no one can fucking read it. It's a mess of This is the most doctor shit you've ever seen. To you it just looks like an L and a squiggle written in a shimmering gold font (expensive fountain pen gift from Mammon)

Mammon likes Lucifer in a sort of "ooh, that man is pretty; never had an angel in my collection before." Where when Lucifer sees Mammon, it's mainly with Satan, so his first reaction is "God damn it not again."

He still calls you child of Adam or child of man And he still apologizes for it.

Lucifer is quite the romantic despite now becoming a devil, he thinks that hellborn devils should learn that sex is much sweeter when the tension is right. Basically his version of "these youngsters are still young SMH"

Lucifer unironically likes Twilight.

Lucifer texts like he is a character AI bot with perfect English and punctuation. Good luck trying to text him back because he knows nothing about text slang.

You annoy him so much and he loves it. You're so cute please keep pissing him off he'll still love you even when he kicks you out. He literally can't stay mad at you.

He's wondering how the fuck are you still alive You've been wondering that yourself all these years. Maybe that's why you so protective over your health now.

Dads you a lot. "You have to eat this finish your food it's healthy. Blah blah blah- too much screen time is bad for your eyes." "Blah blah blah-humans should get at least 8 hours of sleep Go to bed- blah blah blah." "Stop eating shitty foods and actually cook a decent meal-blah blah blah." at this point, calling him Daddy is becoming less of a joke.

Also Lucifer: buys you chocolates, takes you to fancy dinners.

Lucifer hates being called Daddy. And he hates that he's starting to like it; please stop.

[rippersz]

𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚

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(Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Reader) (NSFW: Cunnilingus, Overstimulation; Fluff) (~1.3K words)

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Brienne held the kindest soul. Always hidden behind a tough exterior, yes, but kind nevertheless. She was so eager to be of service and fight for her honor, for her morals, for her people. Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the best of her ranks. The best of her warriors. Perhaps not as strong as some of the men, but definitely more intelligent. Definitely more lithe. Quick, even in her armor. Brutal, even in her training.

You enjoyed watching from the walls of the castle, looking down at the training grounds with amused eyes as she barked orders and corrected stances and cut down a few arrogant souls with one swift slash of her sword. It wasn’t very funny to her, but sometimes, in the dark of night beneath your blankets, you were able to pull a laugh or two from her tired body. Gossiping about how stupid and oaf-ish some of the men could be, and mimicking their silly deep voices so outrageously that she was forced to wack at your shoulder and roll her eyes in eternal exasperation. You delighted in those moments, especially when you could lean over and push a smooshed sloppy kiss onto her cheek - giggling when she shoved you away and pretended to get sick into her palm. Also a tactic to hide the blush on her face, but you never confronted her about it.

Though it was no surprise, of course, for a woman like Brienne to take her passion for combat into other areas of her life. Her vigor when mounting and riding her horse, the quick sharp movements of her hand and her penmanship, and the way she pulled on her armor without needing help. All done with a certain level of dedication and precision. All done without complaint. You admired those qualities about her, and you told her so often.

You told her so often… when you weren’t being fucked dumb on top of her face. Held by her strong hands. With a dedicated, precision-focused Brienne looking up at you through hooded lashes.

She was flushed and sweating, with the soft baby hairs at her temples slicking back into the rest of her golden locks. Splayed out like a halo on the front of the feathered pillow. She was an absolute vision there, your warrior. Eyes so dark and sharp, watching the way your breasts bounced and your lips parted - swollen from the biting kisses she placed there not too long ago. Something had happened earlier in the day that led to her desperation. The very moment the door to your quarters was closed and locked, those calloused hands were running to your hips and bringing you in. Closer and closer and closer to her, until she nearly ripped the shirt from her head and the dress from your body.

“I’ve missed you,” she huffed into your ear before pressing hot kisses down the line of your neck, trailing her tongue in a delightful little dance across your skin. You were so sensitive for her, and so familiar with being in control, that the loss of it had you losing your courage.

“You saw me- oh gods- e-earlier,” was your whispered response, though it was shoved out of your mouth by the hand that wound itself into your hair and tugged backward.

“I don’t care,” Brienne seethed. “I always miss you.” And the softness that came with such words was only reserved for you. In front of others, she wouldn’t dare, but there were no others there. It was only you, grasping her shoulders, and her, leaning down and walking you toward the bed.

The bed, where she had you falling apart.

The bed, which you could barely see because dear fucking gods her tongue was ruining your senses. It was an eager thing. Absolutely hungry. Running over your clit in perfect circles, flicking and teasing and pulling soft whimpers from your chest. Stroking the flames of your desire, building them up and up and up until they swallowed you whole. From the prickles of heat at the base of your skull all the way to your curling toes and shaking thighs. You were so sensitive, pushing yourself against the wall to stop yourself from losing balance, utterly embarrassed to feel the drool leak out of your mouth as the overwhelming tide of bliss came over you again. And again. And again. Washing away your thoughts, your earthly desires, and leaving a raw woman behind. Shuddering above the wicked mouth of your lover, with her sharp jaw burning in exertion and her sweet brow furrowed, too concentrated to care about her tired muscles. Long fingers kept you pinned, digging into the crease of your thigh and tummy, and her arms flexed with the strength it took to keep you still and open for her. At her dear excruciating mercy. Quivering on top of that handsome face and feeling your muscles clench eagerly when she filled you up with her tongue and moaned. Forcing the warm flutters from your body while she closed those gorgeous blue eyes and lapped at your mess.

“B-Brienne- please!” Your words were slurred and sloppy, mumbled helplessly against the wall. Every part of your body crumbled from the exquisite burn. “Please- ungh- can’t-”

But Brienne didn’t care if you could or couldn’t. The only response you got was a throaty groan and a small quirk of pale, wet lips. Her silent pleasure at your beautiful praise. Her gentle purrs at your eager whines. She was more than willing to drown in you - if only it meant you were satisfied and happy and so tired by the end of it that she wouldn’t have to feel embarrassed about you being the ‘big spoon’. That is, of course, if your arms ever became strong enough to hold her again. It was far too easy to lose yourself in the pleasure she gave, desperate and starved, and when your hands ran to tangle themselves in her soft hair, she seemed to know that just for a moment- you had had enough.

“Dear gods Brienne!” You huffed as soon as her arms pulled you down toward her chest and she had enough leverage to flip you around and put herself on top. “That- I-” a soft whine bubbled up from your throat, swiftly cutting off your words when she leaned down and pressed soft pecks to your cheeks and neck. They were easy and light, so quick and delicate on your skin that they could’ve been raindrops. Your eyes slid closed with bliss. Whatever you were going to say was lost to the feeling of her chest pressing into your own and the sweet subtle hum between your legs.

“Are you alright?” Brienne murmured, shoving her mouth against the space above your heart to grant it the sweetest of kisses.

All you could give her, your darling warrior, was a pleased grunt. You were more than alright. You were loved. Cared for. You were pleasured within an inch of your life and intelligent conversation was far above you then. Perhaps after a warm night together, you’d be able to return the favor in the morning. Though Brienne was never the type of woman to care so much about reciprocation, and the soft amused snort she responded with was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

“Can I- tomorrow- hng.” You stuttered, waving your hand like a white flag in the air. Too tired to bother stringing together a proper sentence.

Brienne’s smile was small and full of pride when she sat up.

“Rest now, love,” she leaned in and swiped her thumb along your cheek, silently admiring you in all of your sensitive glory. “And we’ll see about tomorrow.”

Well. You heard the woman. And there was no need for her to tell you twice.

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Short but sweet. - Rip x

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Tags: @oddball21 @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @opalthefrog @shyladyfan @erablaise-blog @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @lex13cm @sugipla @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @eveymay @one-pining-queer @azu-zu @niceminipotato @syrenacrainn @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @scarlettssub @willisnotmental @gela123 @zillahofviolets-bayolet @the-bearr @amateurwritescm @h-doodles

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[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!　──　hey my darling <3 letter delivery for kaeya and i’d love to have a yandere w/nsfw reply back! any petnames are good with me, i promise <3 letter below the pink!

“To my dearest, Kaeya,

It’s almost shameful how you have me wrapped around my finger. There’s only so much a man can do when you fill my mind, and even in work, I can’t help but imagine what you’d be doing, how you’d let me shower you with all the affection such a jewel like yourself deserves. A day spent without you feels sacrilegious nowadays with how you’ve carved your place into it.

How are you faring back in Mondstadt? It must be a chore with so little to do without me there with you, but I know the wine will always be sweet and the flowers always in their lively beauty (though it can’t compare to yours, I’m sure.) I hope you’ve kept an eye on Diluc: you know how he works himself, so have him take it easy every now and then. He runs the tavern you love so much, after all.

I can’t see you soon enough. May the gods bless me so that I can be back home sooner than I know.

— Your love”

( in a box containing the letter, there’s a bottle of regional wine intricately wrapped with a gold bow, alongside a bouquet and a lace choker. you know i had to do it <3 )

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Subby! Kaeya, no gendered terms for reader, Kaeya calls you "my heart", mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Kaeya, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Phew! He sure replied fast, it's almost as if he knew you were sending a letter to him! :3c Anyways, I wonder what he replied with? ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

In return, Kaeya sends back a box as well, no bigger than the envelope stuck to the top of it. The deep royal blue envelope’s material is glossy and pearlescent, holding it under the moonlight produces a faint shimmer, one that reminds you of his eye.

Upon opening the letter, your senses are greeted by the waft of Kaeya’s perfume, the same one you gifted to him months back when you returned to Mondstadt from yet another arduous work trip. Eyes scanning over the contents of his reply, the words are written in outstanding but legible cursive, impressive penmanship (tsk, always a showoff). His love letter reads:

“Addressed to my one and only,

Much thanks for the presents, my heart. You truly know my tastes, the wine was magnificent and went down smooth, almost impeccable. The only thing that could improve it was if you were there as well. I do so dreadfully miss you too, I find myself sighing whenever I reach out for your hand only to remember you’re away in Fontaine for work. Are you sure I can’t convince you to leave your job? I could take care of you, you’d never find yourself needing anything, other than me, of course.

I digress. Back to the subject at hand, Mondstadt is, well, the same as always. Nothing much to report about. My days are immensely duller without you around, obviously. Diluc’s still not much fun to be around but I suppose he’s been well, so no need for you to… (There’s some words scribbled out here with a squiggly doodled arrow pointing to it, saying “Ignore this! :)”) fret over him at all.

It’s just that… I can’t bear to be away from you, my heart. You say I have you wrapped around my finger but it seems to be the opposite. Since you entered my life, it was as if you were Orpheus: coming to rescue me, but unlike the tragedy, I won’t lose you, and you won’t lose me. Not even the gods above could keep me from you. Not one moment does my mind stray from the thought of you and how I need you close by and the way I can’t bear to… (The words are scribbled out again, this time it’s messier, shaky lines uncharacteristic of his usual neat strokes. Another squiggly arrow points to the dark mass of ink, saying “Ignore this too! :)”)

All I want to say is, we are much closer than you might think, my heart. I’ll keep this short, I’d hate for you to bore of me.

Counting down the days till we truly meet again,

- Kaeya Alberich -

P.S. I have a picture in the box reserved for your eyes only, enjoy ♡”

Removing the lid of the box, a vial on a gold chain catches your eye, it glistens, almost as if beckoning you to wear it immediately. Its contents are a deep red and swishing it around reveals how it clings to the sides of the bottle. Not wine then. There’s a tag hanging from a ribbon tied around the clasp, in Kaeya’s signature handwriting it reads, “So I’ll always be around my heart.” Flipping it around, there’s 2 reddish-brown thumbprints on the back, stamped so that it looks like a heart. 

