#sin's bases

[r04sty]

Sins of the flesh is a fun update

[deegadraws]

bonding with grandpa

[undefeatablesin]

Thanks Eileen, I honestly hadn't noticed... 😨

[starrysharks]

hotel manager

[blighted-elf]

Vampire: The Masquerade - Choice of Games Titles

[immortal-cataclysm]

desperate to know what faust's beef with sin is. daisuke please.

[hezuart]

Something I was curious about is that you say Hazbin and Helluva don’t follow religious or biblical accuracy, but you seem to forget that it’s not supposed too. It’s Viv’s own spin on biblical things so of course it won’t be biblically accurate.

I’m not trying to be mean or degrade you in anyway I just don’t get why you think it needs to be accurate to religion.)

Because Viv's spin on the religion and its figures is like this

[kozh-lucium]

“What is he dreaming of?”

Professor Gale trying to pull an all nighter to grade the exams, but it’s so boring he fall asleep.

And of course, the consequences…

[hoaxghost]

They're both so insane for different reasons but it results in the same outcome

[sinnbaddie]

Kakashi: rawdogging the most atrocious mental breakdown in history, just fully losing his mind no chaser

Gai: that’s my Kakashi ‼️👍✨

[narislvr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Ahhh, Thank you so much for requesting and of course! ♡ Valeria would definitely be the type to tease reader saying stuff along the lines of "told you they were, demonios," but would offer her support and comfort regardless because she simply loves you that much. This may be a tad bit rushed but I hope you enjoy! <3

── p.s : I accidentally deleted the original post I was gonna use to respond to the ask thus why it's posted like this-

req by: @cerise-on-top

Your hair was damp against Valeria’s stomach as she gently combed through it with her calloused fingers. Her touch was slow and tender, leaving on your scalp a lulling sensation as you continued your rant about your day's events.

“It was ten minutes, Vale! Ten!”

You look up momentarily from where your head was resting on her lap only to find her already looking down at you with a mocking, yet loving, grin on her lips. “That’s why you don’t leave children unattended, Linda. You of all people should know that,” She taunts, poking the tip of your nose with her free hand in amusement as your eyes narrowed at her actions. Of course, she knew you weren’t at fault, but she couldnt help the lighthearted laughter that rumbled through her as you swatted her finger from your face.

"I didn't leave them unattended, I simply let them play in their centers while I finished the screening tests for the last three kids.. I didn't think that they'd be able to drop the whole paint bottle tray on the floor the one second I'm not looking up!" You groan, hands coming up to rub at your temples as you recalled the memory.

-

With holiday break only being a week away, first semester screening tests were being done to make sure that the kids were learning the things necessary before the end of the year, and so far nothing had gone wrong. Usually while you performed these mini tests, you had your TA keep an eye on the kids in the room whilst you sat with your small group in one of the corner tables, but she was out sick and you still needed to get this last group done so you were responsible for keeping track of everything at once.

You definitely had this under control.

The kids were usually relatively calm and would tend to stay in their play area's while you were busy unless they needed help with anything but that was normal. And yeah, they could be a bit loud, but it was never anything so bad that you would have to turn your attention away from your task.

You definitely this under control. you had forgotten that they had had a sweet treat for snack time only a few moments prior.

Everything was going well, perfect even, until you heard the loud sound of heavy plastic hitting the floor and the yelps and giggles from the children in the corner of the room.

-

"Of course the first thing I did was make sure everyone was okay, but Vale, the paint was everywhere! Juan had paint all over his pants and shoes and thought I was mad so he ran away and left paint all over the rest of the floor. I told the kids to just leave it while I tried to make sure Juan knew I wasn't mad, but they decided they'd try and help clean it up and really only got more paint on themselves," You sighed, carefully switching your position from resting on her lap to laying against her side, head resting against her chest as she gently wrapped her arm around your waist.

There was a light grimace on her face as she thought about your story. She already wasn't fond of kids, thinking of them as nothing more than literal demons, inconveniences, leaving chaos with everything they touched, so the thought of running behind children covered in paint only served as further deterance from ever wanting kids. "No entiendo cómo le haces, I would've been fired the moment I heard the thing fall down. Probably way before then" She mumbles, earning a small laugh from you as you look up at her and send her a playful disaproving look. She only shakes her head, a hint of a grin on her lips as she raises a brow and meets your gaze, "Que te ries, eh? We both know I would've gone off on all of them. Apenas si tengo la paciencia to deal with grown ass men, imagine me with a group of 18 chamacos. You're doing God's work, Linda."

