#And reposting to ao3

[erinwantstowrite]

father son-isms

yo so i did NOT mean to stay up this late drawing this? it's like 2AM and i have shit to do tomorrow so that's fun! i guess i can deal with it for my babes, they're lucky they're so cute

[twotangledsisters]

A quick reminder that fanfics shouldn't be reposted anywhere ever unless you have the express permission of the author.

You want to translate a fic? Awesome, ask!

You want to make a podfic? Amazing, ask!

But it's disrespectful to an author to take their content and repost without telling them, EVEN if you did transformative work on it.

Yes, fanfics are free, and on ao3 they are even downloadable, but they are downloadable for private use! For you to have on your kindle and read in whatever format best suits you. Not to be REPOSTED on another site!

Please, please, if you want authors to continue posting stories publically you have to respect an author's desire to maintain some level of ownership over their work.

[aspecbuddie]

I keep seeing posts that remind me people primarily read fic on laptop which I find ridiculously hard to do most of the time so although this has probably been done before...

(please reblog if you feel like it, I'm curious and have a very small amount of followers 😅😅)

[k0mmari]

Locked and Loaded- Chapter 01: This Town Ain't Big Enough For The Two Of Us This one is a little late to the party, but better late than never!

[trashydez]

like a phoenix. (2.7k words)

what if phoenix- instead of being virtually indestructible, actually wasnt? what if he was actually incredibly prone to death, but he just… never stayed dead?

(trigger warning for a multitude of causes of deaths!! some in detail and some not. other tw’s include implied suicide attempts, implied child neglect, derealisation and thinking one is already dead. be warned! take care of yourself!)

at 9, he wakes in his bed after having a high fever and his mom ships him off to school hours after it began. he finds it odd, because last he’d checked his temperature (that morning, when he told his mom he felt like he was going to die and his mom had left to go run errands, barely sparing him a glance), his temperature had been at 107 degrees farenheit. that was definitely high, but after he slipped into unconsciousness, writhing and restless and in a lot of pain, he woke up to his mother checking his temperature and saying he was fine to head off to school. he didnt feel fine, but his temperature had gone down significantly enough that his mother felt like he had no excuse not to go. hes glad he went to school though, even as he shivered, sneezed and sniffled, because there he found a friend in a boy with a funny bowtie and a heart made of gold.

he crunches and chokes on glass shards and poison but doesnt die. the doctors dont find anything wrong with him, aside from feeling a bit ill, so he goes back into the courtroom and dollie is convicted of murder. hes happy his roommate is away for some theatre troupe thing, because the sickness eventually catches up to him and he throws up shards of glass, acid and blood. it cuts into his throat and burns his eyes and he swears, he swears he dies right then and there, freezing and shaking and everything hurts. but when he wakes up hours later, the sun having set and the only light source in his dingy dormroom the moon outside, hes amazed to not feel sick anymore. but the puddle of sludge is drying beside his face and he considers himself lucky, or maybe unlucky, because unlike dahlia’s other victims, he actually lives to tell the tale.

phoenix arrives early to the office, having been in the public library nearby reading a book on reincarnation. he enters the office and promptly has his skull caved into his brain. he does not see his assailant, but when he wakes, theres an oddly dressed girl crying, crouched over his boss’ cold body. he doesn’t think about the drying blood in the back of his head, or how cold mia’s body is (and why he can even tell, considering the fact he has not touched her corpse) or the chapter in the book he’d been reading that talked about quantum immortality— all he thinks of is proving maya fey’s innocence.

as it turns out, being constantly anxious and terrified of mortal peril actually has its perks. maybe the fact he’s a lawyer whose only ever dealt with homicide cases definitely wasn’t benefiting his mental wellbeing either. in any case, its that fear of literally everything and constant feeling of impending doom that makes his body react before his mind does. taser! danger! maya! so, he gets tasered. and it fucking HURTS, but he feels more relieved than frightened as the searing pain shoots through him, because he’d been able to push maya away before von karma got to them both. wasnt a symptom of death by electrocution an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and imminent death? maybe he was going crazy. when he comes back though, its to his head in the lap of a crying spirit medium, so maybe a psychotic break isnt too bad if it means everyone else gets to escape with no damage to their own psyche.

