#writing kit

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

1,700-Year-Old Writing Kit from Georgia (South Caucasus): this writing kit was found in an unmarked grave located in the foundations of a cathedral, where it lay buried next to the body of a 40-50 year old woman; it's decorated with images of the Greek muses

The unmarked tomb was discovered at Svetitskhoveli Cathedral, which is located in the city of Mtskheta, in modern-day Georgia. The burial site dates back to about 250-350 CE, when Mtskheta served as the capital of Kartli (also known as the Kingdom of Iberia), which covered most of what is now Eastern Georgia.

The tomb lay undiscovered for more than 1,600 years, as it was tucked into the foundations of the cathedral; it contained the body of an unidentified woman in her 40s or 50s, along with an assortment of jewelry and a gilded writing set, which had been placed by the woman's waist. Her identity is still a mystery, but the contents of her tomb suggest that she was a member of royalty and/or nobility.

The writing set contains several different components, including a gilded pen case with the Greek muses depicted across the back, a silver frame depicting three historical figures, an openwork cover made of gold, a gold ink pot, three silver pens, and a small "pencil-box" made of silver.

All nine of the Greek muses are depicted on the pen case. The figures are divided into three rows; each muse is identified by name, and each is depicted with its own unique attributes/objects.

Above: the top row of the pen case is decorated with gilded images of Clio, Euterpe, and Thalia

The three figures in the top row are identified as Clio, Euterpe, and Thalia, which are the muses of history, lyric poetry, and comedy, respectively. Clio is shown holding a slate pencil in her right hand and a book in her left, while Euterpe is depicted with a trumpet and a wind instrument, and Thalia carries a comic mask and ploughshare.

Above: Melpomene, Terpsichore, and Erato

The figures in the second row are identified as Melpomene, Terpsichore, and Erato, who are the muses of tragedy, dance, and romantic poetry. Melpomene carries a tragedy mask, Terpsichore has a lyre in her left hand and a plectrum in her right, and Erato is depicted with a flanged lyre.

Above: Polyhymnia, Urania, and Calliope

The figures in the third row represent Polyhymnia, Urania, and Calliope. Polyhymnia is the muse of song, sacred dance, and mime, and she is depicted with a scroll in one hand and a mask in the other. Urania is the muse of astronomy, so she carries a pointed slate pencil in her right hand and a globe in her left. Calliope is the muse of epic poetry, and she's depicted with a scroll.

Above: the writing kit also includes this silver frame, which features three more figures that are identified as Menander, Homer, and Demosthenes

A small silver frame attaches to the front side of the pen case. That frame is decorated with portraits of Menander, Homer, and Demosthenes, who are identified by the Greek inscriptions above each figure ("MENAN[ΔΡΟΣ], OMEROC, ΔHMOCΘENHC"), though the inscription of Menander's name is partially damaged.

The frame fits neatly around a small ink-pot, which is then fixed to the front of the pen case, along with an openwork cover made of gold.

Above: the openwork cover was crafted from a sheet of gold, and it features an elaborate laurel motif along with a Greek inscription

The cover includes a two-line Greek inscription ("BACIΛEΩC OΥCTAMOΥ TOΥ KAI EΥΓENIOΥ") that can be translated as "king Oustamos-Eugenios" or "kings Oustamos and Eugenios." There is no written record of any king(s) by that name in Kartli, nor in any other part of Georgia, but the written history for this period is sparse, and the names of many Georgian rulers have been lost.

The writing set also includes three silver pens and a "pencil box" made from a pair of silver sheets. One of the silver sheets has a corrugated design that holds the pens in place.

Above: three pens and a silver "pencil-box" are shown on the right, while the openwork cover, frame, ink-pot, and pen case are shown on the left; the "pencil-box" is supposed to slide between the pen case and the other components

The artifacts from this unmarked tomb (along with the ink pots and styli that have been found at other sites nearby) suggest that there was a high level of literacy among the elites of Mtskheta during this period. The burial also contains several artifacts that were likely crafted in foreign workshops, reflecting the significant trade relationships and cultural exchanges that existed between Kartli and the peoples of Colchis, Greece, Rome, Iran, Armenia, Scythia, and the Levant.

Sources & More Info:

Phasis: A Rich Burial from Mtskheta (Caucasian Iberia)

Georgian National Museum: Pen Case

Colors and Stones: Writing Tools from Mtskheta

Greek and Latin Inscriptions from Classical Antiquity in Georgian History: Inscription on a Pen-Case from Mtskheta (p.269)

Hadrian and the Christians: Georgia in Roman Times (1st to 4th Centuries AD)

Phasis: Judicial Practices in Ancient Georgia (p.7)

International Black Sea University: Reinterpretation of a Late Roman Artifact

The Greeks and Romans in the Black Sea: What's in a Name? Who Might be Basilissa Ulpia from Mtskheta?

Journal of the Otar Lordkipanidze Centre of Archaeology: Archaeology of the Roman Period in Georgia

[designobjectory]

Nécessaire with watch German probably ca. 1745–50 On view at The Met Fifth Avenue in Gallery 540 Fitted with sewing and writing implements as well as a watch, this unmarked nécessaire shows delightful chinoiserie decoration in the Rococo style, echoing the work of the influential Munich designer François Cuvilliés (1695–1768).

[lapenpalclub]

1/21/25 Update Thank you to all who have shared our post or sent supplies. We are so moved (and overwhelmed) by the incredible response! We will continue to accept donations until January 31, 2025.

— — —

Dear letter writers,

You may be aware that it's been a difficult and heartbreaking time in Los Angeles. The ongoing wildfires completely devastated beloved communities and have left so many displaced and in need. 

We know creatives, letter writers, and teachers who have lost everything and will need support in rebuilding their livelihoods. As a pen pal club, we're organizing to help restart collections of stationery and ephemera, general letter writing materials, and/or art supplies and tools.  

If you're in a place to contribute any materials, kindly deliver them to the address below. We will gather and hold the items and distribute them at an appropriate time.  

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Sharing this message with fellow pen pals would be equally helpful. Every bit of effort is deeply appreciated.

We're waiting to announce some upcoming gatherings and hope they will soon provide comforting company. To those who are local, may you and your loved ones remain safe. Please let us know how we can support you.  

Sincerely, LA Pen Pal Club

[exhausted-eternally]

Is this something people would be interested in?

[anna-scribbles]

old doodles from the archives 🫶

[stealingyourbones]

HEAVILY debating writing a fic about smaller Gotham banks and their nonexistent security features because, when the daily/weekly robbery is all said and done; it’s cheaper to just have skeleton keys and combination locks with the codes written on a sticky note right next to the safe rather than fancy digital keypads and thumbprint identification and replacing everything every other day.

[myladysapphire]

Love, the death of duty

duty part two

married near six years, you learn that duty is truly the death of love, and yet when Robbs brother, jon, returns to winterfell, you find that perhpas you where wrong, perhaps love is the death of duty.

You can find the requests here and here

word count: 3,838

CW: MDI, 18+, Smut, cheating, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), slight breeding kink (if you squint), not beta read!

Jon Snow x Frey!reader/ Robb Stark x Frey!reader

Masterlist | Part one

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

Jon snow had been at the wall for near ten years before he returned home. Ten years, six as lord commander before he was betrayed by his own men. And though he had gone to the wall of his own volition, a choice he made to better himself, to find a place in the world, he knew it was time to return to Winterfell. His brother Rob had written him begging him and asking for his homecoming, and even declaring as King he could commanded him home, and now he was finally listening.

He didn’t know what to expect, if he would be welcomed or scorned.

But one thing he did not expect was you.

He knew his brother had married, had had children, but never did he expect you to be his wife.

Someone of such beauty and kindness, and with such a profound view of duty it made his heart ache.

He had expected you to be harsh, almost too similar to the lady Catelyn. But instead, you had shown him nothing but kindness.