After putting the accessory on, you move on to pull out a smooth card stock from the bottom of the box. How scandalous. The cavalry captain is shown, knees tucked under him on the bed as he’s clad in lacy white lingerie, hands on the sheets in front of him as his arms push his tits up to accentuate them. A white garter belt wraps around his thigh and fuck, the tip of his cock is peeking out of the sheer ivory fabric, precum already drooling from his slit. The bouquet you gifted him is in the shot as well but what really draws your attention are the dribbles of wine cascading from down his lips to his chest, staining some of the white lace a deep crimson. To top it all off, he’s wearing the lace choker you sent him, how obedient!

However, the more you look at the photograph, the more off putting the atmosphere becomes. The background looks suspiciously like the rooms of the hotel you’re currently staying at. The lighting is the same hue. The furniture matches up too. Everything is strikingly similar, right down to the carpeting. Squinting, you can just about make out the room number on the keys captured in the shot.

It’s the room next door.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[sleepy-fiction]

Aesop Carl x Victor Grantz NSFW

A series of letters between Aesop and Victor detailing their desire for each other.

tgs: NSFW, ejaculations, dirty talk, oneshot, sexting

an: This is incredibly freaky, too freaky. it's a little gross bc both Aesop and Victor cream on one of the letters, but I'm sure none of you would really mind that (yes there are visuals). Enjoy the fic!

>>>>

Dear, Mr. Grantz,

Can you not feel it? My desire for you burns off the pages and beckons you near. Your lovely blond hair, those sweet eyes of yours. Verily, I say, fall for me swiftly. And verily, I profess, my bed will be warm and awaiting you.

Yours truly,

Aesop Carl

the penmanship is pristine, the typical manner Aesop Carl writes; only except a couple 'i's and 't's are not crossed (an unusual manner for Aesop Carl).

Dear, Sir Carl

What has come upon you tonight? Is this about dinner? Surely, I thought you despised me. Your eyes burned me under your ferocious stare, even Miss Lester noticed. But here instead you profess... Strange things. You had too much to drink at dinner tonight...

Tell me. Just tell me.

What do you wish--##//

######// to do##m//

What would you like to do to me?

Eagerly Awaiting,

Victor Grantz

The penmanship trembles. The letter is messy with sentences scratched out and run over. It was as if Victor rewrote his sentence over and over, too embarrassed to send it at first, but eventually overcoming his fear.

Dear, Mr. Grantz

Mr. Grantz, my loins beg for your company. I will lay you beneath me, running those gloved hands that you adore down your body. I will undress you and smother you bare with my hasty lips. My tongue will become your servant, and my lips will only know your praises.

You do not hate this, do you?

Yours Truly,

Aesop Carl

>>>

Dear, Sir Carl

My. ##/. I was not aware you thought of me like this. Neither was I aware of this side of you.

Dear me. // Sir Carl, you. What else. What else will you do to me.

Eagerly Awaiting,

Victor Grantz

The letter is crinkled, and the handwriting is rushed.

Dearest, Victor Grantz

I will touch you; ignite you erect under the moonlight. I will taste you from your beginnings to your peak. I will introduce myself to your perky bosom and nip them until they stand alert and sore. I will familiarize myself with your walls, and create a map of your insides with my fingers. Sin itself will become my name, and evil are my intentions with you. Even now, I am stiff from writing these things alone. This is utter blasphemy, but you were never religious, were you?

Eternally yours,

Aesop Carl

The words are closer together, written with quick, rough lines. He's passionate, and Victor's aware of this shift.

Dear, Sir Carl

Sir Carl. Sir Carl.

No words can describe what I am feeling. I'm sorry. I.Aesop, I cannot create a good enough response for you.

######///-/##_

###=//me.

I am sorry for these subpar letters. I have an inquiry to make, and I pray that you spare me of your judgment. Mr. Carl, will you put your .

penis inside of me?

Eagerly Awaiting,

Victor Grantz.

>>>

Dear, Victor Grantz

You amuse me so.

Yes, my dear duckling, I will. I will thrust so deep inside of you until you become undone until your throat has no choice but to voice your squeaks. My filthy penis alone could cure you from your eternal silence; and now knowing this, would you like a taste?

Not a lot of men are aware that they, too, can be pleasured like women. How does my dearest duckling know? Do tell me, Victor, do you play with yourself down there? Tell me how you do it. Tell me how you like to be pleasured.

Eagerly Awaiting,

Aesop Carl

>>>

Dear, Mr. Carl

Aesop, it would be no use to detail my self-pleasurerituals. We cannot see each other. yet. You know the rules. Don't torture me, I have always been faint of heart. I have awoken now, and it's uncomfortable to sit still. My feet long to run to you, and I pray you to do unto me all the manner of things you have written here. Even more than that.

I want to be exasperated beneath you. I cannot restrain myself any longer.

Let me get a taste, cure me of my eternal silence. Take pride that my first words will be your name.

Mr. Carl, I am touching myself.

Victor's penmanship is rushed now, the words are closed together and the strokes are intense. Much like Aesop, he's succumb to his passion. [note: Victor is still mute, they're just talking freaky]

Dear, Victor

You poor little duckling. It's foul manners to not sign off on a letter. Have I riled you too intensely? That you have forgotten your virtue, that you have defiled your very calling as a postman?

You amuse me. Touch yourself slowly, no matter how much you squeal. As you ride your high, speed it up. This is the manner I have been pleasuring myself as I write. I will spill my semen on these pages. Do not think for a moment that I will not.

Dearest Victor. Though this manner confines us, it will not. for long. IWillDevour you.

My d \\\---

uckling.

Eternally Yours,

Aesop Carl

The letter has a single shot of cum laying in the middle of the page. Without even reading it, it's the first thing that's noticeable in Aesop's letter. It was smeared while it was folded soaking up the page around it and leaving an interestingly sticky sensation as it was opened. Aesop's pen seems to swerve off the page, the handwriting jagged and dangerous. But his next word is written back pristine, such as his closing. Victor knew, Aesop reached his climax while writing the last word.

Oddly, Aesop found his letter was returned to him corrected with a red pen. And even more strangely, more unexplainable spots were returned with the letter.

[sl-ut]

months apart

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader 

description: aemond was less than happy when y/n was married off. now that he has her back, he’s decided that he’s never going to lose her again. (reader is the daughter of an unnamed oc–the younger daughter of viserys and aemma).

warnings: nsfw (no smut), swearing, mentions of death, incest (its hotd what do you expect)

words: 2.2K

date posted: 13/11/22

valyrian translations at the bottom

The sky was painted red, like the stone beneath his feet. 

A coincidence? Most definitely, though it certainly felt symbolic when he thought of the red that had tinted the snow just outside of Winterfell eight days prior, and he found himself wondering whether or not the same sky hung above her own head thousands of miles north. He could only picture her, a young widow in all black beneath the bloody heavens; The vision of a true Targaryen. He longed to lay his eye on her once more–the months had passed slowly without her by his side, and now she would return to him as if she had never left.

He’d smiled when he received her letter, and laughed as he read it. The wedding had been painful for him, watching her take a husband in his own home, watching him take her to their marital bed and mount her gently, as one might with a maiden (though she was no maiden, which he took great pride in). He beat a man half to death that night, only stopped by Ser Criston, and he silently wept the evening after he had watched her disappear into her wheelhouse and over the horizon. Then, her letter reached him in the months following, and he laughed at the news that her husband had not only been killed, but had been butchered on his route back from the nearby brothel. He hadn’t been worthy of her, and he never would be.

She spoke fondly of him in her letters, assuring Aemond that he was kind to her and never seemed to grow angry with her. She told him that he was a good man, though not as good of a husband as she might have dreamed of, as he spent many nights in the brothels, and when he did come to her bed, he was usually so intoxicated that he could not perform his husbandly duties. She also assured him of her regular consumption of moon tea, writing in fine penmanship that, I would bear no man’s child but yours, my Aemond, to which his breeches tightened as he rushed to find some ink and parchment to write out a passionate response.

“Aemond,” His mother spoke firmly to grasp his attention, “Have you been listening?”

He turned to glance over his shoulder at her, though he did not pretend to care, “Yes, mother.”

She sighed, clearly understanding the fact that he certainly hadn’t been, but continued on anyways, “In three months time, Princess Y/n will finish her mourning period in Winterfell and will take her leave. Princess Rhaenyra has insisted that her niece spend time with her in Dragonstone before returning to the capitol, which the King has insisted upon.”

“Why must she?” He demanded, turning entirely to face her, his silver locks sliding over his shoulder majestically, “Our sister is welcome to visit if she so please, but there should be no need to extend the princess’s journey from one dreadful place to another.”

Otto Hightower scowled as he watched his grandson’s clear displeasure, “There is little need to do so. In light of the king’s current condition, it would be in the best interest of the realm to prevent any unnecessary conflict in his presence. Princess Y/n will spend four months in Dragonstone with her aunt before she returns to King’s Landing.”

Aemond scoffed, rolling his shoulders as he stood straighter and stared menacingly down at his grandfather for a moment before pushing through the doorway and rushing off to his own rooms. 

Of course Rhaenyra would steal her away. She was possessive of their niece, being the only child of her twin sister, who tragically passed of the sweat three months after giving birth. She coddled her, promising that she would always be welcome at court when she became queen–yet another thing that Aemond felt he was being robbed of. Rhaenyra made it clear to everyone that she was unhappy with the close nature of the relationship between her niece and brother, and was very pleased to see her married into a powerful ancient house to a kind man, despite the fact that she would be so far away. If Rhaenyra had it her way, Y/n would arrive on Dragonstone and never leave, perhaps even marry her off to either Jacaerys or Lucerys if it meant that she was kept out of Aemond’s reach. He would die before either of those bastards lay a finger on her precious flesh. 

He received a letter from her upon her arrival in Dragonstone, smiling as he broke the seal and read her detailed account of the journey. He grinned when he read her words, I count the days until we meet again, my love, and he found his fingers hurriedly unlacing his breeches as he read over and over again, and I count the seconds until I am returned to my rightful place in your bed. 

Four months passed even slower than those before it, and Aemond awaited anxiously each day to see any sign of his beloved over the horizon. His mother scolded him for doing such, insisting that he could spend his days doing something more useful to both himself and the realm, while Aegon teased him endlessly for being so caught up in her skirts. The days when it rained or was simply too foggy, he spent in the training yard or riding Vhagar, though there were very few moments when his mind slipped from her oncoming arrival. 

And then, as he forcefully struck down yet another stable boy, pridefully unarming and throwing him to the hard earth of the training yard, horns blared. His ears perked at the sound, his blunted blade dropping from his grasp as he made haste back to the Red Keep, where he would make himself clean for her–how could he face his love in such a state of filth?

When he was cleaned, dressed in a soft velvet doublet, and scented with a spiced cologne that he was sure she would like, he found himself anxiously pacing the length of the front gate. His family soon joined him, as well as most of the more important courtiers as the gates opened, allowing a short parade to enter before a large wheelhouse rolled in. 

Aemond wanted to shout in displeasure as handmaidens began to file out of the carriage, wishing them to simply hurry up so that he might be graced with the pleasure of her appearance for the first time in just over a year. He wanted to beat away the guards who aided them, to push through the crowd and find her himself, to damn each of the worthless souls who were unfit to be in her presence, to–there.

