#the slutty slutty genes are showing there’s no way they can hide it

[deliriiuumm]

you know orpheus is his father’s son because he sleeps like this

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

kittygirl likes petplay but is embarassed that she likes it so much so la signora or lisa take it upon themselves to remind her how much she likes being her good kitty~

your stuff is great and I love reading it, you’re feeding us all and i love it.

Thank you for the praise! Lmao its almost like i’m running a community pantry for fap material lmao. Here anon have your fap meal from the community pantry.

Beloved Pet

Summary: Of all the things La Signora owned, her pet cat was the most loved and treasured thing.

Rated: E

-- There were a few things in life that La Signora found beautiful, you were one of them. Her beloved from the Kätzlein Bloodline. Your natural grace and playfulness created a dichotomy that never ceased to give her the closest thing to happiness in the cold winter of Snezhnaya.

It was the reason why she could immediately tell when something was bothering you.

‘Ah, this must be love…’ She thought as she pinned you to her lap.

You squirmed as you felt her heated stare, tail twitching in excitement as you looked at her coquettishly.

“Tell me,” She demanded in a voice that left no room for disagreement “what is bothering you?”

And you paused, wondering, debating if to tell her your embarrassment over your preferences. The conflicting feeling of wanting your happiness and meeting hers, the desire to play as her pet and not wanting to tarnish her reputation.

“I-” You paused, “I just wondered if…”

“If?”

“If you minded that I like petplay so much…” Your ears drooped.

And though she found the sight of your drooped ears lovely, La Signora would prefer it not stem from your insecurity. Her hands, that had only ever known gentleness with you, tipped your chin and had you face her. Her eyes that only knew harshness was incomparably gentle and loving when she looked at you.

In the cold depths of her heart, the only warmth left was her love for you. Thus, it was one she would guard and protect fiercely from everyone including your own demons.

“You are my lover,” She began as her fingers trailed down your face, to your throat and to the first button of your clothes “and as I’ve told you time and again, that you must carry yourself with pride. From the things you like to the clothes you wear.”

Your chest rumbled, loud purrs that Signora could hear with being so close to you. Her fingers nimbly and slowly unbuttoned your clothes, the tips of her nails scratching your skin from your collarbone, down to the softness of your cleavage and ends at your stomach.

“And that includes you being my pet.”

The casual possessiveness sent shivers down your spine, your panties growing wet at her declaration, “Do you think of me as blind? Unable to see how good and beautiful you are acting as my pet?”

Her free hand groped your chest, fingers squeezing and teasing until your breasts were freed from the confines of your bra. Your erect nipples were a watering sight that made her pinched it.

You moaned without any shame.

“Let me remind you” She spoke as her other hand easily removed your panties, exposing your pussy to the cold air of the room. You sat on her lap, your clit rubbing on her thick thighs that had you arching in pleasure, “that I only want the best from my clothes to my choice of lovers.”

A sweet kiss to your nape and a gentle order to start the play, “Be a good kitty and spread your legs on the floor.”

Like a well-trained pet, you followed her orders as you laid on the floor, shyly spreading your legs right in front of her. Your pussy was obviously wet and twitching. It was hard not to feel embarrassed but even so, Signora could see that anticipation rolling off of you in waves.

Your half-lidded eyes, heavy pants, and red face showed your lust-clouded mind. It was a look that she would never stop relishing, feeding her ego as she knew how much power she held over you. She knew that you would follow her orders without any doubt, you would do anything for her and she loved you for it.

Twisted as it was, impure as it was, La Signora loved you in a way that she would never love the rest of the world and her Tsaritsa. It was why she would never allow you to feel shame or embarrassment for what you loved, for everything you held dear. 

Whether it was the clothes you liked, the food you preferred, the sex you wanted. You were only allowed to love it all with pride.

Because she proudly loved you and everything you loved.

“Such a good girl” She praised you, licking her lips in delight as displayed your pussy in front of her, “spread those pretty lips for your Master.”