“Jon Snow?” you asked, approaching his as he brought his horse into the stable.

“My lady” he greeted, head bowing in recognition.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you” she spoke, a soft smile on her lips. And Jon had been struck instantly by you, you smile had stirred something in him that he had never felt before. And the way you had gone out of your way to greet him, even walking him to his rooms, rooms you had picked and had made ready for him.

You had made him feel welcomed in a way no one had before at Winterfell. Of course, his half siblings had always welcomed him, but he never found a home here, until you made sure he did.

“How far along are you” he asked, as you walked him to his chambers.

“Near eight moons now.”

“And it is your third?”

You flinched, had his eyes never left yours, stuck on you at every moment, he was sure he would have missed it.

“No, my second” you spoke that part with happiness, the second however was a tone he had hear many times, the tone of a lady fulfilling her duty, “Robbs third”.

He had never thought Robb would father a bastard, he knew of Jons woes and how hard his life had been, and yet he had actively gone about it. He felt nothing but anger at the fact and even more at the clear pain in your eyes. It was clear from the start what your marriage was, there was no love or respect, simply wedding vows long broken.

He shook his head in disappointment, “I am sorry, my lady, I did not know” he hesitated for a moment, as the doors to his chambers opened. They were different from his youth, where he now slept in the same halls as his half siblings and not in the servants quarters as he once had, “Robb only spoke of a wife and two children, I never thought-“

“Do not worry, Jon…I am not offended” you shook your head, turning to face him, “it is something I must bear…not you”.

“I am sorry, my lady” he bowed his head, as he entered his room.

“I hope it is to your liking, I…Sansa told me a few things that you liked in her visit a few moons ago, and Arya helped find the things you had left from before”.

“It is perfect, my lady…truly it is more than enough”.

You smiled, insisting he call you by your name, “let me know of anything you may need” you said turning to leave.

And Jon remained struck by you and your kindness, not many would make a bastard feel so welcome, especially one scorned as you had been.

They say that duty is the death of love, and that love is the death of duty.

You believed you were the very meaning of this statement.

Your marriage was a one of duty, such duty that love had died before it could even blossom, and where Robb had neglected his own duty to you, in favour of love, causing duty to die for him, and love to blossom. But not with you, never with you.

You had known that every day of your marriage.

Even more so the day she had died.

He had spent every moment of her labours beside her, a vast contrast to yours.

Holding her hand and crying tears of joy and then of grief.

And you realised you were only a duty, a duty he happily forgot of.

And yet for a year you had chosen to ignore it, only for more hurt to be caused.

And in the  five moons since that day, the day where he chooses the ghost of a dead woman over his wife, you realised there would never be love where there was duty.

Though you painted the image of the dutiful wife, happy and content to be a wife, mother and lady, you still craved love.

Desired it.

Even if it was not with your husband.

There was nothing, not even respect to be found with him.

Not when know you lost all hope of ever having a marriage of love. It seemed to be the burden of woman. Where men can fuck and love as many women as they desire, woman are more often than not left with the duty of marriage.

You and Robb were strangers now, you had moved away from your old chambers, though still in the great keep, your rooms were now closer to Jon’s quarters than his.

Jon.

Your mind was stuck on him, though he seemed shy and guarded, you couldn’t stop of thinking of him. Assessing every detail of him, taking in every word he spoke, every action he did.

Of the ways his eyes followed you, how he seemed to hang on every word you said.

In all honestly, she sought him out more often than not, they even developed a routine. Spending their lunches together and always at beside each other at dinner.

And though you both had your duties, he had been given as hand of the king, and yet despite his ever-building duties, you both saw each other much more often than what was appropriate.

He made time for you where Robb neglected you.

He cared for you where Robb scorned you.

And as time passed, you found Cregan more in the presence of Jon than his own father, found yourself looking for Jon wherever you went you slowly realised that you loved Jon in a way you had only dreamt about loving Robb.

He was always there, either by your side or in your thoughts.

Whereas your husband was never there either in presence or thought, even less in the lives of his children.

He had no quells when Talissa mother came from the summer isles and took Minisa away, eland you had even less. A part of you wished you had cared more, having taken care of her for the past two years and yet you only felt slight relief when she left, though you would never admit it.

Even as you remember the conversation you and her had had years before.

“do you hate me?” you remember her asking, as she bounced baby Minisa in her arms, and you Cradled Cregan in yours.

“why do you think that?” you sighed, having only been civil, out of fear of facing a side of your husband you did not think existed.

“why shouldn’t i?”

“you are the reason I will never find love in my marriage, I resent you for it but I suppose you resent me for marrying Robb, for being his duty”

“I am more jealous, I am simple a mistress, the mother of his bastard, you are the wife the mother of his heir. You have everything-“

“no I don’t” you spoke softly, “I do not have love, respect or happiness in my marriage, I do not have a husband that wants me” you placed Cregan softly in his crib. “I do not hate you, but I will not be your friend…I can’t not when you have stolen the one thing I wanted…love”

“I didn’t mean too”

“I know, and that’s why I don’t hate you…Robb is the one at fault here, not us…and yet I must face the burden of his mistakes, I must act for duty where he can act for love…if I hate anyone it is him”

She nodded in understanding.

You stood in silence, watching your babes as they fell to sleep, neither of you saying a word.

As most of your time was spent with her.

“would you keep them apart?” she spoke after moments.

“they are siblings, half or not…I would not keep them apart if they did not want to be”

“good” she smiled.

And yet that had changed.

The day she died, the bed fever taking her and yet she had asked for you as she suffered in pain.

“do not hate her” she breathed, “I do not ask you to love her…but please don’t hate her” “I won’t” you swallowed, a feeling of sadness washing over you.

“my mother- my mother will come for her…please don’t let her” she breathed heavily, “I want her with Robb…please” she coughed, her eyes drooping.

Robb barged back in the room, stopping the conversation. And moons later you could do little to respect her final words as her mother took Minisa, little as Robb command her gone, and even less as a weight began to lift of your shoulder.

You hated it, how easy it was to forgo a dying woman’s final words, but you had forced her mother to write to Robb and allow Minisa to write to Creagan. You would let them know there sibling even if they were an ocean apart.

Your marriage was a farce and the birth of your second child was all the proof you needed to show that.

A moon since Jon return and yet you had grown more closer to him in a moon than you had with your husband in six years.

Where Robb had left both times you went into labour, taking days to visit, Jon had held your hand through it all, and had been the first after you and the midwife to hold the babe.

If anyone saw you both, the way he was with you every day and night, sleeping in your rooms, albeit on a coat, it  would have been easy to assume he was your husband, especially with the way his gaze never left yours, his hand holding yours through your pains and never letting go, even after.

“What will you name him?” he asked, after you had finally been left alone, the babe cradled in his arm.

“Eddard, mayhaps” you started, though there was hesitation at the name, “I know Robb wanted to name…to name Minisa that is she were a boy”.

“So not Eddard” Jon spoke, handing the babe to you, he crouched to your side, “mayhaps Edric or Benjen?” he suggested, Benjen you assumed after his uncle.

You hummed, “Edric is a good name” tasting the name on your tongue, “Cregan and Edric”

“So, Edric Stark?” he spoke, tone soft as he gazed up at you.

“yes”

With the birth of your second, you deemed your Marriage officially over, you had given him and heir and a spare and even then, his sister Sansa had married Willis Tyrell and birthed her own sons, and Rickon had begun to court an Erena Glover. You were sure Robb would find no shortage of heirs and so was he. And he was more than content to let you be, ignoring your presence at any time bar feasts and officially Gatherings, or on occasion the few times he and you were in the same room with your children.

You and Jon however, your friendship had blossomed into so much more.