His chest tightened as he found her amongst the crowd. Her hair was braided away from her face in a style he’d never seen her wear before, and she continued to wear black silk in mourning for her late husband, which he frowned at. Her eyes locked on him, flesh darkening as a blush took over her. 

“Granddaughter!” the king announced, feebly stumbling forward to greet her. She caught him in her arms, though she allowed him to present himself to be the one holding her up, not the other way around, “I was so very sorry to hear of the death of your husband. You would have made a wonderful Lady of Winterfell, but alas, my heart sings with joy to have you returned home.” He lifted his gloved hand to her cheek, “You mirror your mother more than ever before.”

Alicent stepped forward, a hand grasping her husband’s arm gently, “Princess, I hope your travels were well.”

Y/n smiled tightly. She had always been courteous with her step-grandmother, though she had been influenced by her aunt’s displeasure with her, especially after the conflict at Driftmark that had resulted in the loss of Aemond’s eye. 

“Yes, Your Grace,” She spoke clearly, “Winterfell was quite beautiful, but I’m afraid I am not quite built for the cold. The journey only allowed me to get used to the warmth once more.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Viserys chuckled, leaning forward to kiss her forehead joyously, “A dragon need not readjust, fire is in your blood.”

“Come,” Alicent extended her arm to her husband, “The king must rest, and you must be dreadfully tired from your journey. Ser Criston will take you to your chambers.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Y/n curtsied, her eyes glancing over across the bored expression of Aegon, the dazed stare of Helaena, and finally the longing stare of Aemond. She could not continue down the line to little Daeron, as the singular violet eye narrowed at her, a nonverbal signal for her to go with Ser Criston. She nodded at him slowly before turning towards the knight and allowing her ladies to tug her along into the palace. 

Aemond dined early that evening. He waited impatiently in his chambers for the sun to go down. His fingers itched to rush to her chambers, to kiss and touch her, to love her and give her the children that he knows that she has long awaited. He longed for her time of mourning to come to an end–though he would argue that her husband was hardly worth mourning–and to take her as a wife. Finally, he could not wait any longer, and found himself sliding through the hidden passage from his rooms to hers, discreetly pressing himself into the wall behind a narrow tapestry.

Her ladies were buzzing about the room, putting her things away and preparing her for bed. Aemond narrowed his eye in the darkness, allowing it time to adjust before he began to search the room for his beloved, who he easily spotted near the fire, hair damp from the bath and dressed only in a robe made of fine green silk. He admired the slope of her neck, the shape of her lips, and the curve of her nose. He missed being granted the opportunity of gazing upon her beauty, and if he had it his way, he would never lose that pleasure again. 

She glanced at her ladies, smiling gratefully at them as one offered her a goblet of wine and tentatively taking a sip, “I wish to go to bed now, you all may go.”

He watched as they filed out of the room, staying in his place in the shadows as the door closed shut and eyeing her as she downed the rest of her wine. 

“You may come out now.”

He smirked as he finally crept out of the shadows, eagerly pouncing on the chance to view her in plain sight, “Green suits you, niece. Much more than black.”

She chuckled, glancing over her shoulder at him, “I am in mourning, uncle. Or have you forgotten that I have become a widow?”

“Forgotten?” He scoffed, pouring himself a cup of wine and carrying the pitcher over to refill her cup, “I have celebrated every day since.”

She hummed in response, “You should not speak ill of the dead. He was kind to me, a good man. He was–”

“He was a cunt,” Aemond knelt before her, “Unworthy of you.”

“And who is worthy?”

“No one,” He murmured, “Not even myself, and yet the gods bless me with your affections.”

The prince slid his hand up her calf, fingers caressing her flesh gently as she set her cup aside, taking his hand within her own. Heat sparked beneath her touch, leading him to glance back up at her. Her gaze was warm, longing for him in a manner he had never experienced.

“Funny, isn’t it?” She glanced down to her lap, “It has been just more than a year since we’ve last sat in the same room, and yet it feels like a lifetime. How we’ve changed in these months.”

“Se yet nyke zālagon syt jeme keskydoso,” He kissed her knee, setting his own cup aside to stand before her, using his grip on her to help her do so as well, “This year has been painful for me.”

“To me, as well,” She grinned, “Eman missed ao.”

She pushed up on her toes to nudge his nose with her own, coyly pulley back as he leaned closer and growled at her. 

“Do not tease me, my love,” He whispered to her, “I wish nothing more than to take you to bed and fuck you until morning. Do be warned, I will not be so eager to allow you rest, I have waited a year for you.”

She exhaled, lips brushing his, “I would be otherwise disappointed.”

He grinned, eye closing as their foreheads rested against one another. Finally, after months of longingly waiting for her letters, restraining himself from flying north and stealing her away, and relying on the pleasure of his own hand, he could have her. And he was sure that this time, he would not let her leave. She would be his bride.

For the first time after months apart, their lips came into contact, pushing together furiously as her robe slipped off of her shoulders, and his hands eagerly led her to the bed, sure to make good of his words.

translations: 

se yet nyke zālagon syt jeme keskydoso – and yet i burn for you all the same

eman missed ao – i have missed you

[ken-dom]

Keyboard Smash

Steven Wingdings x afab!reader

1k words

∘₊✧ Summary: fonts drive him crazy in more ways than one.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: this is the drabble I was toying with writing… don’t @ me! This was entirely encouraged by the usual suspects, and I simply couldn’t resist

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: nsfw, rough sex, dubious consent, slightly creepy vibes including a storm, very silly, probably classed as a crack fic if it wasn’t also pure smut, crying, meltdowns, font kink

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Your fingertips tapped the keyboard, the little squares clicking the letters into being on the screen before you.

You knew he would disapprove of this font, but it was easy on the eyes and you always managed to write more when you used it.

You could always change it afterwards. He would never need to know. What’s the harm?

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms and sighing, tired but so close to finishing up.

You relaxed into your seat, amused by the eerie atmosphere in the room. The bright white light of your computer screen provided the only illumination in the room, aside from the occasional forks of lightning lighting up the night sky through your window. You smiled. He’d probably like that.

And with a loud clap of thunder and another dramatic flash of lightning, he appeared behind you, his shadow flooding your desk with darkness. It was as if he materialised out of nowhere. You jolted up, spinning around in your chair to see him standing behind you, furious and dripping with rainwater.

He didn’t say a word at first, his piercing blue eyes fixed on your screen, carefully taking in the words you’d written. And the font. Oh fuck. The font.

‘Comic sans,’ he muttered under his breath, taking his glasses off to wipe them clean of raindrops and place them delicately back on his face. ‘Comic fucking sans?’

‘I intend to change it when I’m done, but-’

‘Spare me!’ he roared, falling to his knees before you. ‘You’re writing a masterpiece like that in comic sans?! It’s tainted. I’ll never unsee it. You actively clicked on the font drop down, scrolled to C, and selected it, knowing how it would look!’

He was practically sobbing at this point.

‘I- I’m sorry, Steven, at least it’s not Pap-’

‘Don’t speak its name in front of me!’ he screeched.

‘Why don’t we just change the font right now, hm? What do you like? Times New Roman? Calibri?’

‘You can change it, but I’ll never unsee that hideous clown scribble!’ he wailed.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ you offered, beginning to feel at a loss, until a stroke of genius struck. Or so you hoped. ‘Here, how about-’

You turned back to the computer, highlighting the entirety of your work and choosing a new font. Something that would throw him off. Bring him back to you.

There was one you’d never used that caught your eye with its name alone; Satisfy. It seemed like it would be awkward to write in and more appropriate for titles, but it’s cursive style and sensual name immediately got your attention — perhaps it would get his too.

You read over some of your work while you waited for him to finish up his dramatics. It looked a little bit like his handwriting and you smiled at that, wondering if he’d actually copied it for his own penmanship.

Another flash of lightning and he was up again, his hand at your shoulder, warm and caressing.

‘Oh?’ he breathed.

You didn’t speak. Not yet. You let him take it in, biting your lips together in anticipation as he looked over you.

‘Oh, that’s very nice, that’s- mmh…’

‘See? That’s better,’ you smiled, pleased with yourself at having calmed him.

‘Over the desk,’ he instructed, low and commanding. ‘Now.’

You stood, heat flooding to your core at the suddenly seductive tone of his voice, and began to move the keyboard away for space, but a big, strong hand wrapped around your wrist and pinned it to the desk.

‘No. Leave the keyboard. I want to see our work.’

Excited, you propped yourself above it, while he made quick work of unfastening his trousers and sliding yours down, his elegant fingers immediately flying to your folds, circling your clit and ghosting over your slick entrance.

‘Mmh, soaked… you like it too?’

In all honesty you couldn’t say you had ever been aroused by a font. But then you’d never had a screaming, crying meltdown over one either. You guessed his reaction to Satisfy must have been as strong as his reaction to Papyrus had been all those weeks ago when you’d dragged him inside off the road, wet and shaking.

‘Yes,’ you agreed, not wanting him to stop.

Much to your disappointment, he did stop, but only for a moment; the next, he slammed his cock into you hard, stretching you open and driving his hips in sharp snaps against you whilst his free hand pushed your head into the keyboard.

An assortment of random letters and numbers burst onto the screen, displaying more of that delicious font, and he whined desperately.

His other hand snaked around your belly and to the apex of your thighs, rubbing furiously at your sensitive nub, making you squirm back against him. It was too much and not enough all at once, and you were ready to explode.

‘Say it,’ he cried hungrily, ‘say it!’

‘Satisfy!’ you moaned, not even needing to sex up your voice in the slightest. The font might not turn you on, but he did, and his request for you to say its name opened the floodgates into a string of needy moans.

Feeling you begin to clench around him, it took only a few more ragged thrusts and he emptied his release into you with force, a guttural growl echoing around the room while you milked him of all he had.

He collapsed, weak and groaning, on top of you, heavy breaths loud in your ear as he withdrew his length, carefully tucking himself back into his trousers and standing as soon as he was able.

‘Keep up the good work,’ he praised you.

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving you limp over the desk, leaking your combined juices onto the floor, Satisfy leaving a long trail of F’s and C’s and D’s in the space beneath your work where you were still pressed against the keyboard.

‘Comic fucking sans,’ you whispered, laughing to yourself as you peeled off the keys. ‘I’ll give him Satisfy.’

[v3nusxsky]

Dont tempt me| NSFW

——————————————————————————

Authors note~ here’s some content for my lovely lady lesso. This could be absolutely poor quality as I'm exhausted and it will not be proof read so I apologise for any mistake but they are all mine :)*

Trigger warnings ~ dom/sub begging fingering oral overstimulation accidental mommy kink praise kink degrading kink

Prompt~ "fuck you" ... "would you?"

Since the merger of the school for good and the school for evil, the environment has been reflecting the mood swings of a teenager. Good and evil now learning to co-exist and lean on each other. Baby steps of course. That's where you come in. You were hired to teach literature for both Evers and Nevers. One of the first teachers to have a mixed class. Yet you were thriving. Your students seemed to bond well with you, rather engaging in the lessons as you tried to cater to everyone's interests while sticking to the curriculum. It was truly magical to see the students slowly but surely not want to kill each other. You hadn't been brave enough to assign any mixed group work projects yet tho. That for sure would cause bloodshed, not particularly something you wanted to deal with in your first semester.