She presses a kiss against your temple, her fingers gently tapping a lazy rhythm against your stomach as you close your eyes and smile to yourself. You knew Valeria probably had a stressful day herself, it being noticeable due to the heavy bags beneath her eyes and the way she seemed want nothing less but to close her eyes and slip into some much needed slumber, but she still made time to listen to you. Your days were nothing compared to hers, and even if she wasn't the most outwardly affectionate with words, she still never failed to let you know she cared. That you were loved, heard.

"Maybe I should bring you with me to work next time my partner doesn't come in. Would definitely make my day easier" You murmur against her chest, a cheeky tone in your tired voice as you burry yourself closer to her. You hear her scoff and you chuckle once more, not having to raise your head to know there was a look of horror on her face at your suggestion.

"Ya mejor vete a dórmir, you're talking nonsense, chula," She exhales, feign annoyance in her voice as she rests her head over yours, holding you close.

"Was just a thought. You should consider it sometime."

A moment of silence.

"Vale?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I know."

"You're not gonna say it back?"

"You know I love you. More than anything. Even if you do still smell like paint."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ translations:

── Linda: "Pretty"

── No entiendo cómo le haces: "I don't know how you do it"

── Que te ries: "what are you laughing at?"

── Apenas si tengo la paciencia: "I barely have the patience"

── Chamacos: "Children"

── Ya mejor vete a dormir: "Go to sleep instead"

[hitlikehammers]

eating fancy

rating: e ♥️ cw: domestic fluff, not-quite-but-not-not-dirty talk, playful banter, silly boys being silly asf, love is when the food is also kinda foreplay, first encounters with a crab rangoon, eddie munson's mouth makes innocent food obscene—fact ♥️ tags: established relationship, fluff, domestic fluff, slice of life, idiots in love, softness

for @steddielovemonth day nine: Love is sharing food (@sparklyslug)

you may recall a very important scene that takes place over crab rangoons for the rockstar!husbands in  je ne regrette rien; this would be their first go-round

“Ooo, we eating fancy?”

Steve rolls his eyes and plops the bags on the countertop, the grease already drawing wide circles on the paper.

“Chinese takeout?” he snorts and raises a brow Eddie’s way because oh yeah, very fancy, but he unloads the bags and padded them to Eddie to open up so they can grab from them, they’ve learned it’s easier to just eat out of the containers and pass them back and forth, but then he’s folding the bag up and he catches his beloved fucking boyfriend—

With all of the little white boxes arranged, and very clearly not opened, but almost making…a snake or something. Maybe a path?

“I like the little cartons,” Eddie comments brightly, with that innocent sort of grin of his that goes and melts in Steve’s chest and drips like honey over his ribs, draped molten, every goddamn time: “they’re like mini houses, you could build a city,” then his head snaps up, eyes wide and glinting, molten just the same his lips part and his grin because something bigger, fuller, taking up more dimensions at a time:

“Oh, fuck, I could,” and he’s moving the boxes around quick, and Steve knows him well, can tell when he’s devising a plan and his hands fly manic to excuse the vision: “a whole new campaign, I could map it out with—“

“How about one,” Steve catches Eddie’s palm on top of the cashew chicken; “you finish the campaign you havefirst,” and Eddie tries those eyes at him, the pleading edge of them almost widened to their fullest advantage but Steve’s developing some degree of tolerance, now, and can at least tip his head just so to indicate that he doesn’t intend to budge—it works, on Eddie and himself, about thirty-percent of the time; and this is one of those third-of-the-time occasions, because Eddie pouts his lower lip and pulls a hand back from building his kingdom or whatever, which means Steve can give a little in return, because that’s what they are, they’re give-and-take almost relentlessly. They’re a fucking team, and a damn good one at that.

“And two,” Steve takes it upon himself to start untucking the tops of the cartons and sticking forks in; “we order, like, just a bunch of white rice for that, so your little buildings aren’t full of fucking grease.”

Eddie brightens up for that, excitement hitting first before he looks at Steve and softens in a breath, looks so fucking huggable, kissable, touchable—

No. Not yet: they have dinner. Maybe not fancy, but Steve would like at least the first round eating what he bought to be warm-ish before it goes the way of leftovers-straight-from-the-fridge.

“So smart, baby,” Eddie croons, and Steve bites his lip over a grin, and yeah, maybe his pulse still flutters a little when Eddie’s voice hits that pitch, or when he says that kinda shit, and means it—Steve not gonna pretend otherwise, or fucking apologize for it.