With lingering stares and casual touches, you felt your heart blossom in his presence.

no longer did you feel the chains of duty, no longer did the word duty fill your mind and taunt your nights.

Now the word love did.

Jon had been here six moons now and you were thoroughly and completely in love with him.

Your mind was always on him, you time spent with him or your children. Even Cregan and Edric spent more time with him than Robb.

Robb seemed to care little for the family, stuck in his own misery, misery he made himself and every effort to get out of it was half arsed and only done as a distraction with no true meaning to it.

But Love, you finally knew what it was, you felt it when Jon looked at you and when you looked at him and yet neither of you said it.

Neither of you were prepared to cross the line.

You were still married by law and in the eyes of the gods, and yet there was no marriage. Nothing of your marriage followed the meaning of the word.

Your heart belonged to Jon, you just needed to tell him.

A year into Jons homecoming and your fleeting romance though nothing ever was said or acted upon.

But now you stood under the weirwood tree, your heart bared to Jon.

“Jon” you whispered, his head in your lap, your hand running through his curls.

“yes?” he hummed, focusing his gaze away from the book he had been reading.

“I…I love you” you final spoke, after moons of feeling it, of the sheer desire for him and want to bare yourself to him. And yet you had waited, for what you did not know, but today, in this moment it felt perfect.

He smiled, a pure smile of joy at your words, as he quickly moved of your lap “I love you” he spoke in return, his face moving inches away from yours, your breaths becoming one for a moment before your lips where on his.

You had never kissed anyone before, even after all these years of marriage, only a small peck on your wedding day.

But this, a slow passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of your emotions, your love into it was so different than a small dutiful peck.

Your lips followed his movements, moving with his, as he pulled you into his lap. Your hands moving to his hair as you continued to kiss.

A low moan left you, only to be swallowed by Jon as he began to kiss you harder, more passionately.

“Jon” you whimpered, separating your lips from his.

His face chasing yours as you moved away.

“what is it?” he hummed, his hands caressing your sides.

“anyone could see us…” though the thrill of being caught was not lost on you, you were still a married woman, and your children’s legitimacy would be put into question if you were caught.

He hummed, “come with me” he spoke, moving you off his lap before standing a reaching for your hand.

You had thought you had explored the gods woods in its entirety, found every nook and cranny and yet it seemed a youth spent running the woods had allowed Jon to find a spot only years spent getting lost in the woods would allow you to find.

It was a small cave, covered in leaves and blocked off by trees and endless bushes.

A small whole a the top allowed the summer sun to shine through, lighting up the small space and to reveal a moss covered floor.

“we could go back to your rooms…or mine” he spoke, hesitantly, unsure if you would approve of his small little space. It was clear that he had been here a good few time, like this was his space away from everyone, and the basket sat in the corner was a clear indicator of it. With a blanket, a book and an old bottle of wine.

you turned to face him, “its fine…we can save a bed for another time” you said, before leaning up and pressing your lips to his once more, in a heated, sloppy kiss.

He slowly backed you into the wall as he kissed you back, his hands gripping your waist as he began to play the laces on the side of your dress.

You gently pushed him off you, sending him a teasing smile as you started to undress in front of him.

You had never been fully naked in front of anyone, not even Robb, something always stayed on, a barrier from truly being intimate.

And as Jon joined you, undressing himself and allowing you both to stand bare before the other, you had never felt more intimate. Never felt that a moment was more right.

With you sat upon the blanket, Jon moved towards you, caressing your face and leaning his body over yours.

Your eyes locked in a heated gaze as your lips modelled together in a heated, passionate kiss.

His body grinding against yours as his hands moved to cup your breasts.

“your beautiful” he spoke, placing soft kisses on your lips, before moving down your body towards your breasts and placing soft kisses around your nipple, before taking your breast in to his mouth, licking and sucking as he did.

You moaned as he alternated between your breasts, Your gripped his hair, tugging softly at each flick of his tongue.

“your perfect” he spoke once more, letting go of your breast, “I love you” he whispered before moving down your body and licked at your folds, causing you to whimper and moan even more.

Your hands found there way to his hair once more. And they always seemed to, you loved his hair, his curls, even more so now as the peeped out between your thigsh as he lapped at your cunt.

“Jon” you moaned, as you felt a pleasure your own fingers nor Robb had ever given you before, it was overwhelming, the sensation filling your senses as he continued to lick at your clit, and slowly brought his fingers to your entrance.

Groaning as his fingers entered your, he relished in the tightness of your cunt.

He continued to lap at your clit as his fingers pumped in and out of you, licking at your heat as if he was a man starved and you were his last meal.

You felt your peak fast approaching, your hands gripping and tugging his hair harder, your legs wrapping around his head in away you were sure would choke him.

“JON!” you screamed as your peak finally hit your cunt clenching tightly around his fingers as you came.

You swallowed roughly as he moved up your body, taking your mouth with his in a possessive kiss, the taste of you evident on your tongue.

His hard cock was positioned between your thighs.

“can i?” he breathed against your lips.

“yes.” You breathed, and he finally entered you.

He slowly rocked his hips into yours, allowing you time to adjust to his cock.

After so long, with only your fingers, the feeling of a cock, of Jon was more than enough to send you over the edge as he became to thrust in and out of you, hi space moving picking up, as your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned into your neck, as your cunt tightened around him.

Your peak fast approaching.

“I’m going to cum” he moaned into you, as your cunt fluttered around his cock.

“gods” you moaned, your arms pulling hi closer to you, urging him to finish inside of you.

“where?” he breathed, his pace moving faster and faster as he chased his pleasure, as you came down from your own.

“Inside!” you moaned.

He looked at you unsure, but as your legs pushed in closer to you, your hands arms pulling you in as you urged him to cum, he let go and his seed filled you.

And a part of you hoped it took root.

Days blurred together as your affair blossomed.

You woke up and fell asleep in his arms every night. Every meal was shared. And you treated Jon like a husband, and you were treated as a wife.

Words of love and acts of affection was shared and no ounce of you regretted your actions.

Love.

The word circled his mind when he looked at you and Jon.

 Robb Stark, with all his faults and flaws, would be the first to admit he had ruined all chances of being a good husband the day he feel in love with Talisa, and now, when he had given himself into the desires of wanting you for a wife, of the comforts that came with it, he had gone and ruined it, worse than he ever could of imagined he would.

He was not cruel or cunning and yet too you he was.

To you he was a neglectful man, and absent father and a terrible husband.

He would be the first to admit that part was true.

But he was a good king, that had to account for something?

But now you had found love as he once had, but with his own brother and no part of him wanted to stop it, though he craved the idea of him in Jons place, as he was sure a part of Jon craved his own place.

He watched you both, how your eyes danced with one another in silent conversation only you both understood, how your hand was always touching him or his was always touching you.

That he thought he could live with, he himself a cheating husband. First a mistress now whores in brothels.

A wife having and affair with his brother was fine, as long as they were happy.                                                                      

Even after he had caught them in bed, or as she told him of the babe in her belly.

But then he started to watch you both carefully, how you interacted together in public and in private, of the makeshift marriage you had made, and of how Jon had become what he had failed at.

And he realised just how bad of a father he had become.

“father!” Cregan shouted in greeting, but not at him, at Jon.

He hadn’t even seen him, and had ran straight for Jon, who had swept him up in his arms and placed a kiss to his cheek.

It wasn’t his first time calling Jon father, and Robb was sure it wouldn’t be the last, not as you walked over, Edric in your arms, only for him to say “papa” at the sight of Jon.

He swallowed harshly, storming out of the room before they could see or hear him.

And he suffered the harsh reality that you once had, but this time, it was deserved.