With the Evers, professor Dovey stood with them. Her beauty and pristine gracefulness shone through her joyous personality. Truly a joy to be around. Should anyone ever need cheering up, you'd definitely send them to Dovey. Clarissa Dovey, Dean for good used her powers to comfort struggling students the most. Instantly you could spot how certain students would seek her out in a room. She made them feel safe. A smile and a hug could go a long way.

Then there's her counterpart, Lady Leonora Lesso, Dean of evil. Now imagine the complete opposite of Dovey. Yep that's her. Quite a complex human. That's what drew you in if your truly honest. She's so guarded, you just want to know more. Often you could find her staking the halls like a fox hunting it's prey. Despite the merger, students still feared her. You'd heard stories of a doom room. One with some rather interesting attributes. Although probably not the desired effect of the room, you ached to visit, to just experience it one time. Two consenting adults could have so much fun in there. The thought causing a flush to adorn your cheeks. She was a coworker for heavens sake. The thoughts of becoming Lesso's prey only grew with time. Little did you know, you were quite the curious creature to the red head. She longed to clip your innocent white wings, and watch you fall under her spell. This is what leads you to the current moment.

The past few weeks had become some what of a game between you and the dean of evil. It all started when she interrupted a lesson of yours as you were teaching one of your favourite Shakespearean plays. Macbeth. The particular passage where you were asking your class to asses her body language and what that implied. Lesso smirked and offered to give a real demonstration for the students. "After all some students learn visually isn't that right Miss y/l/n"

She revealed in your reaction, immediately starting the cat and mouse game. Or rather the fox and her dove. Pay back had been sweet, of course you had to be mad to challenge Leonora but still you did so anyway. This is exactly what lead you to her office after hours. You should be marking your students essays on Lady Macbeth however, a black raven swooped in, narrowly missing your head while dropping a piece of parchment before leaving again. You carefully untied the bow and instantly recognised the neat cursive penmanship.

Does my dove give up? I've been eagerly awaiting your next move. I expected more of you y/n. At least give me a challenge.

The fox.

As you read you could practically see her lips curling up into her famous smirk. She signed it as the name you'd accidentally given her. In a lesson you had with first years you we're discussing a descriptive words to describe a fox. Only when a few students began to give answers such as "sly" "sneaky" "feisty" "stealthy" did one student stutter "lesso." You couldn't help but agree. She did rather match the description so you wrote it with the rest. At that moment you heard a chuckle. The fox herself stood in your doorway. "Miss y/l/n, you think I'm a fox? Then what are you? The innocent dove?" She taunted you watching the blush appear that you desperately tried to fight off. "Lesso, how lovely of you to join us. Did you need something?" You deadpanned hoping to avoid the feelings stirring in you at the pet names.

You definitely had feelings for the women. But she was infuriatingly untouchable. No matter your best attempts you couldn't achieve the level of flustering her that she did on you. Which is why you decided to get brave. Parchment in hand you stormed your way down to Lesso's office. Anxiety rolling off you in waves at your plan. You were most definitely going to get killed. But death by her stunning hands? Well worth it.

When you arrived at her door you bypassed knocking and just waltzed in. The women sitting at her desk busily working away. She didn't even spare you a glance as you entered. "Now dove what are you doing in here?" She mumbled seemingly very uninterested in your presence. Her eyes never stopped scanning her work and he quill scribbling down words in her beautiful cursive penmanship.

"What is this game lesso? Is it anything to you? Just fun. Why do you keep messing with me during my lesson times. What was with the raven? Miss me that much huh" you were spiralling, desperate for some kind of reaction. "Maybe I'm making you wait fox maybe I'm busy" you finished eyes blaring with determination.

"Miss y/n I'm rather busy-" she tried only to be cut off by you approaching her and crushing your lips to hers in a bruising kiss. Waiting for the moment she was desperate for more. Only then to pull back and completely remove yourself from her. "Oh such a desperate fox" you taunted her watching the frustration and desire fight for control.

"Fuck you dove!" She all but growled at you her breathing heavy.

"Would you?" You retorted unsure where this brass neck of confidence came from. Her eyes darkened in response as she leapt up and stalked towards you. Instinctively you moved backwards until you were pressed between the wall and the fox. Her grin almost sadistic, eyes black with desire. A embarrassing squeak drew from your body as she roughly claimed your lips as hers. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip. The cooper taste mixed with the taste of her causing a low whine to leave you.

Pulling away to gain air, she kissed nipped and sucked all over your neck. The dark purple blemishes already showing. All you could do is whine and whimper at the sensations and desperately pray your legs would hold you up. "Some innocent dove you are" she sneered after a particularly low whine left you as she nipped your pulse point, "such a response slut for me hmm" she all but cooed.

"Please" you begged not knowing if she'd comply. Completely at her mercy was not what you had planned for the night. With that you were lifted into her arms and carried to her bed. Immediately her hands working to rid you of your dress. Desperate for more skin to explore. Months of pent up desire finally coming to head. She moaned out in approval once you were stripped bare and laid out for her. Her hands trailing all over your skin. Feather light and teasing. Hickeys now adorned your neck and the tops of your breasts. Her mouth creating more bruising while her fingers stroking your breast with one had and pinching the bud with the other. Moans were flowing more freely now. But as nice as it was, it wasn't enough. Your hips jerked up in a silent plea. This was torture. You needed her. And now.

However your plea was ignored, simply moving her hand to pin your hips to the bed. You whined in response to her denial of your unasked question. "Now now dove, be a good girl and you'll get what you want. You want me to touch you hmm?" She husked out still completely enthralled with brushing your pale skin. All you could do is nod and try to be patience.

"If you want me to make touch you then I need words my slut" she purred loving how you were responding to her. Who would've knew you would be like this? Some meek little English teacher, not an ever, but not a never but a secret little minx. That fact only adding to the attraction and infatuation lesso has with  you.

"Please, please Nora I -" a moan broke your sentence off as she immediately moved her hands to your soaked folds just teasing never fully giving you anything. "Nora?" The smirk on her lips showing you she liked the nickname. "I wonder how many times you've screamed that with your own fingers between your legs wishing they were mine." She mused out loud before bringing her lips to taste you. Your aching core was dripping and the taste absolutely Devine. Her self control dwindled as she lapped you up like fine wine.

Your orgasm building faster than normal, you were no use anymore. All you could focus on his the pleasure the fox was giving. Feasting on you like there was no tomorrow. Your bundle of nerves reviving the attention it craved. "Please please fuck please I need" you whimpered as you teetered on the edge of pleasure.

"You may dove. That's my good girl hmm. Such a good slut" and with those words she continued eating you like there was no tomorrow. Lapping up every drop of your essence as you tumbled off the edge and into the pools of pleasure. A whine of surprise left you as you realised Lesso wasn't done with you. Her mouth still working diligently between your soaked thighs.

"Fox i fuck what?" Your train of thought completely lost as two fingers were thrusted into your core. Immediately your walls reacting to squeeze the life from them. Fuck this women was going to kill you. She set her own brutal pace as she finger fucked you soaking in every delicious sound you made. Watching as you screwed your eyes shut and flung your head back in pleasure. The whimpers were nearly constant now. All you could do is lay there and mewl at her administrations like a cat in heat.

"Oh fuck mommy!" You all but screamed as another gush of white hot pleasure tore through you. How many orgasms had you had now? Honestly you'd lost count, all you knew was your body called for her. You didn't even know what you said until you felt her withdraw the fingers that has been bringing you pleasure. "Mommy? Oh what a little minx you are young one" she teased as you stumbled over an apology. Why did you say that. God but it had felt so good.

"No no dove don't say sorry I like it."she reassured before going back to business. Her touch was killing you. It was all too much now. You're tired battered body couldn't handle another orgasm but lesso seemed sure on forcing another. She'd rip it from your body despite the fact your exhausted. She wanted one so she'd get one. "Mommy! Please I can't! N-no m-more " you whined. Feeling the familiar feeling of the edge once more.

"You can and you will pretty girl. I want you to cum for me" and with that you tumbled over the edge with a scream of pleasure "mommy! Oh fuck god I"

The room feel silent oddly quick besides the unstable breathing from you both. Did you just? A quick peak confirmed it. You'd passed out. She'd fucked you so well your body physically couldn't handle it and shut down. The fact filling her with an unmatched sense of pride. Quickly but gently, Leonora set to work cleaning you up, carful knowing you would be sore before shifting you into her bed and wrapped the covers over you. Despite not actually being pleasured that was something that Lesso would treasure forever. In fact she wanted more. You were hers now. Her dove and she your fox.

Word count ~ 2118

*Authors note~ I haven’t wrote for lady lesso before but I’m obsessed with her character so I may write some more for her*

[javaghoul]

TG Character's Writing Love Letters

Akira

Emails are more efficient; do they count?

Akiras' love-email(?) is going to be direct, full of backhanded compliments, and highly unromantic. Unless you are into that kinda thing

It'll likely start off with "I find emails to be more efficient than a letter..."

Has performance appraisal vibes. Luckily, before hitting send she removes the "areas for you to work on" part

Naki

Ha ha ha let's take a cheap shot at TG's #1 reading champ 🙄

But seriously, if you think a mere love letter is what Naki needs to make his intentions known, then the joke is on you

Just ask Miza; they have 754 kids

Fella is doing something right

Ayato

If you're lucky, you'll get a text with a 😉 emoji

If you're lucky and he's tired, he'll accidentally use the ❤️ instead

Nishiki

Dark horse - he's good

During his absence from Kimi, he wrote numerous letters which he never posted

He kept a couple, which he gave to Kimi when the world started going back to normal

Anyway, the letters were not only lovey dovey, but unbearably sad

He can express himself extremely well when he wants to. He doesn't use flowery words or flattery. His letters are honest and heartfelt

Eto

Her letters are much like her novels: open for interpretation

Saucy though

Tend to lean towards being dark, moody, and almost hostile?

They're handwritten (she has beautiful penmanship btw)

Eto enjoys writing them as much as she enjoys seeing the recipient reading them... Even though they can't see her

Hide

In a word: cute

It's not going to be something that rivals Shakespeare, but it does 🌟rhyme🌟

Just about

Very sweet, simple, and makes you smile

Written on the back of a Big Girl flyer

Kaneki

Ken is a talented writer... When he's thinking about what to write

When it comes to it, he bottles it and turns to books

He'll find a passage that describes his feelings completely and copy it out

"You asked me how I feel about you, well this is it..."

Uta

If he's writing one in the first place, he's likely screwed up somewhere

It won't be asking for forgiveness or apologizing, but it will say how he is a slightly better person for you being in his world

Uses a lot of imagery, especially when describing what he'll do to the world if you and he are not a couple in it anymore

Yomo

Smiley face on a post-it note guy

I don't think his literacy is the best, which puts him off writing

Which is a shame because his would be similar to Nishiki's

So yeah, smiley face on a post-it note which turns up sporadically on mirrors, or the side of a coffee mug the morning after

May add a "you look beautiful sleeping" if he's in full wordsmith mode

Shuu

Of course he is on this list, duuuuuh

His letters are extra af

He has the vocabulary, the culture, the creativity, to turn letter writing into a full-sensory experience

Which is precisely what he does

Hand written (in fountain pen, handmade paper), and the ink corresponds with the mood he wants to convey

Very poetic. Flows well. Also NSFW

11/10 contains half a pound of rose petals in the envelope

[signedeclipse]

Gyokko anon back to tell you you are not stupid, or at least not anymore stupid than the baseline human stupidity in all of us lolol. And with a request! That I shall carefully ask this time! If you're okay with doing things with a kinda yandere bent, I'd like to request secret admirer HCs for Gyokko (NSFW or SFW, up to you) who sends you the most romantically artistic letters and vases (that you love), but when anybody else comes to make a move on you, well, it's a good thing he sent you so many vases. Great for sucking away competition. Expand on this as you like or not, and thanks again for the prev req: have a good one! 😄

Gyokko [X Reader]

In which Gyokko is willing to sacrifice the world to have you entirely to himself.