He’s down to the little bags of eggs rolls and almond cookies, the shitty and really-unnecessary-but-they-come-with-so-they-have-to-try chopsticks, and oh, yes.

He grabs one of these babies out of the little crinkly bag with the bleeding ink and pops it straight into his mouth in one peace, champing it gleefully before smiling at Eddie, who’s grabbed his set of stick and is poking at the bag carefully, almost warily, like something’s gonna bite him.

“What the fuck is that,” Eddie’s eyes dart between Steve’s mouth and the still-half-ensconced wanton-y things in the bag.

“Hrah hanhoo,” Steve tries to talk around his food but it’s a lost cause: he did eat the whole thing in one go.

Fucking worth it though, and Eddie just stares until he swallows, then stares while he swallows, follows the motion down his throat and Steve can clock how his pupils dilate for it; never fails to give him a rush as he clears his throat and breaks his pair of chopsticks apart to scissor them clumsily against the point of another piece:

“Crab Rangoon,” Steve says simply, but Eddie’s eyes just…kinda get wider?

“So is it crab, or,” he asks, very carefully, measured and hesitant: “or is it raccoon?”

Steve’s lucky he didn’t put another one in his mouth yet for the way he goddamn snorts.

“Rangoon,” he tries not to laugh too hard; “crab and cream cheese in a little fried,” he gestures to the pointy crispy could-be-a-ninja-weapon-if-ninja-weapons-were-delicious.

Wait, could ninja weapons be tasty?

“Aww, it’s kinda little a star,” Eddie’s saying as he lifts one out from where he skewered it straight through with one of his chopsticks, which Steve was about…ninety-eight percent sure wasn’t the right way to use them, like, at all.

“And the crab is,” Eddie takes his other chopstick and pokes at the top where it’s all gathered in together and crisped: “oh, a little pouch that’s all,” he moves his head around to study it from all side; “puckered up, and kinda red,” and oh, his tone hasn’t changed but Steve knows this man; “also kinda,” and yep, the tone stays perfectly even but he gives himself away in the way he licks his lips:

“Kinda milky—”

“Stop,” Steve cuts him off, and for good measure he knocks Eddie’s clinical examination of the food out of they way to inexpertly-but-at-least-there’s-no-stabbery-involved lift the wanton up and shove it at Eddie’s lips until he bites half, and shuts up so Steve can make plain his term:

“Not in front of the food,” he declares, and then drops the other half on his tongue because fuck, they’re good.

“You don’t even know which end I was referring to,” Eddie whines a little once he’s chewed through his half.

“Honestly, either fucking pucker is not what I am focused on right now,” Steve nails him with a stare—not a glare, it’s not angry, it’s just pointed—as he goes to finally fucking open the rest of the cartons and start goddamn eating dinner.

“Hmm,” Eddie pouts, and yes, Steve is very much aware he’s displaying one end’s pucker for a fucking reason like the petulant dickhead he is: “that’s a pity.”

“It’s gonna get cold,” Steve volleys back easily because it’s not like this is new. It’s not like he doesn’t know the rules of engagement here, the terms of the game.

It’s not like he’s not head-over-heels in love with this jackass, or anything.

“Fair,” Eddie concedes, and it’s….it’s too easy.

Steve lets himself give into the pepper beef but…he’s careful. He doesn’t take his bites too big, lest he choke on whatever Eddie’s cooking up.

And right on goddamn cue:

“Are you rimming the rangoon?”

“No,” Eddie says as he slowly slurps his tongue back between his teeth to look at Steve dead in the eyes before diving back in:

“I’m making sure,” and he licks; “I get all,” and he swirls that tongue, the fucker, he’s unhinged; “the creamout,” and Eddie may only just make it without grinning as wide as it’s very clear he wants to, but his eyes.

Always: his eyes give him away.

“You’re absurd,” Steve huffs evenly and very much does not shift a single inch for the weight starting to strain at his jeans.

“Just making sure you have a full understand on what you might be missing,” Eddie notes blithely, as he pulls gently at the points of the wanton wrapping and stretches the pouch out for Steve to see and…Chinese takeout should be this obscene. It really shouldn’t. It wasn’t built for this.

And yet here’s Eddie Munson, everyone: so of course it was going to be making its pornographic debut in that sinful fucking mouth, Jesus Christ.

“We fucked on this table like, two nights ago,” Steve points out, almost incredulous but he can’t even pretend to be because this is Eddie, so: this not wholly unprecedented beahavior: “I’m gonna fuck you when we go to bed in a couple hours,” he adds meaningfully, because it’s also fucking relevant; “I am not missing anything.”