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to be added to taglist

[sluturu]

hi there! this is my first smut request, and I like your writing, so could you pls you put me down as 🎀 anon??

so as of lateeeee, dom!Nanami talking absolute filth to his girls pussy while he eats her out has made my head spin for the last couple of days…

would you please indulge me?!

nanami talking dirty while eating you out

cw. oral (f. receiving), cunnilingus, teasing dom!nanamin — MINORS DNI 18+

note. hiiii ofc, hello 🎀 nonnie ♡ i hope this satisfies you! i don’t takes requests, but i really liked the idea of this bc o_o that’s so hot, so here we are. (not proofread & it’s really short, sorry!)

“shhhh, sweetheart,” he whispers, breath fanning against your overstimulated heat. “how can i hear what your pretty lil cunt has to say when you’re being so loud?”

you whine despite his soft command. you crave the feeling of his lips, his vicious tongue, yet he deprives you, almost like he wants you to beg for it. 

“ken, pl-please–” you cry, feeling his stare and the tickle of his pants. “fuck, please.”

“hmm? you’re a needy thing, aren’t you?” he chuckles, fingers coming to toy with your swollen pearl. “tell me, my love, what is it you’re begging for?”

he rubs at your clit with such gentle intensity, as if he knows exactly how to drive you crazy. “need you,” you reply, weakly. 

he just laughs, dragging his fingers through your sticky, sodden folds. “so fucking filthy,” he says, staring at the webs of arousal the connect you to him. normally, the undivided attention would make you cringe and attempt to hide yourself, but it’s nanami. the heat from his gaze does nothing but soak you further. “making such a mess, sweetheart…”

you silently scream as he plunges two fingers into you, curling them immediately. “this is what this pussy needed, huh? just needed some filling?”

it’s not enough, you fear you could never, ever get enough of the loving man between your thighs. you don’t want to be greedy, but you just can’t help it. 

“your… your mouth… please. need your mouth, too.”

he smiles, “my spoiled girl,” he says before wrapping his lips around your clit, moaning at the taste. “tastes soo good, my love,” his words muffled against you, vibrating you to your core. 

you tangle your fingers into his hair, rocking yourself against his face in attempts to get more. it’s futile, though. he never fails to remind you that he’s in control here, so when you try to get more, he just slows his fingers down and pulls his face away from you. 

“silly girl, you should know better than that.” he caresses your thigh with his free hand. “‘m starting to think you’re letting your pussy do all the thinking, honey. have you turned off the brain in that pretty little head?”

you nod, dumbly, blinded by feral need. you tug loosely at the blond strands and pray he lets you off the hook this one time. you hope he can see you’ve never wanted anything more than his addictive mouth and thick fingers. though he just might see it as you being an attention starved slut, but you don’t really care much.

“ken, give it to me. please, i need you.” you say in a half pant, half sob, arching your back off the plush bed. “‘m sorry, please.” 

he’s not sure what you have to apologize for; but he finds it strangely endearing that you would say anything for him to get you off.

and you love the man before you because he’s never denied you. yes, he’s made you work for it, but at the end of the day, nanami kento would do anything for his pretty, dearest wife.

but nanami can have a bit of a foul mouth when it comes to you and your pretty cunt. 

“so fuckin’ sloppy,” he mutters while diving into your heat. his fingers resume their previous pace, quick in precise. “c’mon, tell kento  how it feels, sweetheart.”

his words are muffled, but you hear him loud and clear. you moan out his name and tug at his roots, thanking him profusely. 

he curls his fingers into your spongy g-spot, mouth wrapped tightly around your clit like a suction cup. his tongue flicks so skillfully like eating you out is what he was born to do. it makes your skin glisten with sweat, your head spin and it makes that all too familiar knot form in the pit of your stomach. 

he spews countless stifled praises and comments about how nasty you are for him all the way until he has you hurtling towards your orgasm. your sobbing when that white hot pleasure courses through you and has your entire body going taut. he rides you out, finger fucking and licking you till you’re writhing and attempting to close your thighs around his head. 

“k-kento–” you cry when he uses both of his hands to pin your legs wide open. 

“such a dirty girl, look at the mess you made,” he says while coming up for air, face drenched with your sheen. “guess ‘m gonna have to keep going till you’re all clean, hmm?”

© all works belong to SLUTURU 2025. do not copy or repost.

[kitkatkitzune]

STEPPING UP

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your daughter attends a daddy daughter dance.

Warnings: Mention of young pregnancy?, An absentee father, A drunk man, A tiny bit of angst, inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in (whoopsie)

Notes: I’m obsessed with this concept and I’m not sorry… also your daughter is named after Rory from Gilmore Girls. Sorry not sorry.

I’m going to start trying to post more consistently, I promise!! I’ve been busy lately, I swear I haven’t disappeared!!

Word Count: 2.1k

MASTER POST , TVDU MASTERLIST

———————

When you picked your daughter up from school, you instantly knew that something was wrong. Rory was usually very bubbly and outspoken, excited to tell you all about her day but today, she was silent, leaning her head on the window as you drove home.

You really knew something was wrong when she instantly dropped her bookbag and ran to her room the second you stepped inside your apartment.

Being a single mother was hard, you had Rory when you were relatively young with your now ex-boyfriend. He would pop up every once in a while to say hi but he was never a constant in your or your daughter's life. It had also made dating hard, most men would run the second you mentioned your child, it was hard to find one that wouldn’t.

Still, your daughter always comes first which is why you drop your phone on the couch, ignoring the message from Elijah (a man you had been talking to) so you can follow Rory to her room.

You stand in the doorway for a moment before moving to sit on the edge of her bed. Rory had her face buried in her pillow, shaking as she sobbed. She doesn’t react when the bed dips from your weight but she does react when you begin to rub her back. She tenses up before beginning to sob harder.

Suddenly she turns and sits up, throwing herself into your arms, “Mama…”

You shush her softly, still rubbing her back as she cries. Once she mostly calms down you pull back, brushing some of her hair from her face while she hiccups.

“What happened, baby?” you ask softly.

“Why don’t I have a daddy?” she asks, eyes glimmering with tears.

You frown, “Sweetie, you do, he’s just… he’s not… around… much… you know this… sometimes you get to go out to eat with him… remember?”

Rory sniffles, rubbing at her eyes, “Everybody else has a daddy around! Why don’t I get one?”

“Rory…” you say quietly but she interrupts you, “Why can’t Mr. Elijah be my daddy?”

So maybe Elijah was more than just ‘a man you had been talking to’. You had been seeing Elijah for a little over a year, he had never been bothered by Rory, in fact, he’s quite good with her. The seemingly stoic man would play dress up and attend tea parties every time your daughter asked. He always made an effort to accommodate for her as well, always willing to adapt plans at the last minute. He understood and accepted the fact that the two of you were a package deal.

Your face flushes at the mention of Elijah, because you really did like him and you really hoped that your relationship could continue to bloom.

Pulling Rory back into a tight hug, you sigh, “Baby, what brought this up?”

She doesn’t answer, only nuzzling further into neck. You decide not to push her, allowing her to cling onto you until she falls asleep. It was the weekend so you weren’t too worried about messing up her sleep schedule. Carefully, you pull her off of you and tuck her into bed before going back to the living room.

On your way, you pick up her backpack, opening it to check her homework folder when something catches your eye. It’s a flyer from the school, advertising the daddy daughter dance next month. You let out a sigh as you connect the dots, realizing why your daughter was so upset.

A week had passed since the initial incident and Rory had mostly moved on from it. Still, you could tell she was distraught about it so you decided you were going to make a tough call. Literally.

Rory was still at school while you stood in the kitchen next to Elijah, with your phone in your shaking hand. Reluctantly, you dial your ex's number. You had thought about asking Elijah to take Rory, it was her first thought after all, and even though he clearly loves the girl and cares for her, you didn’t want to risk burdening him.

After the third ring Jonathan answered, “Who is this?”

You let out a sigh, trying your best to not let your voice shake, “It’s Y/N.”