Your pink manicured nails slowly slid down your labia, showmanship to please your Master, gently spreading it apart to show your depths to her. You bit your lips in anticipation, waiting for her next orders with your dilated pupils silently begging her.

“Look at you, dripping wet for me, such a good slutty pet” Signora praised delighting at the pleased look on your face as she removed her feet from her high heels.

You felt her stocking clad feet rub on your clit and stifled your moan.

“None of that. Let me hear how much you like being fucked with your master’s feet.”

No sooner had she finished her words, you felt your pussy being penetrated. Your back arched as you let out a moan, your legs spreading wider as the odd feeling of the stockings rubbed your walls. Your short mewls and twitching body made Signora’s pussy wet but this wasn’t about her, not yet. 

She wanted you to unabashedly come from pleasure through following her orders.

“Use your hands to spread this lewd lips wider” She ordered, thrusting her toes inside you deeper to punctuate her words “Don’t use your tail to hide your genetic sluttiness!”

You forced your tail to swing away from covering your dripping wet pussy, instead letting it thrash on the side as you felt the mounting pressure of your incoming orgasm.

“That’s a good kitty” Signora praised as she felt her own panties getting drenched, she knew that you could already smell her own lust but an ice collar forming on your throat was enough to let you know it wasn’t your time to speak yet.

You felt stars forming behind your eyelids as her toes thrusted hard. You came loudly, screaming for your master as you felt her toes stirring your insides as you came. Your face was the perfect picture of ecstasy, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth as your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Your chest was heaving heavily, breasts jiggling as your nipples were erect. She savored this picturesque moment, engraving it on her mind. And then she stood up, bare feet on the tiled floor of her room and raised the slit of her gown showing her damp panties and ordered,

“Now, be a good kitty and use that cute tongue of yours to clean me up.”

You shakily complied with her order, trembling hands pulling her lacy black thong down before your mouth began to lap up at her wet pussy. Your tongue swirled inside her, licking everything it touched. Her long nails gently scratched your head as she pushed it deeper to her pussy. Her soft and fragrant pussy smothering your face as you lost yourself to the pleasure of following her orders.

The world had melted away leaving only you and your master, and her orders.

“Mhmm” She moaned “just like that, be good and follow my orders, you don’t have to think about anything else.”

Your master continued to speak, her words slowly entering in your mind and sinking in your heart, “The only thing you should think about is how much you love this, love me, love our love. Everything else you can ignore, my darling pet.”

The tight grip on your hair pulled your head back, yanking it away from the pussy of your beloved master.

“Are we clear?”

“Yes, Master!” You answered, eyes filled with love and warmth.

“Good girl.”

There are a few things in life that you loved. The feeling of running in the snow to catch prey, the warm and gentle scratches of your lover as you sat in front of the burning fireplace, the feeling of simply following your master’s orders and being their pampered pet. These were all the things you loved and took pride in.

But all of these would have never entered your heart without her because it was written in the genes of the Kätzlein Bloodline to always love the shiniest and prettiest thing and La Signora of the Harbingers was the shiniest and prettiest thing that you loved.

[j-writes-and-suffers]

NaNoWriMo Day Ten

It was well past eleven by the time Lucien finished, and he dropped down onto a box, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He glanced over at Philip, who had dozed off nearly an hour ago. Lucien spent several minutes contemplating sleeping in the basement before finding the will to stand. He nudged Philip until the younger man woke up.

“Fuck, what time is it?”

“Ten to midnight, I believe.” Lucien glanced at his watch. “Eight til, actually.”

Philip groaned, standing up and stretching, “Damn, really? Have you been working on books this whole time?”

Lucien nodded, “I told you it was time-consuming. Come on, let’s get out of here before Heather decides to kill the lights on us.”

Not at all pleased with the idea of a pitch-black basement, Philip scrambled up the stairs, nearly tripping on the slightly raised last step.

“Whoa! Careful…” Lucien, who was two steps down, reached out to steady the young blond. “Please don’t crack your head open. I’d have to fill out so much paperwork.”

Philip snorted. “Good to know you care about my well-being.”