Eddie dips his chin and eyes Steve shrewdly, almost pityingly, god.

God.

“You’re missing me licking you like a crab raccoon right this moment, though,” Eddie counters with something like dismay, or, or, like lament in his tone. “This singular sliver of time,” he sighs, and shakes his head: “and you’re sitting there with your lo mien.”

In fairness: it is Eddie’s lo mien. They share all the cartons but Eddie is the one who orders the lo mien, who brought that into the order that’s become their regular; theirs.

But that’s just technicalities.

“It’s delicious lo mien,” Steve sniffs, juts out his chin and sticks his nose in the air a little before he gives up the chopsticks to spin the noodles round-and-round dizzy on the fork.

“Not compared to me,” Eddie tacks on, leans in almost touching just as Steve lifts the fork to his lips. He pauses.

“I do not compare my boyfriend to food,” directly, or like, out loud; “just because two things are edible doesn’t make them,” he licks his lips to finds the right word: “equatable,” yeah, that sounds right enough.

Eddie snorts in disbelief, shakes his head:

“Says you.”

But then he’s turning to stab a stick in the crinkly bag again, and Steve grins before he impales another crab-pucker—oh Jesus, shit, he’s gonna equate those now, isn’t he, that connection’s stuck in his brain forever, holy fuck.

“They’re good though, right?” Steve asks as he comes to terms with this new horrifying association he’ll never be able to escape.

“Fucking delicious,” Eddie admits, grin curling so his dimples pop and he glows: “let’s definitely get more than one bag next time. I, umm,” he Pickens a little before he flicks his eyes up to Steve just shy of apologetic; “I maybe ate more than my half of them?”

Steve chuckles and shakes his head, swirls some more lo mien on his fork before he replies:

“Don’t sorry, babe,” he gestures with his noodly-utensil; “I’ll have my share of red-milky puckers later on.”

And Eddie chokes a little, and fucking good: Steve damn well better not be the only one stuck with the consequences of that fucking image in his head.

The bad ones…

And of course also the good ones.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

divider credit here

[forgetful-river]

Look at this demon-y Damara I drew :)

[visiosatanae]

When getting yourself off doesn't work out, there's only one person you can think of to help ease the ache.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2.3k

Pairing: Papa Emeritus III x Reader (Sister of Sin)

Ao3 Link

So close, so close, so close…

You were tangled in your sheets, having been at it for nearly an hour now. The vibe between your legs rubbed against your slick folds and tired clit. All you wanted was to cum, to end the needless frustration you had been feeling all evening and pass out peacefully in a state of bliss. But release still seemed to be just out of reach as your aching fingers worked the toy in just about every way you knew to be effective. When you finally felt that you were reaching the edge, you nearly wanted to sob with relief. 

Right there, almost, almost…

And then.

It stopped. 

Your eyes flew open in horror, realization dawning on you that your savior now rested dead in your hand. You felt yourself throb at the loss, little wracks of fleeting pleasure beginning to dissipate. 

"No, no, no," you groaned, pressing the button  repeatedly even though you knew damn well that it was no use. With a frustrated sigh, you tossed the vibe back into your open bedside drawer and slammed it shut. In a final act of desperation, you slipped your hand back down between your legs, rubbing frantically at your aching clit. But your fingers were already tired and cramping, fatigue settling into your joints.

With a huff you withdrew your hand, deciding that it was best to give up for the night and at least try to sleep. Rearranging yourself amongst the covers, you tried your best to even out your breathing and shut your eyes… for all of maybe two minutes.

It was no use. You were too wound up now that sleep seemed impossible. Your brain began flipping through possibilities at a rapid fire pace. You didn't have any other working toys at the moment, something you had been meaning to remedy, but hadn't had the time or money to shop for new ones. Fingers were too useless at this point, and you always had the hardest time getting off that way anyway. You would ask someone for… assistance, but it was the middle of the night. Most everyone was asleep or already entwined with a chosen partner until morning. But perhaps…

You laid in bed, suffering in thought. It's possible that a certain Papa would be willing to help with your predicament. But the problem was whether or not he already had another Sibling in his chamber. Sighing, you sat up and put on a robe. You figured it wouldn't hurt to at least try, especially with how your core still ached for release. 