“What do you want?” he asks, his tone clearly annoyed.

You stand up straighter even though he can’t see you, clearing your throat, “Rory has a dance…”

“So?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh, “It’s a daddy daughter dance… I’m calling to ask if you’d take her… so she isn’t… excluded…”

There’s silence for a moment and you feel rage beginning to bubble up in you but just as you’re about to yell at him he answers, “When is it?”

“It’s on the 30th, three weeks away at 6pm.”

Jonathan hums, “Alright, I’ll be there- and I'll even take her out to eat before, that way I can get the court mandated, monthly dinner out of the way at the same time.”

You decide it best to bite your tongue, your daughter was the sweetest little girl you ever could have asked for, you never understood how Jonathan couldn’t love her- why he didn’t want to spend time with her. He hardly follows the custody agreement, never really wanting to see her but anything you needed to get his permission for- like a small trip to the beach, he would not grant, just to upset you and keep a sense of control over you and your daughter.

Instead, you thank him, not wanting to be on the phone any longer. When you hung up, Elijah began to rub your back, pulling you to his chest to kiss your forehead.

And when your daughter got home, she was ecstatic to hear that her father would be taking her to the dance, she immediately asked to go dress shopping.

Working as a server, you weren’t super wealthy and had no choice but to set a limit on the amount you could spend on a dress for her. Unfortunately, Rory fell in love with a gorgeous, flowery, blue dress that was way out of the budget. Fortunately, Elijah was there, and he insisted on paying, even before Rory had picked out a dress outside of what you could afford. You told him that you’d pay him back but he refused.

“Seeing Rory’s little face light up is more than enough payment.”

Everything was going great until the night of the dance came. The dance didn’t start until 6pm but Johnathan said that he’d be there at 4pm to take her out to eat but he never showed up and now he wasn’t answering his phone.

Rory was sitting at the table, watching the clock that she had just learned how to read in school with a sad expression on her face.

You turn away from her, walking down the hall with your phone pressed to your ear, practically growling into the phone as you leave another voicemail, “Jonathan. This is the seventh time I’ve called you. It’s 4:30, where the hell are you?!”

When you walk back into the room, Rory immediately looks up at you. “Dad’s not coming, is he?”

You sigh, setting your phone on the counter, crouching in front of her, “I’m so sorry, baby,” you hold her hands in yours and smile sadly.

Just as the first tear is about to fall from her eyes, the doorbell rings, making Rory perk up, assuming it was her father. You, on the other hand, had a feeling that it wasn’t.

And it wasn’t. Rory flung open the door just as you appeared behind her, revealing Elijah, dressed in a fancy suit as he always was.

Rory let out a little sigh, “Oh, it’s you.”

Elijah frowns, crouching down in front of her, “You, Rory, should be at your favorite diner, eating fried mozzarella sticks like the picky child you are.”

You had invited Elijah over for a date night, you didn’t often get time alone together and you thought the dance would be the perfect opportunity to have a few hours to yourself.

“He… he’s not coming, I don’t think…” Rory began to rock back and forth on her heels, looking at the floor.

“Well, I think, he just needs a little reminder,” Elijah responds, standing up and for a moment, just a moment, you could have sworn you saw the veins beneath his eyes, ripple.

“Really?” Rory grins.

You take a step forward and press a kiss to the corner of Elijah’s mouth, you whisper, “Elijah… I, he’s probably drunk… you’re not going to be able to convince him…”

He hums, “Trust me, Darling, I can be very persuasive… and if not, I have another plan,” he then turns to your daughter, “just be ready Rory, you will be going to that dance.”

Elijah knocked on the door and straightened out his cufflinks, moments later it swung open to reveal Jonathan, in only his boxers, clearly not ready to go anywhere.

Jonathan looks Elijah up and down, “Did you miss the- the no soliciting sign?” his speech was slurred, a clear sign that he had been drinking.

Elijah raises a brow, “I am not here to sell you anything, I am here to tell you that you made a previous commitment to your daughter, Rory.”

“Oh hell,” Jonathan scoffs, “Let me- let me guess, you’re… you’re the whores new guy? She sent you here to what? Scare me?”

Elijah’s jaw clenches before he lets out a breath. He wanted nothing more than to grab the drunk man and put the fear of God into him, maybe even kill him. But alas, he could not, Jonathan still stood safely in the doorway of his home that Elijah had not been invited into.

“The stupid little bitch is fine… no dance, she’ll cry for a day before she forgets and moves on… she’s just a dumb kid…”

It would only take one toe out the door, Elijah told himself, only one drunken move out the door and I could strangle him.

Which is exactly what would happen.

It seemed that Elijah’s lack of response angered Jonathan, the drunken man leaned forward, his hand curling around the door frame and that was all Elijah needed. In a second, he had the man pinned to the side of the house by his throat.

Jonathan’s legs dangle as he desperately tries to touch the ground, gasping for breath.

Elijah had come here to convince Jonathan to go to the dance but the way he spoke about you, about your daughter, gave him a new purpose.

“You’re going to relinquish custody of Rory, granting Y/N full custody. And afterwards, you’ll never bother either of them even again…” Elijah releases his grip a bit, allowing Johnathan to slide down the wall.

The drunken man is horrified, “I’ll… I’ll go to the cops!”

“You won’t,” Elijah grins, pupils dilating.

When Elijah returned back to your home, there were only thirty minutes left before the dance started. Rory was sitting on the counter when he walked through the door, carrying a little bouquet of blue and white flowers.

“M’lady,” he greets you, before approaching Rory, holding the flowers out for her to take, “These are for you, sweet pea.”

Rory smiles and throws herself into his arms, he picks her up with ease, holding her on his hip.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t make him come… but I can take you, if you’d like… and if that’s okay with your mother…”

You smile softly, “Of course that’s okay with me.”

Rory clutches the flowers to her chest, “I wanted you to take me in the first place…”

Elijah looks at you, raising a brow, “Is that so?”

You sigh, “I didn’t want you to feel obligated…”

He chuckles, walking over to press a kiss to your forehead, “I never feel obligated when it comes to my favorite girls,” he turns his head to look at Rory, who he’s still holding, “Now we must go. There’s a dance waiting for us.”

“Wait wait!” you call out just as they’re about to reach the door, “I need a picture.”

After the dance, Elijah would take Rory to her favorite restaurant where she would eat her fried mozzarella sticks.

And days later, you received a letter in the mail from Jonathan’s lawyer, declaring he wanted to relinquish his custody rights, granting you full custody.

Finally, you could begin your new life with your daughter and your lover.

[kazumist]

HANDLE WITH CARE .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro hoshina finds himself getting treated by his favorite nurse, you.

✩ — includes: soshiro hoshina x gn!reader. fluff. cw: mentions of blood and injuries, inaccurate use of medical terms ?? sorry i just used google uhm. wc: 990. established (secret !!!) relationship. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

✩ — note: i became obsessed with these two that i might just write a part two of reader treating him after the tachikawa base raid arc actually.

soshiro hoshina does not play favorites.

when it comes to his subordinates, at least.

when it comes to the medical team assigned to the tachikawa base, however, that is when he plays favorites (though you would never see the vice captain of the third division actually admit that; he prefers calling it his “preferences”). whenever he finds himself in the base’s infirmary, he will always look for you. and when he’s lucky, which on most occasions he is, then he’ll have you treat his wounds. it’s just something that hoshina has grown accustomed to whenever he finds himself there. nothing more, nothing less (a lie).

you were a special case for the vice captain. there was just something about the way you handled his wounds compared to others. call it picky, but he just prefers the gentle treatment that you give his wounds. (how come hoshina constantly prefers to be treated by you when others would treat him the same? isn't that part of your job in the first place?)

(the answer is simple—it’s simply an act of soshiro hoshina asking for some quality time, even if he’s all bruised and bloody.)