“I do, I just also really hate paperwork.”

“You’re the worst.” Philip groaned, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I gotta roll, it’s a long walk home.”

Lucien nodded, holding the front door open. “Good luck on your journey!”

“You’re so weird!”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

Philip was glad it was dark out; Lucien couldn’t see him blushing as he walked off. Shivering and tucking his hands in his pockets, he sniffled and headed for home. Sneezing and shaking the whole way, he started to wonder whether his allergies were trying to kill him. It was almost two by the time he got home; Philip kicked off his shoes, changed into pajamas, and zonked out within minutes.

As the week went by, Philip found himself sliding into a surprisingly functional routine. Tuesday and Thursday, he slept in, had a quick lunch at home, and went in for afternoon lectures. He’d grab lunch on campus and head back home. Wednesday and Friday mirrored Monday, going from lectures to lunch to the library. On Friday night, he got Lucien’s address and cell number, and he left for home grinning like a dipshit.

Saturday morning, Philip got up around eleven, wanting to have plenty of time to get ready and go see Lucien. He spent most of the afternoon pacing around his room in search of a suitable outfit, trying on and discarding half a dozen shirts before settling on a light grey button-up with a blue tie. He dropped onto the couch to wait, glancing at the clock more than the TV he was watching. While he wanted to be on time to dinner, he didn’t want to show up thirty minutes early and seem like a neurotic weirdo. The second the clock hit five, he jumped up, grabbing a jacket and heading out the door.

It was quarter to six when Philip arrived at Lucien’s house. A tiny one-story on the eastern edge of town, it looked older than dirt, but well-kept, considering the age. He shuffled up the steps, bouncing nervously on his toes as his hand hovered over the door knocker. It took a solid two minutes for him to actually nut up and knock, but only about two seconds for Lucien to open the door.

“Philip! I’m so glad you made it. Come in, I know it’s getting cold out…” The older man smiled warmly, stepping aside to let Philip in.

Hurrying inside, the anxious blond smiled back, trying to hide how intimidated he was. He felt so out of his element - Lucien’s house was infinitely more adult than his. Thoroughly cleaned, with coordinating decorations, shelves of books, random knick knacks, and no Ikea furniture. It was welcomingly warm inside, and smelled like rich tomato sauce and garlic.

Philip took a deep breath and grinned, “Duuuuude. It smells great in here.”

Lucien smiled back, clearly flattered, “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” Philip had actually forgotten lunch in his fussing about, and his stomach was growling loudly to complain about it.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring the food out.”

Philip hurried to the small dining table, dropping down into the closer of the two chairs. His mouth started to water when Lucien brought out a big pot of spaghetti and homemade sauce, and he almost wept with joy when the garlic bread was placed on the table. Bringing a pitcher of ice water and two glasses, Lucien sat down opposite him, smiling.

“I can tell you’re excited. Help yourself. There’s shredded parmesan if you want it.” The older man offered.

Without any further invitation, Philip shoveled a heap of pasta onto his plate, drowning it and his several slices of garlic bread in cheese and marinara. Lucien waited patiently for Philip to finish, putting much smaller servings on his own plate, with significantly less sauce and cheese. Philip was bouncing in his chair, waiting for permission to eat.

“I don’t suppose you say grace?”

“Nah, nope. Definitely not.” Philip shook his head.

Lucien chuckled, “Then dig in before you pop a blood vessel.”

Philip immediately jammed a fork into his pasta, twirling up a ridiculous amount and stretching open his jaw like an anaconda to fit it in his mouth. Too busy laughing to criticize Philip’s table manners, Lucien rolled his eyes at the younger man’s antics. He didn’t seem that hungry himself, mostly just picking at the garlic bread, but he was clearly happy that Philip liked the food.

Though he was incredibly hungry, Philip had to pause every few mouthfuls to sneeze and sniffle. He rubbed his eyes, which were starting to water, and groaned in frustration. “Goddammit. My allergies are fucking terrible lately.” He stifled another sneeze into his napkin, asking Lucien, “Do you have a dog running around here? I swear, it’s like there’s fur or something on all your clothes.”