Unlike what other demons might act like, Gyokko understands that any human would be off put by his appearance, mostly through experience

And while it didn't matter to him what others thought, the night he saw you he vowed he could never show himself to you

Until he knew you'd accept him

I mean, of course you would! You are perfect, and he knows you'd never do anything to hurt him, but he has to be understanding too, he wants to be just like you

Though, you would never send novel length love letters to anyone, or watch others sleep through their wide bedroom window, or know someone better than they know themselves

But he believes that's because you haven't met him yet, you haven't had a taste at true love, otherwise you'd be the same

The letters you get from him are extremely skilled in penmanship, cursive but not too fancy, just enough that you can read it as smoothly as silk

They tell you everything new they notice with you over the past month, what inspired the pot the letter came with, and everytime one fact about the writer

He was happy to see you kept every single one, and didn't seem to put off by it

You dusted his pots once a week like clockwork, wiped them down once every three months, and soaked the inside once a year just like he told you how

So clearly you cared as much about his passion as he did

But his pots weren't only to test your passion, they were to protect you and so he could get inside without much fuss

Gyokko knew you were looking for him, and on one occasion a man had lied about being him, he was in fact a potter, but he was no Gyokko

He even saw him going through your things, and had almost bust right through the door those nights he even so much as raised his voice at you

So of course, when you stepped outside to grab something, he painfully pulled the man into his pot, making sure it had an extra thin opening

Oh the cracks, the sprays of blood into his pot, he made sure not one trace was left behind

Of course you were a tad upset he had left, but when you got another letter the next month, you seemed happy to know it was likely some loser preying on you, and that your pen pal was just fine

He also makes amazing demon repellent, several lesser demons have been left in water pots for the morning sun to boil them alive

It's the least he could do to protect his poor, helpless muse

Authors Note - Thank you for using baby talk to get me to understand I think it actually worked this time (sobbing) I kept it SFW because I am writing this from a tea house and I do not need the owners knowing what I do in my free time like that

[silversimp]

Aot ABC's

Eren Jaeger as Your Boyfriend

Some nsfw minors dni

I've been wanting to do some ABC's for aot for a while nowww

A is for attention: Eren thrives on getting your attention, he will literally pout and throw tantrums if you spend more time on your phone than with him. He's always trying to cuddle you when you're sitting together.

B is for backbreaking: Eren is an intense lover, hopefully you can keep up with his stamina in bed..

C is for childish: Eren has a tendency to pout when he doesn't get his way. Though his childishness isn't necessarily always a negative quality, he likes taking you out on dates to arcades and making pillow forts on rainy days.

D is for determined: Eren is constantly trying to show you just how much you mean to him. He's determined to be the best boyfriend you've ever had (and the last).

E is for experimental: Eren loves trying new things with you. Whether it's a new place to get dinner or a sex position he's never had you in before. Sometimes the new stuff he tries is a flop, but he's always happy to have at least tried something he never had before. Especially with you.

F is for family: to Eren family is very important, he was quick to introduce you to his family and was determined to make the best impression for yours. He obviously wants to get married sooner rather than later and have a handful of children.

G is for goosebumps: something Eren finds very fun to give you. Teasing you with soft whispers and gentle touches over your skin until you're covered in goosebumps.

H is for handwriting: this man has terrible penmanship. He writes grocery lists and then neither of you can read them when you're out shopping.

I is for immaturity: Eren is very impulsive and quick to anger when things don't go his way. He's not great at taking responsibility for his actions when he messes up, but for you he's trying to work on it. Though sometimes his immaturity leads to arguments, it's also led to some fun and ridiculous moments.

J is for juice: Eren refers to his cum as juice and when he wants a blow job he thinks it's funny to ask if you're thirsty for his juice.

K is for kissing: Eren loves kissing you, on the lips, face, neck, your whole body even. He loves starting with your lips, making out for awhile before kissing down your body. His favorite spot to kiss (not including your lips) is your thighs.

L is for lazy: there's nothing Eren loves more than a lazy day with you. His days off he wants to spend lounging around the house with you. His favorite lazy day is laying on the couch in his boxers with you in his arms, there's a movie playing but he's more focused on kissing you.

M is for moaning: Eren is unashamedly loud during sex. Loud, gutteral, raspy moans against the back of your neck as he thoroughly enjoys fucking you. He's loud enough that you've gotten complaints from your neighbors.

N is for needy: Eren is always in need of your attention and you in general. He's got a high sex drive and when he's done he needs to cuddle. He understands that sometimes you need space, but he will complain if you're spending less time with him.

O is for offline: Eren doesn't really use social media, he has accounts but only posts maybe twice a year at best. He doesn't like going out when everyone is on their phones. He would still have a flip phone if he could. The only thing he does on his phone everyday, without fail, is maintain your snap streak.

P is for pregnancy: Eren swears up and down he doesn't have a breeding kink (he does) but he often exclaims he's going to get you pregnant when he cums inside you (whether you can get pregnant or not).

Q is for quaint: Eren loves the idea of sharing a simple and quaint life with you. His perfect future is a nice cozy house in the woods with you and your eventual children.

R is for royalty: Eren treats you like royalty, he refers to you as his Queen/King in a very teasing manor. Sometimes when you ask him to do something for you, like simple tasks around the house, he'll get on one knee and say "yes, anything for you my liege" it makes him laugh more than it makes you laugh.

S is for sweetheart: his go to pet name for you. He also uses sweetie and my love.

T is for toothpaste: Eren hates when his mouth feels or tastes dirty. He brushes his teeth three times a day. Every time you kiss he tastes like minty toothpaste. He uses Tom's wintermint.

U is for underwear: Eren hates briefs, he only wears boxers. He likes them nice and loose as well. He hates feeling like his dick and balls are being crushed, at least that is how he explains the feeling of wearing briefs.

V is for vows: Eren has been working on his vows for your wedding since your first date. He has a notebook he keeps in his nightstand that he writes drafts of them in all the time. He gets really upset when you touch it, he doesn't want you to hear any of it until your wedding day.

W is for wrestle: Eren loves play wrestling with you, it pretty much always ends in him pinning you down and covering you with kisses. Sometimes he lets you win though, he doesn't mind having you on top of him.

X is for xeric: Eren has a love for cactuses, he has several of his own. He also loves when things have cactuses on them, such as his favorite mug. He loves saguaro flowers especially the smell of them.

Y is for yearly: he loves celebrating the anniversary of things. From the anniversary of you dating, the anniversary of you moving in together, to the anniversary of the first time you went to the grocery store together. Eren loves having his calendar full of events with you.

Z is for zest: Eren loves citrus, the flavor and the smell. He uses Hemps sweet and zesty lotion when he gets out of the shower. He eats an orange almost everyday and his favorite way to have chicken is baked with lemon and pepper.

[studdyybudddyyy]

🫧 introduction 🫧

Hi!

Get to know me a little below <3

Name: Elif (random screenname I picked, similar enough to my actual name)

Pronouns: She/Elle

Age: Adult under 21

Languages: English (Standard, AAVE), French (Standard/Parisian)

Ethnicity/Religion/Etc: Black American (Northern Californian), Jewish (Ashki, Belarussian), Autistic, Bi

^I don't post about any of that here, but representation is important

Current Interests (I mostly post what's listed here):

Full-Stack Development, Linux, Python, C++, Cybersecurity, French & Russian (language study), Russian literature, Reading (generally), Poetry, Penmanship, Writing (Poetry), Fashion, Music (classical, instrumental, violin), and Shopping

Inactive Interests:

AC (New Horizons), The Sims 4, Hollow Knight, World of Warcraft, English literature, Cooking, Knitting, Sewing, and Violin (playing)

Tech/Apps/Sites I use & study with:

MacBook Air (Linux Mint 21.3 Cinnamon) and an iPad (iPadOS 16.2 + Apple Pen) .

GoodNotes, LibreOffice, Libby, Pinterest, and GoodReads.

Codecademy, FreeCodeCamp, LearnPython, Cybrary, LeetCode, Github, and KeyHero.

For my non-tech studies I mostly just read books.

DNI / Preferred boundaries

Not Welcome Here:

TERFs, SWERFs, RadFems, EDblr (Any/All), Discourse blogs, Anti-Voting, Anti-Union, AI fanatics/Cryptocurrency users, Cops, Zionists, Antisemites, Incels/Femcels, Eugenicists of any kind.

DO NOT ASSUME I'M A FAN OF [Shitty People] NOT LISTED

Welcome here:

Pretty much everyone else

Boundaries for Interaction:

You're welcome to interact however you'd like!

Everything posted here is open for commentary/discussion and you're also welcome to speak with me directly through asks/dm about whatever as long as it's related to this blog and/or something posted on it. This is an entirely SFW space and minors are welcome to interact, however, please remember that we & everyone else here are strangers and do not share personal information with me or others interacting on my page.

If you're an NSFW blog please switch to a SFW account/blog to interact at all. If you interact using your NSFW account/blog I will assume you're doing so intentionally or a bot and you'll be blocked.

Accessibility:

🫧 I do not post any flashing videos or images.

🫧 I do not post any NSFW content.

🫧 I do not post vent posts, post/reblog about other's personal traumas, or post/reblog about The News (unless said news directly relates to one of the things in my current interests list).

🫧 I do not repost any kind of chainmail, positive or negative.

🫧 I do not share or make any content related to generally triggering subjects, if you have specific and/or uncommon trigger(s) but still want to follow/interact with my blog please let me know and I'll tell you whether or not my blog is a safe space for you.

🫧 I do not pathologize/ridicule/joke about OCD, NPD, BPD, ASPD, Bipolar 1/2, Psychosis (with any root cause), or any other mental health conditions; If I've posted/reblogged something that does so please alert me.

🫐 I do use tone tags (If I miss one please let me know) when discussing thoughts/feelings/comments.

🫐 If I for some reason post/reblog something that is commonly triggering or discusses something you as a follower/mutual have let me know triggers you it will be tagged to the best of my ability.

🫐 I do add alt-text to all of the photos I post.

🫐 I do my best to avoid posting/reblogging screenreader unfriendly posts but If something I posted messed with your screenreader anyway please tell me so I can do my best to remedy it.

🫐 I do respect & honor everyones pronouns, gender identity, and sexual/romantic orientation regardless of whether I personally understand it.

🫐 I do respond to all asks/messages but I'm busy so it may take time.

I am trying my best <3

If you have any accessibility requests for this blog or even this post specifically, please let me know and I will genuinely consider updating to include it if I can.

[yaekiss]

#MailroomOpen! hi hi my darling qi this is the promised letter to my Special Little Guy!! letter delivery for yandere tartaglia with a nsfw reply back and also a meme reference for number 25 if it's alright? pet names are a-ok, encouraged even. ok here goes, thank you so much for doing this!!! i am cringe but i am free ♡

(The letter that arrives is black with gold borders and purple ink, with a purple lipstick kiss mark on the back of it. There are doodles of stars, moons, skulls, and hearts in the margins. The penmanship is neat and playful, every i and j dotted with either stars or hearts, depending on the subject matter. A small box of the same color as the letter comes with it, inside is an ocean-blue collar with a tag that says "My Ajax". It looks expensive.)