“i’m almost convinced that you do this on purpose sometimes.”

soshiro simply grins at you. you weren’t entirely wrong—but it’s not like hoshina asks himself to get hurt when he goes out on missions in the first place. he could handle himself pretty well; he has the high position of being the vice captain of the third division, for christ’s sake. but perhaps it is inevitable that even the vice captain would come out of a mission unscathed.

“i like the concern from you.”

you give him a lighthearted eyeroll, to which he only grins even wider. "i'm sure you do," yet that grin slowly dissipated as he winced slightly at the feeling of the alcohol touching the wound near his eyebrow. “sorry, did that hurt too much?” you asked him, worried that it might’ve stung too much for his liking. this type of close proximity was normal for you and him. after all, it’s not like this is the first time your face was this close to his—though those are times when hoshina feels rather affectionate with you rather than in pain due to some wound he got.

“nothing i can’t handle, love.” he says, recovering quite fast from the alcohol sting. he was then met with a gentle tap on the lips—hoshina knows it was a warning from you. “watch your words, vice captain.” you say, applying a small gauze pad to his wound and securing it with paper tape.

“can’t really help it when you look so pretty up close, sweetheart.”

you ignored his remark but soshiro could see the smile that tugged on your lips at the petname. you then moved on to his next wound, which is on his left shoulder. his expression softens as he watches you inspect his wound, a small amount of guilt bubbling up inside of him. “this is gonna need a little stitch,” you sighed, grabbing another cotton ball, pouring the right amount of alcohol on it, and preparing to gently dab it on the wound. “and this might hurt a bit again.” you give him a heads up.

“like i said, it’s nothing that i can’t handle,” he reassured. whether it’s you he’s reassuring or himself to convince himself, neither of you really know. he hissed slightly when the cotton ball came into contact with his skin; it was barely even heard that he hissed in the first place. but you noticed it; you always do. you would notice everything about the man before you and he would do the same.

after cleaning his shoulder wound, you proceeded to prepare to stitch it up. there was no one else in the infirmary at the moment; it was now only you and hoshina there. he silently watched you as you quickly arranged the surgical suture. and even when you started the stitching, the deafening silence was still comfortable. 

soshiro gently raised his right arm since it was uninjured and used his hand to smoothly tuck your other strands of hair behind your ear. you looked at him, raising an eyebrow at his gesture. he smiles at you in return. “your hair might get in the way. we don’t want my stitches to have your hair stuck in them now, don't we?”

you quickly finish up the stitch and put gauze on top as well. “i’m sorry.” soshiro’s apology is as genuine as it always is whenever he gets treated in this same room. “i’m starting to feel quite better now, though. couldn’t do it without my favorite nurse.” he continues, as he grabs ahold of your unoccupied hand.

he hears you chuckle at his words as you interlock your fingers together. “avoid arduous training or activities for a good one week and you’ll be good as new.” you said, sighing as now you’re finally done with treating your boyfriend. “eh? no fair. i have to go help the rookies train the day after tomorrow.”

“i’m sure captain ashiro would let you off the hook in the meantime, soshiro.”

“oh, we’re on a first name basis now?” he asks, and this time it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. you bring your other hand up to his cheek, caressing it as your thumb grazes his cheek bone. he leans into your palm as if it were a reflex. “we’ve always been on a first name basis, dummy.” you say.

“maybe all of my pain could go away if you just gave me a little kiss, you know, as your vice captain.”

“now that’s just abuse of authority. do you ask other nurses for a kiss too?” you pouted.

“that’s why your my favorite nurse.” he replies, clearly emphasizing the word “favorite” as he steals a kiss from you.

yeah, vice captain soshiro hoshina definitely does not play favorites.

[ktsumu]

18+ NSFT MDNI. POLY MATSUHANA. ALCOHOL.

“What do you mean you don’t like making out?”

Makki looks at you like you’ve betrayed him, on his side of the couch with his half-full beer can in hand. “That’s the best part!”

You shrug. “Dunno. Just never been with the right person, I guess.”

“That’s some bullshit. Guys don’t even know how to kiss a girl right? We used to hunt, you know—“

“Makki sucks at it, too,” Issei chimes, leaning against the other end of the couch with his own can half-empty. He nurses it in one hand, lazily plays with a curl in the other. “Can’t say shit.”

“What the fuck? I’m such a good kisser,”

“You—“

“Wait, why do you know how good or bad he is?” you ask, turning towards Issei on your left.

Over your head, he and Makki share a grin.

“Actually? Forget I asked.”

“Don’t be green, friends kiss all the time.”

“Yeah, sure.”

You slide your back down the couch, crossing your arms over your chest as you focus back on the movie playing on the TV. Your cheeks feel hot.

You’re aware of their legs craned out to rest on the coffee table, a set on either side of you. You’re watching them out of your line of view, but when Makki’s head cranes back over the couch to look at the man to your left, you lose track of them.

They’re bickering, you can tell. Issei keeps breathing out little laughs and Makki’s making obscene hand gestures, shaking the cushions when he tries to reach behind you and smack him.

It’s the fifth time the couch jerks that you groan, pushing yourself back upright to break them up.

“Can you not?” you groan. “I’m trying to finish the movie?”

“I’ll stop when he admits I’m not a shit kisser.”

“Too much tongue, babe.”

“I was drunk!”

You swallow. “You’re probably both good kissers, okay? Settle it at that.”

They quiet after that.

The room gets quiet, save for the wind coming through the window and the movie playing still. There’s a steady picking on fraying cushion behind you, no doubt from Makki’s antsy hand.

“You think we’re both good?” Issei prods.

“Sure. Whatever floats your guys’ boats.”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“How would I know, Issei?”

The three of you— you’re close enough friends by now that silence is rarely awkward, but you’re not dumb. You know what hole you just dug.

Dig your grave and lie in it, or whatever.

“You wanna find out, then?” he asks, maybe a little quieter if you’re paying close attention.

Makki is hot against your other side, leaning ahead to see the both of you as good as he can. You slink back a little into the sofa— you’re in deep literally and metaphorically.

Issei slips his hand up your leg, watching your lips part the second he sets his eyes on yours. It stays on the backside, coming back up to skip over your ass, resting on your back.

His other hand is hot on the side of your face, tilting your chin up so you’re almost touching him.

“Can I show you something?”

You huff a quick breath, and nod even quicker.

Issei takes you whole, it doesn’t feel like just a kiss. It’s not just lips, even though it starts that way— it’s a graze of his teeth against your jaw before he steals your breath away that makes you slump down the couch, an exchange of power that gives your all to him.

He’s languid and slow, tongue taunting yours and his hand dauntingly large on your side. Makki’s slips beneath his and then under your sweater, nails scratching beneath your navel as they span over your skin.

You forget to breathe. He tastes like espresso and a good time. You lose track of whose hands are which. You don’t know anyone but them. You forget any other lips who have ever tasted yours.

When you reach up into his hair, knotting your knuckles in his curls, Makki takes the back of your neck and pulls you back. You’re looking at Issei, but he doesn’t look mad.

He’s smiling. You blink. You’re looking at Makki, now, and he’s smiling too.

“My turn?” He says it like a question. He might be saying it like he’s begging.

Makki moves so he’s just about on top of you, coming from above when you lean your head back to see him from below. He’s quicker than Issei, hard against your teeth and against your thigh, dizzying in how he pushes and pulls, rutting against you like he’s always wanted this.

Issei tugs your leg over his, smoothing his hand up the inside of it, skipping over where you’re too sheepish to say you want it.

It rests on your stomach, fingertips dipping beneath your waistband as Makki groans so low it vibrates in your throat. They’re playing give and take with you, back and forth like magnets, closing in and giving you space again like a corset.

Issei’s hand cups your chest and Makki’s rests on your throat. You’re being swallowed whole, and all you want them to do is spit you up and do it all over again.

