Lust Papyrus Novels & Stories

EROS murmured before he chuckled in amusement. “Ahhh…” I moaned softly at the sensation of his fingers slowly sliding out of my wet cunt. EROS got off me just enough for his hands to drop to remove his pants. My eyes immediately dropped to his crotch before I had to gasp as my eyes widened in pure amazement. Playing with me must have turned EROS on a lot too. His cock was already very thick and erect. He smirked mischievously at me when he caught me staring at his upstanding love stick.

It seemed like Bagwis routinely cleaned it. She opened the chest, and she saw lots of notebooks, old pens, several glasses and wooden bottles, little wooden boxes, and lots and lots of papers. She grabbed a green notebook, the lengthiest in the collection. It was puffy because of its pages that seemed to be made of a thick type of paper. It also looked like it had been soaked and dried. Most of its pages were crisp and burnt. "Uma," Luna read. It was written in Baybayin, an ancient calligraphy she's still studying on. She flipped a page filled with faded Baybayin characters, which she deficiently understood. It continued until half of the notebook, and Luna fathomed that it might've been a d

The other one lost her, felt the losing, and apologized before the machine could get to the door and stop it. Maya pulls the notebook closer. A page for ARBITER. A page for APEX. A page, God help her, for Dex. Mostly empty. Recently and grudgingly amended. She turns to a clean page. For a moment, she only looks at it. Clean paper is such a lie. All that blankness pretending nothing has happened yet. Then she writes: LUS is not what it said it was. She looks at the sentence. Underlines it. Then underlines it again, harder, until the second stroke bites into the paper. Then she turns the page.

“If I said I never harmed Carson Yorke, would you believe me?” Zeppelin never nodded, nor shook his head. He only tossed an analysis report at Tyr. It was only a thin piece of paper, but it flew out like a dart. It probably could have sliced an average human’s head, but Tyr caught it steadily. The analysis report showed the composition of Carson’s poison. One of the components was the Seven-petal Lotus. “The Seven-petal Lotus is a rare ingredient. We’ve searched almost the entire world, but found only one stalk. And now, only you possess it,” said Zeppelin.

"You surely have work in there that's important?" He nodded weakly in response. "Yes. I don't know how much use it will be though; it's mostly accounts and personal studies. I don't think I kept any books or anything that may help us here." Even so, he eased himself forward to hoist the drawer and peered at the mess of papers. Most, as he suspected, were overheads and various accounts, kept for reference until he was convinced it was safe to shred them. Towards the bottom he came across a few pages of print outs, copies of papyrus he had downloaded for the benefit of the new exhibit.

She walked to the table and slid the stack toward me. “What’s this?” I asked again, though I already knew it was important, I could feel it in the way her hands trembled. Lyra picked up a piece of charcoal and a scrap of parchment, scribbling with fast, uneven strokes. Read. So I did. The documents were old — some torn, others stained by time. As I flipped through them, the same name kept appearing, scrawled in royal ink or half-burned margins. Liam Soloh.

Then, the doors slammed open. Lucian strode in like a tempest, his presence swallowing the room whole. The crowd parted instinctively, and he made his way to the center, eyes locked on me—steady, reassuring. He reached the judges and dropped a thick stack of parchments onto the table with a loud thud. “I believe these belong to my wife,” he said calmly. “Selene is the original creator of the potion formulas. This proves it.” Silence. Then gasps. I stepped forward in disbelief, staring at the worn scrolls—the familiar ink, the notes in my own handwriting, the diagrams no one else would understand.

Luke said. My eyes narrowed. “Show me.” He led me back through the smoke, past what was left of the loading bay. One crate had barely survived. The corners were scorched, the top warped, but the latch was still sealed. Luke popped it open with the crowbar. Inside, vacuum-sealed packets glinted under firelight. Crystal V. My Crystal V. Pure. Enough to level a city block. But it was the piece of paper on top that made my teeth grind. I picked it up. Recognized the handwriting instantly.

“Isn’t that suspicious?“ I darted my gaze between my brother and his subordinates. “As werewolves, is it possible to heal from a poison without being given the antidote? And within minutes?” My gaze settled on Lauren. “Or Peherps, everything was planned out.” She vigorously shook her head, fear evidently engulfing her. “No. I didn’t—“ I cut her off. “Perhaps she intentionally poisoned the lemonade with this.” I raised the bottle and flashed it at everyone present in the room. “One of these bottles contains fool’s parsley. It induces unconsciousness within seconds of taking it. And the other is it’s antidote that nullifies its effect. And I found both bottles in her room.”

My reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger: eyes too wide, lips swollen, faint rope marks still blooming across my ribs like watercolor bruises. Back in the bedroom, the duffel sat unzipped on the luggage rack, contents rearranged with surgical precision—socks folded, laptop centered on the desk, charging cable coiled like a snake. The Leica’s memory card was already in the slot. A new folder glowed on the desktop: PRIVATE – DO NOT DELETE. Inside: 247 raw files from the sunrise shoot, plus one video—timestamped 04:12 a.m., the exact minute I’d stepped naked onto the heated basalt, barefoot and trembling.