My lovely Ajax,

It's only been a few weeks since you left, but in my opinion, any time away from you is too long. I miss your presence, your conversation, your cooking, and some more...intimate things. I'm sure you feel the same. I really wish you didn't have to leave so often, sometimes I think you might care for your Tsaritsa more than me~ Hehe, I'm only joking, of course. I know you're very loyal, and love me very much... (There's a furious scribble over the next words, but you can just barely make out that it says "maybe more than you should") Anyway, moving on, this letter should arrive with a collar. I picked them out special just for you; blue like your eyes! There's a matching leash, but I kept it with me so we can use it when you get back, hehe ♡. Make sure to show me how pretty you look with it on, okay puppy~? ...And come back safe. I'll be patiently awaiting your return, hopefully soon.

~Your darling

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Tartaglia, no gendered terms for reader, Tartaglia calls you "dearest exalted", mentions of blood, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Tartaglia, worshipping (reader receiving), collar and leash (used on Tartaglia), masochistic Tartaglia, mentions of mirror sex, Tartaglia calls himself puppy once, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Weird, as soon as he handed his parcel to me, he started booking it to your address, like damn it's not a race?! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

A medium-sized parcel finds its way into your possession, placed in front of your doorstep. The box is made of smooth varnished timber and the intricate details are inlaid with gems and shards that match the stunning shade of your eyes. Judging by all the elaborate carvings and the overall quality of the trunk, it must have cost him a pretty penny, especially if it was commissioned just for you. 

Flipping the lid of the box open at its hinge, your eyes are greeted by the sight of the sheer amount of items he sent to you. Ajax is nothing but a generous lover and it's definitely evident with all the gifts he prepared for you this time. Starting out, there are a few neatly packed food containers imbued with a charm that helped to preserve their contents perfectly over the lengthy delivery trip. Each one is labelled with the name of the dish it holds and after looking through the various containers, you realise they’re all your favourite dishes, lovingly made from scratch by Ajax.

To a side, there’s a hefty drawstring pouch. Tugging the bag open, a large pile of mora shimmers back at you. You should’ve known he would spoil you like this even if he were away. Tucked underneath the bag of mora, is his letter.

The envelope is a version of the one typically used for fatui matters, except this one is a lot gaudier than usual. …It’s the kind used for letters addressed exclusively to Her Royal Highness, the Tsaritsa. Just the look of it is expensive: A frosted gold border lines the front of the envelope and his wax stamp seals the letter shut at the back, away from prying eyes. Surely using an envelope reserved for the Tsaritsa for you is more than a bit… blasphemous. Nonetheless, you try not to think too much about it and gingerly open the letter up to read his reply.

His handwriting is scrawling and slightly messy as always but you know that it’s just from the eagerness that he seems to constantly have while around you, like some sort of oversized puppy. Present is a tangible tenderness in all his words and you can just about picture the silly little smile he had on his face while he wrote this letter to you. Additionally, there are hearts blotchily drawn in a rusty red around in the margins to match your love letter sent to him. His response reads:

“To my highest divinity, my owner,

It’s so so so good to hear from you, dearest exalted! Ah, I can’t believe you’d miss me, I’m swooning, at least now I know I’m not the only one left longing. I saw you mention that you missed my cooking so to remedy that, I prepared some of your favourite dishes, I didn’t quite know which one would be the best to send to you, so I just sent all of them, haha. Please let me know if they’re to your liking, dearest exalted. Regarding missing my presence… there’s only 1 solution for that which you’ll see soon enough!

I saw your scribbled-out words. ‘Maybe more than you should.’ My reverence for you must not be enough, and that’s why you still doubt me, doubt my love for you, right, dearest exalted? Although the Tsaritsa may be important to me, however, even the loyalty I have for her cannot hold a candle to the utmost adoration that I have for you. Far, far, far from it. What you see right now is but a mere glimpse of my endless devotion and love for you, dearest exalted. There is so much more that I would do for you. Just say the word, that’s all you’ll ever need to do, and I’ll carry out any of your orders till the end of my days. Even in death, I’d still be yours to command. Beyond the grave, that’s how much you deserved to be loved, dearest exalted. (His paragraph drips with festering lovesickness in the way the ink looks to be redder than the one in his inkwell.)

Ahem, moving on! Thank you for the collar, it sits wonderfully around my neck and fits like a glove. Really brings out my eyes too, was that intentional? And the tag… oh, the tag. I must confess, I’ve imagined what it would be like, to have you attach the leash to it and tug me in front of the mirror, making me watch through the reflection as you have your way with me. I would let out all the sounds you said you liked hearing from me, my moans or whines or screams, I’d give you anything you want. You could be as rough as you’d like to too, pulling harshly on the leash as you take your frustrations out on me, you know I love whatever you grace me with, dearest exalted.

I’ll end my letter here, my remaining words can be relayed when I’m back soonest, I promise! Remember to tell me if anyone has wronged you, I’ll gladly rid you of them, dearest exalted. Can’t wait to be under you again! 

Your most devoted puppy,

- Your Ajax -”

That’s certainly… a reply worthy of your contemplation, to say the least. Inserting his reply back into the envelope, you wonder what else he could’ve left unsaid in a letter that’s already chock full of the rawest form of veneration towards you. Sitting in pensive silence, your mind reels. Fortunately for you (or perhaps it’s the contrary), your answer arrives frighteningly fast, disrupting the stillness. 

There’s a knock at your door, a familiar keening whine bleeding through the wood.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[fixfoxnox]

If you have any free time im requesting some camboy au headcanons about roach :0? Or letters to love headcanons about roach!!

Let's do some Letters headcanons! I haven't done one for Letters Roach and it gives me an opportunity to explain some things for the story!

Warnings: Stalker type behavior from Makarov, nsfw implied, slight non-con mentioned

Trans! Roach in the letters universe, which you guys probably knew, but he didn't come out until he was about sixteen

He is currently in his early-mid twenties in the fic and has been transitioning since he came out

Only person who knew he was trans earlier than sixteen was Eddie

Eddie is still a doctor in this AU and provided Roach with fantasy hormone blockers until he was ready to come out

So Roach essentially never hit a female puberty which has worked out for him because he doesn't have to bind his chest or anything

He was raised with a females education because he didn't come out until later

When he did come out, there was discussion of sending him through the classes for male aristocrats, but he would have been learning with small children, so they decided to just teach him the basics

For this reason Roach has no idea how to really fight (outside of a few things that we'll get to later), no idea how to hunt, and is a little less educated on things like war tactics, math, and history (he's learning though!)

Roach earned Makarov's affection when they were very young, which is part of why he doesn't remember it

Makarov was about eight while Roach was about five

Essentially Makarov was being a pouty bratty young prince

Little Roach got tired of it and came over to smack him with a book and tell him to shut the fuck up with his tantrum because he was trying to make flower crowns

Roach got in trouble for it, but Makarov was already smitten and it did not help that Roach later apologized to him with one of the flower crowns he made

Makarovs obsession was mostly innocent until he hit puberty then he started getting full on creepy and weird which is most of what Roach remembers

Roach and Jackson became bffs in this AU when they were kids. They were around the same age and their families estates are right next to each other, so it just made sense

Jonathan and Eddie fully believed that Roach and Jackson were sneaking around together when they were teens

Technically they weren't wrong, its just that rather than having sex, Roach and Jackson were going into town together and sneaking back to the estates with stray cats (the estates still have a cat problem because of them)

Makarov fucking despises Jackson, but he can't say or do shit because Jackson's family are the Kingdom's record keepers/treasurers

A list of creepy things that Makarov has done to Roach in this AU:

Stolen some of his clothes

Cut a piece of his hair to keep

"Accidentally" spilled wine, water, and mead on him several times

Had specific outfits made and sent to him (and since he's the prince, guess what Roach was wearing to any functions??)

Had copies of any portraits made of Roach made for himself (as well as hired some artists to draw Roach for him secretly)

Bought literally the exact same fragrances that Roach uses just so he can spray them in his room (and be creepy)

Followed him around secretly and made visits to Roach's families estate to sneak into his room

Literally tried to start rumors about the two of them to try and force them to be married

Straight up felt him up several times during big events where he could get away with it during like dancing and what not

There's other stuff but thats just some of the stuff off of the top of my head shdhdhdjjd

Roach is known for his penmanship in his kingdom! Its a highly valued skill in the kingdom and he's penned out letters for the royals before (including Makarov)

So when Soap is like 👁👄👁 with how fancy Roach's letters are, he was not exaggerating, like Roach is very very skilled

Soap is only Roach's third kiss in his life, not necessarily because there haven't been people interested, but rather that Roach hasn't been interested (take your guesses on who the other two kisses were lol)

Because Makarov is so solely interested and focused on Roach, Roach tends to get a lot of flak from other noble families

They want their own daughters/sons to marry the prince, so its very frustrating to them that Makarov has shown no interest in even trying with anyone other than Roach

It doesn't help that everyone can see how uninterested Roach is in the attention. They consider that to be a huge disrespect

So Roach has very few friends/support among the nobility, something that his mother has tried to fix but has often just resulted in Roach sitting in a room being made fun of all day

One last one: Roach is very much deeply attracted to the idea that Soap is a warrior king and has seen so much battle and all that, but he absolutely will not admit it

That shit is staying in his fantasies until after he is married thank you very much

[ken-dom]

Keyboard Caress

Steven Wingdings solo fic - part 2 of Keyboard Smash

1.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Steven has made peace with the font of his nightmares. Peace turns nightmares into dreams and dreams open him up to a few... other feelings.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: sigh... I'm weak for long hair and I'm weak for Steven so it was only a matter of time. I've toyed with posting this for too long so, take it. My bestie and partner in crime @heresthestorymorningglory kept me going as always - you have her to thank for pretty much everything I post!

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: nsfw, dirty talk and praise, font kink, masturbation, keyboard fondling and use of tongue?? keyboard fucking? look, he's horny for a font idk what else to tell you

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Steven’s fingers had always been elegant, ghosting over his keyboard with delicate precision, or wrapping around his pen with a firm, caressing grip. His penmanship was second to none, delicate handwriting that could inspire romance or fear or anger with just a simple flick of the wrist.

He was proud of his handwriting; arrogant at times. He slept easily safe in the knowledge that he’d never inflicted careless, ugly scrawl on a single living soul. 

The thing that kept him up at night, though? Fonts and their usage.

Steven’s font choice, as I’m sure you’d expect, was also second to none, and in recent times, there had been a brand new addition to his favourites. It was an unexpected twist to his collection, the choice of his arch nemesis, the cause of years of his torment, his undoing, his healing, his new love — Papyrus.

He’d been sleeping much more peacefully since his confrontation with said arch nemesis, Jacob Crone. The cathartic showdown in which Steven confronted Jacob about the font he couldn’t shake from the forefront of his consciousness had caused a strange inner peace to settle within him. 

Peace, along with an insatiable curiosity towards Papyrus that he never imagined possible. All thanks to Papyrus in bold.

The tables had turned.

And today, as a result of this newfound serenity, Steven had risen late, well rested and eager to explore his new outlook on fonts. 

However, there was a hint of impatience he couldn’t ignore, marring this new thrill. He hadn’t been able to concentrate on his late breakfast at all, leaving his almond croissant with but a single bite taken out of the corner when he finally heard the unmistakable, urgent knock at the door alerting him to the arrival of his delivery guy.