Then, the storm breaks, and when you come to, they’re starry-eyed and staring at you.

“What?” you gasp.

You turn your head back and forth, looking between them like you’re checking your blind spots. You still think somethings gonna come out of nowhere and hit you; bring you back to reality.

“Nothing,” Issei shrugs. But, he leans back. “Do you wanna stay overnight? Save you a drive in the dark.”

They surround you. They encapsulate you differently, like smoke and water. You’re hot and all too aware of the things you’d say yes to.

Makki’s fingers burn against your shoulder, dragging the collar of your top down your collarbone as you nod.

Issei grins, cheshire and warm. “Mm, good.”

[harveylikestoart]

Keeping up with the Freemans.

[dykeriver]

can i just say… gamer!ellie playing something or another on her desktop when you crawl between her legs and pull her loose boxers down (and now, she’s gaming, obviously she isn’t wearing any pants). she’s so preoccupied with her game that she doesn’t even process what you’re doing, eyes glued to the screen. she finally notices when you part her thighs, blowing a cold gust of air on her exposed cunt. she’s already a little wet and you smile. “babe wh-” is all she can get out before you’re diving in, her slick salty-sweet against your tongue. she whimpers, dropping her hands to your hair and gently clenching two fistfuls of it. “no. play.” you tell her, bringing your fingers to her now sopping wet pussy, sliding into her velvety hole with two fingers. she chokes out this high, sweet sound, and shakily palms her mouse once again.

she obviously loses.

[thebumblingbookbee]

Give me Tiberius Blackthorn gay panicking over Kit or give me death

I NEED his reactions to older brother Kit, softened by love Kit, denim jacket Kit, finally eating well and getting sunlight Kit who probably looks even better than when Ty first fell in love Kit

GIVE ME GIVE ME GIVE ME

[insomniac2612]

the thing about the dark artifices is that it doesn’t just hit you with romance (though the romance wrecks me). it’s the love. ALL the love.

"world fucking collapses without u" kind. the desperate, “death cant separate us” kind. the “i know you better than i know myself” kind. the kind that tears me to shreds.

emma and cristina?? soulmates. no other word. ride or die. protectors of each other’s hearts.

julian and his siblings?? he raised them. protected them. sacrificed everything for them.

clary and emma?? emma looking up to her like a big sister, like a living legend.

kit and ty?? two lost boys trying to find safety in each other and not quite knowing how.

dru?? watching everything, loving so fiercely, being underestimated and STILL showing up.

livvy? bieng what holds everything together in all universes. being the source of hope in all universes.

kit ty and livvy?? love in its most complicated, tangled form — and fuckin beautiful.

jem, tessa, and kit?? literally ancient love and newfound hope colliding into something soul wreckingly painful

and the blackthorns. THE BLACKTHORNS.

the heart. the spine. the core.

love isn’t just a theme in tda. it’s the actual language.

romantic love, platonic love, playful love, selfless love, family love, obsessive love. Its written in every dialouge, every choice, every character, every sequence. and that’s why it stays with me.

[boyfriendstevie]

sturdy

steve wants to test out the desk he just built for you | everyone say thank you @superblysubpar for encouraging me to write this hehe | 2.7k, f!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv. don't do it kids. 18+ as always!! mdni!!

“Babe! C’mere!” Steve calls from the spare bedroom, echoing down the hall of your new apartment. 

You’re in the kitchen, starting to unpack a few boxes there, while Steve had been working on putting together your new desk. Obviously, you’re more than capable of putting your own desk together, but Steve had offered, and, well, sometimes you have to make the patriarchy work for you. Placing the half-unpacked box of silverware onto the counter, you shout back a reply and head through the maze of boxes to the bedroom, “I’m comin’! Give me a sec!”

When you reach the bedroom, Steve’s standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looks at his handiwork. His back is to you, so he doesn’t notice when you come in, and you take a second to admire him. He’s quite the sight; wearing an old pair of gym shorts that are a bit too small for him, a well-worn shirt that might be yours — you’re not sure from this angle — and a baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. He looks so good, and it hits you then, just how lucky you are. How lucky you are to be living with your ridiculously handsome boyfriend who offers to build things for you out of the kindness of his heart and looks ridiculously good while doing so. 

“Hon—“ the word dies on his lips as he turns around to find you standing in the doorway. A grin stretches across his face at the sight of you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You starin’ at me, stalker?”

“So what if I was?” you ask, crossing the room so you can throw your arms over his shoulders, “I can’t admire my hot boyfriend?”

A strong arm wraps around your waist to pull you close. He hums in thought before shrugging, “I’ll allow it, I guess. If you give me a kiss.”

“Deal,” you murmur as you lean up on your toes to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. It’s short and sweet, but you don’t mind. “Thanks for building the desk, baby.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he hums quietly in reply, dipping down one more time for a quick peck on the lips. His hand rubs over the curve of your hip gently as he adds, “Hopefully it’s sturdy enough…”

“Steve, I’m sure it’s fine, as long as you followed the directions—“

“Maybe we could test it out?” he asks, giving you a cheeky grin, eyebrows raised in question. 

You snort a laugh, eyebrows furrowing together. You’re pretty sure you know what he’s getting at, but you ask anyway, “And how would we do that?”

His smile grows, looking a bit more mischievous as he turns you around and slowly begins walking you back towards the desk. You let him lead you, giggling with your hands on his shoulders, until you bump into the desk. He leans down to kiss you again, and just before your lips touch, he squeezes your hips and mutters, “Up, honey.”

It’s a messy kiss, your lips nearly missing Steve’s in the effort to get up onto the desk, even with him helping you up. You briefly wonder if this is safe — you have no doubt that Steve built the desk well, but you highly doubt that it’s made to support a whole human’s weight — but the thought quickly passes by when Steve takes your thighs into his hands and pulls you towards the edge of the desk for a proper kiss. 

Steve’s nose nudges into yours, poking at your cheek as he kisses you, lips slotting against yours. He kisses you as if he hasn’t kissed you in days, groaning into your mouth as you rock your hips forward, searching for his touch. You let out a whine when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, tongue quickly following suit to soothe the bite. 

“You know, I was— I was mostly kidding,” Steve pants when he pulls back between kisses, lips pink and wet as his tongue darts out. 

“I know,” you reply with a huff of a laugh, twisting your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “But you look so fucking hot, and you just built me a whole ass desk, and we fucking live together now, and— please just fuck me on the desk, baby.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he quickly agrees, not quiet believing his stupid line actually worked, and that you’re spurring him on as you wiggle your leggings down your hips and legs. The fabric gets stuck at your knees, and Steve springs into action, murmuring something about how it’s his job to undress you as he pulls at the fabric until he can drop it to the floor. 

His hands land on your thighs again, thumbs pressing to the soft flesh at the inside of your thighs as they push up towards your core, spreading your legs apart as he goes. There’s no mistaking the small damp spot in the center of your panties as you squirm under Steve’s gaze. Pressing the pads of his thumbs to the crease at the apex of your thighs, he finally looks back up to you and asks, “Can I taste you first?”

Your answer is a quiet, choked moan and a frantic nod, “Please.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice, sinking to his knees in front of the desk as he pulls you closer. It’s the perfect height for this; your burning core only inches from Steve’s hot mouth. He wastes no time in leaning forward, pressing the softest of kisses to the growing wetness there, nose nudging against your clit through your underwear. A low groan comes from deep in his chest, “Can I take these off?”

Before Steve can even finish his sentence you’re nodding again, lifting your hips off of the desk as best you can so he can pull the fabric from your body. As soon as your underwear is on the floor, he’s back on you, licking a broad stripe up your cunt that has you gasping in surprise at his eagerness, “Steve—“

“Mmm,” he hums as his tongue finds your clit, sending vibrations up your spine as he sucks softly and rolls the sensitive nub between his lips. 