Opening your door as quietly as you could, you slipped into the hallway and made your way towards the Papal chambers. The Ministry at this time was silent, making even the soft padding of your feet upon the marble floors sound louder than usual. Because of this, you felt the need to keep to the shadows cast by the wall sconces. You never knew if a ghoul or Sister Imperator could be patrolling the halls. 

Finally, you found yourself in front of Papa III's room. You stared at the plaque above the door with dread, trying to find the courage to knock. Papa had always encouraged Siblings to call on him for anything they needed, but what you needed felt so arbitrary you felt that even if he did answer you would be dismissed back to your room in shame. You stood there frozen until another pang of arousal shot through you, urging you to finally knock on the solid wood door, which felt deafening within the silent corridor. 

You held your breath, anxiously waiting for any sound from the room beyond, but you heard nothing. You listened for a few seconds, but it felt like minutes within the stillness around you. After a few moments you weren't even sure you wanted him to answer. What would you even say? He was a Papa! And your silly request probably wasn’t worth his time. 

With a sigh, you turned to leave. But then-

“Entra per favore.”

His words came softly from the room beyond and you stiffened, realizing that now you had to go through with this. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you gently opened the door. You had never been inside the papal bed chambers before, but it was exactly as you expected them to look. A large canopied bed brought your eyes directly to, obviously meant to be the focal point of the room. Papa had opted for black silk sheets and velvet curtains, with an assortment of pillows to match. The bed had a dark oak frame that matched the rest of the furniture, including a chaise lounge at the foot of the bed. A fireplace crackled softly off to the left, the flame low and log mostly embers now with how late into the night it was. Your eyes finally came to rest on Papa seated in a high backed chair, book in his hands as he read by lamplight. He was dressed in a dark velvety smoking jacket, his face devoid of his paints. But if anything, the lack of paint made his white eye stand out even more against his otherwise orthodox face. 

He smiled when he looked up, seeing your face poking in. “Ah, Sorella!” His voice was soft but no less animated. The smile lines on his face deepened as he met your eyes. “What can I be doing for you?” 

Your face reddened as you realized you had been staring. “Forgive me, Papa!” you squeaked. “I wasn’t expecting you’d still be awake.”

His expression is gentle. “It seems we are both having a sleepless night, eh?” He beckoned you further into the room after your small nod. You shuffled closer, closing the door softly behind you. "Now, tell me. How can your Papa help you?" 

You averted your gaze, still unsure about following through with your request. How exactly were you supposed to go about telling Papa your sex toy broke and you needed to climax or else you'd go insane? 

"I was um… partaking in the sins of the flesh and my… aiding device died on me." Sathanas, that sounded stupid. 

But Terzo nodded sagely, completely understanding your situation despite your convoluted way of describing it. "You are not the first," he confided, which made you breathe a sigh of relief. "But I have just the remedy." He opened his arms, coaxing you further still. "On my lap, Sorella." 

Face beet red, you did as he asked, awkwardly kneeling on either side of his thighs on the chair. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him until your chest was flush with his. He gazed up at you, a hint of mischief hiding behind his kind expression. "No need to be shy now. It's easier if you relax, dolcezza." 

You nodded, still feeling a little wobbly on your knees. Your hands made their way to Terzo's shoulders for balance, lowering yourself more onto his lap. He looked pleased with your willingness to comply, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. 

"Come sei bella," he murmured, igniting a flame inside you. Ever so slowly and delicately, you felt his hands drift lower to fiddle with the tie on your robe. "May I?" He breathed. You nodded, biting your lip as he pulled it loose with ease. The silky material fell from your shoulders, exposing your torso to his searching gaze. He sucked in a breath at the sight of you, hands immediately coming to gently cup your breasts. You bit harder onto your lip at his touch, but a soft whimper still managed to escape. Suddenly his thumb was brushing your lower lip and pulling it from between your teeth. He tutted, "No need to hide those pretty noises from me." 

Your stomach flipped as he resumed, leaning forward to ghost his breath over your quickly hardening nipple - a kiss placed on the blushing bud. You shivered in anticipation as his tenderness sent small ripples throughout your body. His arm pressed against your lower back, pulling you against his awaiting mouth. You gasped as he sucked, tongue laving over the sensitive peak. 

Terzo then pulled off of you with a small pop before kissing again at the flushed skin. Soft whimpers and hums escaped through your nose along with your quickening breaths. Something about his tongue and mouth was driving you crazy, your hips bucking in his lap. His hands met with your hips and helped guide you. You realized with a whimper that you were already making a mess on his pants beneath you. 