And now, Steven would not only be able to watch that newly delicious font springing to life before his very eyes on the enticing blank canvas of an untitled Word document, but he would also be able to feel it, sense it breathing, warm and willing beneath his very fingertips.

Mmh.

He bit his lip a little too hard as he carefully unwrapped his new toy from the small, discreet packaging, fingers tingling with anticipation. He interlaced his fingers to flex them, preparing to lay each small item out on the desk, allow his keyboard to get a feel for what was in store before-

‘Ohh-’

His own moan stopped this otherwise methodical process in its tracks. He was getting ahead of himself.

‘Relax, Steven,’ he whispered firmly, ‘one thing at a time. Remember your breathing techniques.’

With a roll of his shoulders and a stretch of his neck, he settled comfortably into his desk chair, slipped his eyes closed and forced his breathing steady. Only when he felt that familiar, temporary calm wash over him, signalling that he had regained control, did he allow himself to blink his eyes open and really look.

Before him were a set of brand new keycaps, clean and crisply printed. Custom printed.

Steven had found himself painfully hard a week ago when he had pressed the complete purchase button, knowing that he would soon have a brand new font for his keyboard to wear like sexy lingerie on an already alluring body, and his heart thudded in his chest.

The font in question?

Papyrus, of course.

And now they were here, all one hundred and four alphanumeric keys, waiting, virginal, for him to use them as they were intended to be used. 

Or not, quite… but he didn’t think it worth worrying about that too much.

In any event he was going to enjoy them, and that’s the point of it all really, isn’t it?

Lifting an unsteady, trembling hand, he traced a finger over the S cap, breath turning shaky, blood pumping loud in his ears. He retracted that hand as though he’d been fondling a pile of hot coles and his core clenched, the unbearable heat he felt in his fingertips travelling to pool like lava in his gut instead.

He removed his glasses in a single, well practised motion, readying himself to properly warm up his keyboard.

He laid his head on the desk, breath hot against the familiar black plastic, sweeping his long hair out of the way.

‘Hi, baby. Listen, I’ve got something for you and I need you to trust me, okay?’

A beat, and Steven chuckled, low and quiet, as though he’d received the answer he needed to hear.

‘I’ll be gentle,’ he whispered, carefully fondling the space above the arrow keys, ‘I promise.’

His fingers stroked across the middle row of keys, softly fingering the curve of each one by one, before prizing the first original away.

He’d never replaced his keys before, never deeming it quite as necessary as it suddenly seemed, so he’d watched plenty of video tutorials to prepare himself for this moment, ignoring the stirring it seemed to cause between his thighs.

‘Shhh,’ he soothed, picking up the corresponding keycap and placing it ever so gently into place, stroking it a little to settle it in, admiring it from just a few inches above.

‘Did that feel good?’ he coos, weak, ‘Oh, it looks incredible… ready for another?’

Adding the next few characters to the row, Steven paused, pulling back to admire the obnoxiously, unusually, jarringly beautiful Papyrus decorating his trusty old keyboard.

‘How does it feel?’ he breathed, dipping his head as though he was going in, albeit cautiously, for a kiss. ‘Do you like it? Do you want more?’

Steven’s cock twitched in his pants, but he ignored it. If he was going to get hard again, so be it, but he needed to see the whole thing first. Needed to type on it with his very own fingers, feel it in action, prickling against his flesh.

His chest was heaving by the time he finished replacing the keys, breath ragged, fogging the plastic. His cock was straining in his pants too, growing harder to ignore with each thick drop of precum staining the soaked fabric.

Connecting the keyboard back to the computer, with a shaking hand, he reached for the mouse and opened up a Word document, clicked on the fonts menu, scrolled down to Papyrus and selected it.

His hand dropped from the mouse and slipped beneath the desk without so much as another thought. His free hand was left to type, to bring the font to life in a way Helvetica could never, stirring whatever it was inside him that this blasted, incredible, humble front brought to life.

‘Oh, god… you’re beautiful,’ he moaned, stroking his cock lazily over his pants, trying so hard to take this slow. ‘Ohh, you make me so fucking hard…’

He couldn’t type coherently. Not with the way his mind was racing and clouding with pleasure at the same time, the way his cock was throbbing under the familiar warmth of his palm. He needed those new keys closer, needed to really feel them, hell, to taste them…

He slid down in his desk chair to unfasten his trousers, hastily shoving his hand inside his underwear and quickly wrapping his slender fingers around his thick shaft to pump a little faster. With a groan, he shifted again and dropped himself forward over the desk, mouthing at his keys, at Papyrus, and the result of his passion displayed brightly on the screen above them.

‘You taste… so good… mmmnn-’

He glanced up though eyelids heavy with arousal, witnessing the nonsensical stream of characters bashed out onto the document as he tongued desperately at the keys, free hand now gripping the base of the keyboard to keep it in place while his other hand stroked, slow but firm, just the way he liked it.

‘Papyrus-’ he whined, voice shaky, breaking as he went on, ‘you- look- s-so fucking- good in Papyrus-’

He stood on trembling legs, fist pumping faster for a moment as he shoved his trousers lower, before he let himself go and fucked against the keyboard. The keys were almost shar against his cock, but the sigh of his arousal dragging over that font…

Breathless and weak, a thick, hot rope erupted from his cock, splattering over his desk, some on the screen. A strangled howl tore from his throat as he gave in to the bliss, and when the last wave of pleasure subsided, Steven dropped back into the chair and sobbed, eyes quickly welling up, wetting the keys beneath him with teardrops that he tenderly stroked away with merciful fingertips.

‘You did so good,’ he whimpered, high pitched and cracked from crying, ‘so good for me…’

He got himself together quickly enough, tucking himself neatly back into his trousers and focusing on his breathing again as he scraped his hair back to fasten it loosely at the nape of his neck with the hair elastic he kept on his wrist.

He took hold of the mouse again, this time to save the document he and the keyboard had created as a result of their passion for later, typing softly into the Save As box, Papyrus - the way of Steven.docx

[kissingghouls]

Let the Poison Spill

Chapter Seven - Welt (ao3) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Cardinal Copia x Reader, Terzo x Reader

summary: You've got more questions than answers when it comes to the Order. Can a visit with Terzo clear things up? (3500 words.)

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, Copia x Reader, Terzo x Reader, Secret Society, Horror Themes, more tags on ao3

La mia agnellina, Meet me in the library. Midnight.

Papa Emeritus III.

It’s the neat script, the tight loop of the letters that spelled out his nickname for you that surprised you the most. Terzo’s penmanship looked exactly how his voice sounded, soft but sharp, leaving no room for arguments while somehow creating endless questions. Perhaps it too was a gift from another silver tongued devil.

You turned the note over in your hands. Curfew aside, it was a simple enough request, but it did little to tell you what he really wanted. You weren’t entirely convinced there was anything he could want from you that he hadn’t already had. And if he thought that one moment of shared intimacy meant he had permission to literally dig through boxes containing your life he was very, very wrong.

There was no proof that he had gone through your things, but you had seen the man flex his arrogance so easily it was hard not to suspect him. Try as you might, you didn’t know him well enough to come up with even the flimsiest motive or a reason to remove him as a person of interest.

With a huff, you fell back onto your bed to stare at the ceiling. Copia said things would change soon, but you couldn’t help feeling like the Order had just spent the last week handing you shiny objects to distract you. And you let them, falling over the pretty little things without the slightest shove. But nothing they promised you had been delivered, aside from the opportunity to sin. You’d fallen for that too.

Everyone wanted to take a piece of you without giving anything in return. While the things they had presented were nice, that’s all they were, a useless pile of things to keep you quiet, placated like a child. You wanted what you were promised.

There was too much to be tangled in within the walls of the abbey, too many distractions from the real reason you’d joined. You weren’t going to the fucking library. Terzo’s invitation fell to the floor forgotten as you jumped up.

You shed your habit in favor of the only clothes you had left from your old life—the t-shirt you’d arrived in. It wasn’t quite late enough to fall asleep, so you curled up in bed with your copy of Rites and Rituals. Lazily, you flipped through the pages, searching for any relevant information about secret ancient rituals or lake monsters. The thing itself held so few answers, but you had to start somewhere. Pouring over the baptismal offering pages yielded few results, so you began to flip through the book. Hunting for words like water or lake with your tongue between your teeth in a frenzy that didn’t stop until you’d found them.

Of course, there was nothing. Why would anything be easy around here?

It was tedious work, but you needed to exhaust your options with the guidebook first. Tomorrow you could check the library or even ask Mary for help, but tonight you needed to be alone to help yourself. You needed to exhaust yourself the way you always had, burying your troubles under piles of whatever thing you could find to research. But this time it wasn’t fabled swords or ghost ships that would never be found. This time you had to find something to hold, some piece of knowledge to ground you. You’d let the Order distract you long enough. You weren’t going to let them do that anymore.

There was a reason you were here.

Night crept in while you searched cross-legged on your bed. The words on the page began to blur as that familiar pull of tiredness settled into your bones. With a heavy sigh, you marked the page and set the book down.

As you slept, you felt yourself slip underwater again. The light shattered into a million pieces as it broke and danced on the surface, just out of reach. Your arms wouldn’t move anyway, bound to you by some unknown force. You felt it creeping over your hips like long, clawed fingers that stretched out and pressed against your flesh. It stings before it burns, those razor sharp tips dug into the soft skin of your belly. Saltwater mixed with the open wounds, burning more and more as the claws pulled and pulled at you. Your body sank under the weight, still refusing to move no matter how hard your brain screamed to react. The light above began to fade, the fractured sparkles moving further and further away as you sank. The surface broke and your brain was screaming again, searching for reprieve in the arms that appeared. Hands found your chest and pushed you down into the monster’s grip—

You woke up screaming.

It felt like hours before your body also began to wake up, limbs tingling as you re-familiarized yourself with the movement of your muscles. It was the pain in your hips that drove you from the bed, that same searing burn you’d felt in your head while you slept. You weren’t sure if you’d ever had a nightmare so real before, but you knew you never wanted to again. Crossing into the bathroom, you flipped on the light and lifted your t-shirt to examine the phantom pain. You blinked in disbelief, the mirror version of you wearing deep scratches at the hips that bloomed small droplets of blood where the claws had pierced you. With a shaky breath you looked down, confirming they were on your body too before your stomach flipped and you dry heaved over the sink.

What. The. Fuck.

“Are you ok?”

You whipped your head around to find a Ghoul you didn’t know standing at the threshold of your bathroom. The Greek letter for omega was stitched onto his uniform and he wore the mouthless mask, the silver face drawing to a point at his chin. He looked at you expectantly, saying nothing else as he titled his head to the side.

“Who the fuck are you?” you snapped as you shifted away from him. Why was everyone invading your space now?

“Omega,” he stated simply, his voice muffled behind the mask.

“Omega, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear it over the screaming,” he answered with a slight shrug. “Anyway, I came to collect you. He’s expecting you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Papa. He’s expecting you,” he repeated firmly.

“Oh…yeah I don’t—”

“You might want to put on pants.”

Your mouth snapped shut as you looked down at your bare legs. “Fine,” you agreed with a sigh. “But for the record? This is not ok.”

The Ghoul simply shrugged.

You retreated into your room to fetch some pants, dressing quickly before slipping your feet into a pair of fuzzy boots. Clearly Terzo was up to something and, whatever it was, you were a necessary part of his plot.