It makes you keen, a high-pitched whine that might be embarrassing if you weren’t so blissed out. Your legs tremble as he kisses back down towards your dripping entrance, and your fingers twitch with the need to hold onto something. How Steve always makes you feel untethered so quickly, you’ll never know, but you remedy the problem easily, pushing his hat off of his head. It’s perfect timing on your part; your fingers rake through his soft hair just as his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your slick. 

You pull at the strands a bit harder than you mean to and Steve moans against you. The sound isn’t quite loud enough for you to hear, but you can feel it. The sensation makes your legs close around Steve’s head, but an arm curls around one thigh before it can press against him. It doesn’t take much for Steve to push your leg back down and hold you open for him, despite how much you’re squirming. 

Steve pulls back after another sloppy kiss to your clit, lips shining with your slick and his own spit. He’s grinning, borderline smug as he nuzzles into the crease of your thigh again, nipping the delicate skin there, “Y’always taste so sweet, baby. Only fitting that my pretty girl has the prettiest pussy, huh?” 

You squirm again, this time in embarrassment, and huff a pathetic whine, “Steve, stop—“

“Well I can’t lie,” he all but giggles, pressing a kiss to your hipbone as his gaze drags up your body to meet your eyes, “Want me to keep going? Or d’ya want my cock?”

Both sound like great options, but you can see the outline of his hard cock in his slightly-too-small shorts, and you want him. Reaching down to brush some hair out of Steve’s face, you murmur, “You. Want you.”

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he smiles, sweeter this time, giving your thigh another kiss before he pulls himself up to stand. 

Your chest heaves as you reach for him, taking the fabric of his shirt into your grasp and yanking him closer for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his mouth, but you don’t really mind, especially as his hands roam up your sides, inching underneath your shirt to cup your breasts. He’s teasing again, thumbs barely brushing over your nipples. But two can play at that game, even while he’s kissing you so hard you can barely breathe, and you slip a hand between you, palming his hard cock over his shorts. 

“Okay, okay,” he pants after a moment of shaky breaths and wandering hands, “Can you— will you bend over for me? ‘S that alright?”

Instead of answering, you slide off of the desk and cup Steve’s face in your hands to give him a firm kiss. You make a show of turning around, leaning over your brand new desk until your forearms press to the wood grain. You hear a small groan from behind you as you push your hips backwards, ass pressing to Steve’s bulge, “Christ, sweetheart. How’d I get so goddamn lucky? Fuckin’ gorgeous, and all f’me.” 

Warm hands spread wide over your hips, the pad of Steve’s thumb rubbing a short line over one of the dimples in the small of your back. He gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze before his touch is gone. You huff a whine at the loss of warmth and you hear a quiet chuckle from behind you, “Relax, baby. Gimme a second.”

There’s a quiet rustle of clothing, and then Steve’s hands are back on you, pulling you back towards him. You’re about to complain, to ask him to do something, anything, when you finally feel the tip of his cock nudge against your entrance. Your breath catches as he pushes his hips forward, finally sinking into you slowly. He takes it easy, knowing that you’re plenty wet, but maybe not quite warmed up enough from just his mouth. 

He stops when the front of his thighs press against the backs of yours, fingertips dimpling your hips with how firmly he’s holding onto you. Like he’s worried you might slip away. You moan softly at the aching stretch of your cunt, dizzy with how full you feel of Steve, Steve, Steve. He’s all you want — all you can think about, “Oh f-fuuck… Stevie…”

You swear you can feel his thighs quivering against yours as he stills inside of you. You can hear the grit in his voice, picture the way his jaw is clenched, as he murmurs, “Okay?”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you nod emphatically, maybe a bit too quickly, voice a higher pitch than normal, “So good, baby. Move, please move, need y-yo—“

The words die on your lips as Steve draws his hips back slowly and then presses back in. Your head falls forward, mouth dropping open in pleasure with a whine. You feel hot everywhere; a warmth that starts in tummy and spreads slowly, creeping up your torso and chest, into your limbs, until it feels like your body is on fire in the best way. 

His hips roll in and out of your tight heat. It feels so good, and somehow, you still need more. Your forearms press further into the desk as you shift, pushing up on your toes to tilt your hips. You know that if you’re in just the right position, Steve will find the spot that makes you see stars. Desperate for the feeling, you shift again and hear a huff from behind you at the movement. 

Steve knows what you want, and pushes his arm underneath you, between your body and the desk. His hands press to the softness of your tummy and to the curve of your hips as he pulls you into a better position, angling your hips so he can reach even deeper. The new angle has you gasping with each thrust, a punched-out sound that you can’t help between whimpers of Steve’s name and expletives. Steve’s not fairing much better, and you can hear the low grunt he lets out every time his skin meets yours, “You’re so wet— fuck, sweetheart — y’hear that? Hear how wet you are f’me? Feel so good ‘round me, baby. So good for me.”

“Y-yes, yeah — ah, Steve! — all yours,” you babble in an attempt to answer him, though you’re too fucked out to be all that coherent. 

Seconds later, you get exactly what you’d been wanting when you’d shifted your hips; the head of Steve’s cock pressing to the spot inside of you that turns you to putty. The moment he finds it, your legs go weak, and Steve’s grasping onto you even tighter in an attempt to keep you somewhat upright. His arm curls across your midsection, and you feel his warmth against your back as he presses his chest to you. You can feel his breath, hot against the nape of your neck as he murmurs, “Right there, baby? That’s what you wanted, huh?” 

You clench around him, making the drag of his cock that much sweeter. The feeling pulls a deep moan out of Steve, sending shivers down your spine as he twitches inside of you. One of the hands on your waist pushes up under your shirt until he can press against your sternum, and then he’s pulling you almost upright. Your eyes meet his in the vanity mirror attached to the desk, and you moan at the sight; you look just as fucked out as you feel, and so does Steve. 

Lips on your neck, Steve hums, pleased, “There’s my girl. Look at yourself, honey, so so pretty on my cock, yeah?” 

“Stevie,” you whine his name, and he’s sure it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, “‘m close, ‘m so close.“ 

“Y’gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart? C’mon, honey, know ya can,” he says, his free hand snaking down your torso and your hips to find your clit. He circles it quickly, over and over, just how you like, and with his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you fall apart with a cry of his name. 

He’s not far behind you, hips never slowing their pace, even as he bends you back over the desk. Every wave of pleasure has your cunt clenching around him, and it pushes Steve over the edge, too, with whiny groans against your skin where his face is pressed. You can feel him spill deep inside of you and you shudder, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls forward, hitting the desk with a small thunk. 

Steve’s teeth sink into the smooth skin of your shoulder, quick and gentle, more of a nip, as he presses his chest to your back. Soft kisses soothe over the small bites, and then Steve’s pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breath hot and heavy as he nuzzles there. You pant into your arms folded on the desk and melt into Steve’s touch as his hand rubs lovingly across your hip bones. 

“Y’alright, baby?” he asks, out of breath. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, post-orgasm haze still clouding your thoughts. 

“Good,” you can feel the curve of his lips against your spine, followed by a few soft kisses that trail down your back. He stops halfway down, hands settling onto your hips as he stands back up and slowly pulls out. 

You wince, still so sensitive, but let Steve pull you up and off of the desk, turning you around so your lips can meet his. He kisses you on the mouth, once, twice, and trails a kiss over to your cheek. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you let out a breathless laugh, “I think it’s sturdy enough.”

Steve huffs in amusement, “Thank god. Imagine if it broke while we were on it. And, good news, we just checked the office off of the ‘places we still need to fuck in the new apartment’ list.”

“If you bring me to the bathroom right now, we can check off another one.”

Eyes going wide, Steve grins, literally whisking you off of your feet as he says, “Deal.”