“I… I mean… I walk in the park a lot, and there’s plenty of dogs there, but, no. I don’t own a dog.” Lucien shook his head, anxiously picking apart a slice of garlic bread.

“Huh. Weird.” Philip shrugged, going back to chowing down like his life depended on it. His whole plate was empty by the time Lucien had finished assaulting the garlic bread, and he was eyeing the spaghetti pot eagerly.

“You can have seconds, you know.”

Philip lit up. “Really?”

“Of course.” Lucien nodded, “I didn’t make all this for me.”

“You’re the best!” Philip started making Spaghetti Mountain 2.0 on his plate, while Lucien sipped a glass of water, absently twirling the same piece of pasta for several minutes.

About halfway through his second mound of pasta, Philip started sniffling incessantly. Lucien frowned in concern, getting up to find a tissue box. He returned after a moment, holding the box out to Philip. The watery-eyed blond smiled gratefully at Lucien, grabbing a tissue just in time to muffle a sneeze.

Philip groaned, sniffling and rubbing at his nose with the tissue. “Fuuuck. At this rate, I’m gonna die before dessert.”

“You can leave if you’re not feeling well. I’ll completely understand.” Lucien offered a sympathetic smile. “Maybe next weekend, we can meet somewhere else, see if your allergies decide to calm down. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good.” Philip climbed to his feet, cheeks flushed with shame. “Thank… thanks for understanding.”

“It’s really no trouble.” Lucien insisted. “Would you like some spaghetti to go?”

“Yes!” The younger man nodded eagerly, grabbing another tissue as his excitement was punctuated with a sneeze.

“I’ll pack some up, just give me one moment.” Lucien shuffled off to the kitchen in search of a tupperware. He returned a minute later with a plastic bowl and coordinating lid, offering both pieces and the serving spoon to Philip. “Go nuts.”

Philip grinned, filling the tupperware to the brim with pasta and sauce. Just for good measure, he stuffed one last piece of garlic bread in his mouth, taking a big bite before heading for the door. “Thanks for having me. And feeding me. And not being a dick about my allergies.”

“It’s no trouble.” Lucien insisted. “See you Monday?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Philip nodded, waving with his free hand as he headed out, clutching the spaghetti as protectively as if it were his child.

As promised, Monday afternoon, Philip made his way to the library. He was surprised and a little confused to see a different assistant working circulation. The large, hawaiian-t-shirt-clad young man was sitting behind the front desk, watching some animated show on the circulation computer. He didn’t even notice Philip at first, busy shoving cheetos in his mouth with one hand and thoughtfully stroking his terrible facial hair with the other. It wasn’t clear whether he’d tried to grow a full beard and just had awful genes, or if he had intentionally shaved it to mutton chops and missed a few stray hairs on his chin. Philip was squinting over the desk, trying to make out the cartoon on the monitor. He gave up after a moment, finally asking, “What are you watching?”

“Gurren Lagann. I’d explain the premise, but it’s probably too complicated for you.” the bearded boy sneered.

From a nearby aisle came the familiar voice of Heather. “Shut the fuck up, Kyle. You failed Remedial Algebra twice, you don’t get to criticize the comprehension skills of other people.”

“I knew the material!” He whined, “I’m just bad at taking tests.”

“Yeah, sure.” The dark-haired girl returned to the desk with an empty cart, having just finished shelving books, “And I know how to drive, I just keep crashing every time I operate a car.”

Kyle scowled, turning back to his show as he grumbled, “Yeah, well at least I don’t dress like a whore.”

“That’s cause they don’t make slutty clothes in triple XL.”

Philip bit back a snicker, chiming in finally. “If either of you have a minute, I’m looking for Lucien?”

“He’s upstairs, probably avoiding this parasite,” Heather grumbled, jerking her thumb towards Kyle.

“Awesome, thanks!” Philip smiled at her and hurried up the stairs, not wanting to witness the start of World War Three.