"That's it, bella, just like that." His praises were quiet and calm despite his firm grip and hardening cock. He helped you rut down against his clothed erection, your dripping core already soaking through the material. Your head fell against his shoulder, panting and groaning into his neck as you focused on the growing arousal deep inside you. 

"Papa," you whined, clutching at the velvet of his jacket. 

Terzo knew exactly what you needed. Normally he would tease and make you tell him, but it was obvious to him that you had already suffered enough tonight. He reached down between your bodies, fingers running through the slick of your folds. He let out a gasp that faded into a groan. "So wet, Sorella. Cazzo. You like how your Papa touches you, hm?" 

You nodded aggressively into his shoulder, attempting to grind down onto his fingers. You gasped loudly as he finally added pressure to your clit. His strokes were varied as he figured out what you liked. He was extremely attentive to each noise you made, finally deciding on one when you moaned out a string of "yes" and "please". 

He kept at it, letting you grind and buck into his hand however you needed all while whispering praises into your ear. You never thought you'd be able to be with Papa like this. It was even better than you could have imagined, you thought as he brought you teetering to the edge. 

"Come for me, dolcezza. Make your Papa proud," he practically purred next to you. 

It was too much. You felt yourself falling off the edge, cumming hard on his fingers which never stopped working you through your orgasm. Your cries were muffled by his jacket as your body shuddered through waves of pleasure. Tears pricked your eyes as you finally brought yourself to look back at Terzo. He was smiling up at you, his eyes heady from the scent of sex in the air. 

"Can you do one more, tesoro mio?" he breathed, looking like he would beg if he needed to. Flustered, you nodded and watched as he quickly worked to pull out his aching erection. He was more than ready, the skin flushed and head already leaking for you. 

You steadied yourself as best you could on your still wobbly legs. You both sucked in a breath as the head of his cock rubbed against your folds, easily coating itself in your juices. He guided himself towards your entrance, and once he was positioned perfectly you allowed yourself to finally sink down onto him. Groans broke out from both of you in tandem as you slowly seated yourself again in his lap, thighs trembling from the feeling of taking all of him at once. 

It took some time to adjust to his size, the both of you panting as you looked each other in the eyes. You felt yourself gravitating towards him, lips seeking out his. He made no complaints, moaning into your mouth and gripping at your hips again. Once you felt ready, you began to move, rising up until Papa was still barely inside you before lowering back down again. 

He helped you find a rhythm and before long you were bouncing in his lap. His cock filled you deeply with every thrust and you couldn't help but cling to him. If he wasn't wearing the smoking jacket you were sure your nails would have left marks along his back. Terzo's hands were everywhere; gripping your hips to help you ride him, moving up to your breasts and teasing your nipples, gripping into your hair and pulling it back to expose your throat to his eager lips. You relinquished control to him, your only focus was on keeping rhythm as best you could. 

You felt that buildup deep in your gut again, and he could feel it too as you tightened around him. "Brava ragazza, you're doing so well," he cooed, nipping at your collar bones. "Much better to have the real thing, hm?" Your movements faltered, startled by his words. You tried to hide it, but nothing was missed by Terzo and you could tell by his sly smile. "It's okay, dolcezza, you can think of me when you touch yourself." He leaned closer to whisper in your ear. "I'm honored that you've already cum to the thought of me." 

You choked back a cry as your thighs shook, his filthy words having pushed you over the edge once again. He hissed as you came around him, grabbing your hips roughly to thrust one, two, three more times before spilling into you. You collapsed against his chest, his hot seed already leaking between your legs. 

You clung to each other as the rolling pleasure ebbed and flowed from you. Sathanas, you couldn't believe he could see through you that easily but… the fact he just knew was incredibly arousing. You would have jumped him again if you weren't so tired and it was already getting close to morning. 

Papa helped you up from the chair, directing you towards the bed. You looked up at him confused so he said, "I am not so cruel as to force you back to your room on such unsteady legs." Your face would've gone red again if you'd had the energy. 

He helped you into the bed and pulled you close, your back against his front. You briefly wondered what waking up with Papa would be like before finally letting yourself succumb to sleep, the dead vibrator back in your room completely forgotten about. 

[fictionadventurer]

The worst part about reading in a genre where you have low expectations (in this case, Christian historical fiction) is that when a book impresses you, you have no idea if it's actually good or if you're just overly impressed because it was a fraction of a degree better than the usual garbage.

[guinevereslancelot]

babe would you still love me if we were superheroes and you were in danger and i went absolutely bonkers and crossed every moral boundary imaginable to protect you at literally any cost?