Together, you and the Ghoul traced the path out of the dorms to the main hall without a word. There was an eerie quiet hanging over the abbey, the lively halls now completely emptied by the curfew. You couldn’t stand it.

“So, Omega, does Terzo really think I don’t know where the library is?” you asked, casually trying to explore the waters of small talk. The Ghouls you’d met through Mary had all been open and receptive to you, but you knew that wasn’t always the case.

“It’s past curfew,” he stated bluntly. “He’s trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“Why would he even care?”

Omega shot you a look of pure annoyance, readable even under the mask. “Why would you? You weren’t even going to meet him.”

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest. “You don’t know what I will or won’t do.”

Omega sighed and stopped walking, motioning for you to stop as well. He pointed at himself. “Quintessence Ghoul. You know what that means?”

“If you try to knock me out, I swear I’m going to—”

“You’ll what?” he growled as he stepped forward.

“Fuck this. I’m going back to bed,” you snapped and turned on your heel.

Omega reached out, his long fingers wrapping tight around your wrist. The spaces under his fingertips began to turn ice cold, slowly creeping up your arm the longer he held you. It was the same as that feeling you’d had that first day, your blood turning into an icy sludge. He looked just as surprised by the sensation as you were, keeping his hand in place for a moment more. Slowly, he released you and the warmth returned, burning where his fingers had been.

“What the fuck was that for?” you shouted as you shoved him, but your small fists were no match for the Ghoul’s broad chest.

“You’re…not right,” he stuttered, blinking rapidly as he backed away from you.

“Excuse me?”

He shook his head quickly. “We need to get to the library. Now.”

“No. Not until you tell me what you just did.”

“I don’t know what that was, but it came from you.”

Omega turned and started down the hall, moving so quickly you had to jog to keep up. Every third step, he’d cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder as though he was hoping you’d dissipate into nothing.

The library was dimly lit. The soft yellow glow from a single lamp held the only source of light in the large room. Your stomach twisted, the Ghoul’s words hanging heavy in your mind as you spotted Terzo leaning casually against one of the tables. He flipped through a book to ease his boredom, not bothering to take in any of the words as he turned the pages. You wondered if he’d ever really had to wait on anything in his entire life. His eyes lit up as he saw you and he carelessly tossed the book across the table. Mary would have a fit if they knew.

Papa Secondo stood behind him on the opposite side of the table, staring at his watch.

“Ah, Sorella! So glad you could make it,” Terzo cooed as he approached, cupping your face as he graced each side with a delicate kiss. “Thank you, Omega.”

“Papa, there’s something—” Omega started, but Terzo waved him off.

“Thank you, Omega,” he repeated sternly, not bothering to react to the growl the rose out of the Ghoul. You did catch his eyes roll as Omega slammed the door upon his exit.

You looked back and forth between the two painted men, completely confused by Terzo’s summons.

“Terzo, what is this?” you asked, motioning at the collective now gathered in the library.

“I want to help, agnellina. But I’m not exactly known for my studious nature so—” He broke off and gestured to his brother.

“I’m Papa Emeritus II,” he said as he stepped forward and shook your hand. “Call me Secondo.”

“Secondo,” you repeated to confirm. “Why are we all meeting in secret at midnight?”

Secondo’s expression turned serious, made that much more intimidating by the shape of his paints. “Sorella, it is especially important that we keep the knowledge of what happened to you to a minimum. Is there anyone else who knows what happened at the lake?”

“Mary and Sister Imperator were there. And I told Cardinal Copia,” you added softly.

Secondo frowned as Terzo’s eyes shot back to you.

“Cardinal Copia?” he repeated in disbelief. “You talked to Cardinal Copia about this? How do you even know the Cardinal?”

“I met him on my first day. We’re…friendly.” You hoped that was enough of an explanation for him.

“Cardinal Copia,” he repeated slowly, in disbelief. “You’re…friendly…with Cardinal…Copia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you keep saying his name like that?”

“He just…” Terzo paused and decided on his words carefully. “Copia doesn’t typically get close to the Siblings. Bit of a peculiar man, he mostly keeps to himself. I’m a little surprised you know each other well enough to seek his help.”

“Didn’t you already tell him how well we know each other?” It was a cheap shot, but you took it anyway.

“Why would I share anything with the Cardinal?” he asked, confusion heavy in his voice.

“Wait—you didn’t?”

“That miserable little rat,” Terzo grinded through his teeth. He ran a hand through his hair and turned, looking back and forth like he wanted to bolt from library and hunt the Cardinal down, but thought better of it. He flexed his fingers before making a fist and repeated the motion as he moved toward the door.

Secondo placed his hand on his shoulder, quickly stilling him. “Perhaps you two could discuss your personal business later? We only have an hour to do this.”

Terzo nodded once, keeping his eyes on the ground. “We should hurry then.”

Secondo led the way through the library. Just past Mary’s office was a small hallway that held only a small, old elevator. The older man produced a key from his pocket and motioned for you to climb inside, shutting the gate behind you. Terzo kept his distance, opting to lean against the opposite wall with his arms crossed as Second turned the key and started the elevator. With a horrible creak, the car jolted and began to descend.

“Do not touch anything without gloves on,” Secondo ordered without turning to face either of you. “Nothing leaves the archives. Everything goes back exactly where it came from, do you understand?”

The elevator slammed to a stop, emphasizing the seriousness in his tone. He didn’t move to open the gate until both of you agreed to his terms.

The gate screamed as Secondo pushed it out of the way and tucked the key back into his pocket. The three of you stepped into a small antechamber carved directly into the rock under the abbey. Secondo ducked under an arch, motioning for you to follow. The Order of Asmodeus archives stretched endlessly into the cave before you. Rows and rows of moveable shelves on tracks housed an impossible number of records, each tediously catalogued throughout the Order’s existence.

You bit your lip to keep from crying. It was one of the most beautiful and incredible things you’d ever seen. An underground archive encased in bedrock that wasn’t even supposed to exist—and you were standing in the belly of it.

“Straight ahead on your left,” Secondo said quietly as he pointed. “All the records of the building and the land should be down there. I’ll look through the artifacts for anything that might help.”

You reached out, gently touching his arm. “Secondo? Thank you.”

He gave a slight nod and a dismissive wave before stalking off between the shelves of the archive.

Terzo shoved past you, heading in the direction Secondo had indicated with his hands tucked in his pockets. You followed close behind, guilt squeezing painfully around your stomach. All he wanted to do was help and you’d accused him of talking behind your back.

“Terzo, I’m sorry,” you offered as he came to rest in front of the shelf labeled “Ministry Grounds.”

“For what, Sorella?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the files.

“I didn’t—I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t fair.”

He sighed heavily. “No, but I suspect that is what the Cardinal intended. He enjoys…picking at old wounds. I apologize for overreacting.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you only reacted.”

He chuckled lightly. “Maybe, but I shouldn’t let him get to me. And you, my dear agnellina, you should be careful who you trust around here.”

“Even you?” you asked with a sly smile.

“Especially me,” he laughed. “I’m the figurehead of a satanic secret society and you want to trust me?”

“Wow, you’re so humble,” you teased sarcastically.

“You have no idea, agnellina,” he purred as he grabbed your waist and pulled your body flush to his. “We had fun together, no?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted.

“Cara, only a little?” he asked, his voice sultry and low. His hands went to your hips, thumbs grazing over the marks left by your nightmare. He didn’t miss the way you winced under his touch; his eyes full of concern as they searched yours. He pushed up your shirt and found your wounds, dropping to his knees to examine them further.

“Agnellina, who did this to you?” he hissed angrily.

“No one. I just…I had a nightmare,” you admitted, even though the truth sounded like complete bullshit.

“Nightmares don’t leave these kinds of marks on you.”

Secondo loudly cleared his throat from the end of the aisle. “Not. In. Here.”

You and Terzo broke apart as though you’d been busted by each other’s parents. Your face burned red and you began to understand why everyone around here seem to cover theirs up.

“No, we weren’t—” you started.

“He was,” Secondo replied, annoyed. “He always is. He can’t fucking help it.”

Terzo shrugged from the floor. “That may be true, fratello. But this time she’s right.” He lifted your shirt further. “Look at this.”

Secondo’s eyes traced the scratches. “This is from the lake, Sorella?”

You shook your head weakly. “They were there when I woke up. But I…I was dreaming about the lake.”

He stood a little straighter. “Let’s get you back upstairs.”

“But the archives—”

He cut you off. “There isn’t time, Sorella. Not tonight anyway.”

Terzo climbed to his feet and stared at his brother. “You know what this is?”

Secondo shook his head. “I have an idea, but…Sorella, don’t tell anyone else about this, ok?”

You nodded in agreement and after a beat Terzo led you back to the elevator, Secondo following slowly behind. You didn’t know the man, but you could tell he was lost deep in his thoughts, sifting through an impossible amount of knowledge gained through years of experience. He didn’t speak again, even as the elevator deposited the three of you back in the library. Without a word, Secondo took off, disappearing through the library doors.

“Agnellina,” Terzo said softly. “I think you should stay with me tonight. I don’t think you should be alone.”

You shot him a pointed look.

“I’m serious, agnellina. I will keep my hands to myself if that is your wish, you can even tie me down—not like that—”

“Terzo, I just want to sleep.”

He nodded, a soft smile on his lips. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he guided you through the library. The same staircase that led to Copia’s room climbed another flight higher to the papal suites. Another hallway filled with gold filigree, strained glass, and oil paintings cleared the way to Terzo’s home.

It was full of the same soft luxuries as Copia’s, plush velvet furniture in a deep violet and ornate plasterwork dusted with gold leaf on the ceilings. It was twice the size of Copia’s apartment—which was already too large for just one person, but this was a level of grandeur clearly reserved for the head of the Order. There was a fire burning away in the fireplace, its pops and crackles drawing attention from both of you.

Omega stood in front of the fire, his eyes shining in the dark.

“Omega, whatever it is can wait until tomorrow, ok?” Terzo called out as he kicked off his shoes and made for the bedroom.

“No, Terzo, you need to listen to me.” Omega’s tone was forceful. “There is something wrong with her.”

Terzo sighed heavily, already bored and tired. “Omega, I’ve always known you to be a little jealous but this—”

“I don’t care that you’re fucking her,” he shouted desperately. “She’s not—something is not right, Papa. She feels—”

“Omega, that is enough,” Terzo yelled. There was an anger in his voice that you had not expected, something deep and dark buried under the surface. Something he probably worked his whole life to hide. “I will not allow you to treat the Sorella like this.”

“But—”

Terzo shot across the room and grabbed the Ghoul by the throat. “I will cast you back into the pit myself,” he threatened in a low growl. “Do not forget who you are speaking to.”

Omega winced at the words, shrinking in on himself. As Terzo released him, he pointed toward the door and told him to leave. Quietly, the Ghoul slipped out of the room, somehow visibly smaller than he had been a moment ago.

Terzo turned to you, still shaking with anger as his face fell. He ran a hand through his hair, seeking calm in the gesture though it didn’t seem to work. His voice was soft when he spoke, offering you the use of his bed as he rounded the sofa. He dropped onto it heavily, collapsing under the weight of his shame as he hung his head. Terzo cared about you, so much so he lost control the second Omega tried to take you from him. Stiffening as you settled next to him, he tried to keep his body from brushing against yours. You could feel the heat of his anger coming off of him in waves, even through the thick material of his suit. But he didn’t stop you from taking his hand, his skin hot to the touch as you rested your head on his shoulder. You didn’t stop him from slamming his lips against yours.