its only after she stops screaming in terror- oh my god, nicks a zombie!! kyahh!!!- and nearly beating him with her bulky magatama necklace, that she tells him what she saw. (“like, there was a sudden bright light and then i realised it was coming from you! but when i tried to touch your glowing skin,” she says it like its the most absurd thing she’d ever seen, which really said something considering the fact she was from a family of people who could channelthe dead “it was HOT! like, japanifornia summer hot! blazing! i was only able to check your pulse after you cooled down a bit…”). maybe its this that makes him less alarmed by the way his skin glowed in the dark of his trashed bedroom, after drinking himself to death following a certain phone call from a terribly sad, newly bossless detective. he doesnt think he can bear the taste alcohol ever again, after that.

maybe the number of times he’s died of blunt force trauma to the head should be a cause for concern, even more so when he wakes up without any of his memories. he’s terrified, and doesnt even knows who he is, until he does, and is able to prove maggey byrde innocent. fun times! he should probably watch out to make sure his next death wasn’t to the head, lest he be as mentally impaired as a number of people liked to say he was… (and he should probably also be concerned by the fact he was already thinking of the next time he’d die, but ah well, blame it on the concussion).

as it turns out, getting whipped to death was not on his list of ways he thought he’d die next, but life liked to mess with him like that, it seemed. still, dragging his delirious self to the bathroom of his office to try and save the infected wounds from killing him wasn’t all that fun, and he’s immediately reminded of his first death, slow and painful, alone and scared of what came next. he feels bad for feeling relieved when maya shows up and screams upon seeing the state he and the bathroom (that’d he’d accidentally trashed when his legs gave out after he opened the door, a number of bottles fallen to the floor beside him) were in. he stops her from calling the police- there was no point, he didn’t have much time left. but when she asks what she could do, he goes quiet. (…just… stay here? i dont- he coughs up a distinctly red shade of spit. maya makes a noise between a choked cry and a whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. but phoenix was shivering worse now, and hugs himself tigher. i dont want to die alone.) so she stays with him, on the cold bathroom floor, as his labored breathing eventually slows. when he awakens, he finds maya asleep leaning against him, and promises to get her burgers as a thank you.

who knew death by a monkey throwing a giant bronze bust of max galactica at you could happen? at this point, he’s almost glad he was basically immortal, because there was no way in hell he’d allow his autopsy report to say ‘cause of death: monkey manslaughter’! edgeworth would laugh himself to tears if he saw! not that he could see. or cry, because he was dead. and not coming back. damn.

so edgeworth isnt dead! yippee? he thought it was his thing to get reanimated after death, not edgeworths. when he saw him, standing in the middle of the police department, alive and breathing and very much not dead, he nearly started laughing. he must’ve finally gone insane! curse the amount of times he’d died of brain related injuries, not that he knew how many of them there were at this point. he might actually have laughed a bit, because pearls was looking at him like he was losing it (he was) but he couldnt really bring himself to care as he had more pressing issues at hand, like saving his best friend from a crazy serial killer holding her hostage, and punching his other best friend in the face for faking his own death (because really, dying was his thing! not edgeworths!). and if he pulls edgeworth into a hug immediately after, throwing caution in the wind (you only live once, right?), the warmth- a normal, human temperature, unlike his burning hot when he came back from death- is enough to stabilise his harried mind for just a moment, before he has to return to his guilty client and his hopeless situation.

by some crazy turn of events, he actually doesnt die from having boiling hot coffee thrown at his face. it burns, and maya screams when she sees the boils on his face after that first trial with godot, but after throwing a wet towel over his face and putting him in timeout on the sofa for 12-hours, the burns go away as if they were never there. he fell asleep at some point, and after alot of back and forth debate, they eventually came to the conclusion that 1. his body heat rising to burning levels when he dies must have caused his body has to grow immune to heat and 2. since sleep was like a ‘temporary death’, a ‘temporary wound’ would just heal like it did when he died of normal wounds, right? he didn’t want to dwell on it too much, because maya was looking at him like she wanted to test that theory for real, so he quickly changes topics before things got out of hand.

so their theory on the immunity to heat thing was correct! …almost. larry had tried to stop him, but it was fire and he was basically immune to heat, right? nope! his skin burned and boiled but he didn’t die as he tried to run across the burning bridge. even so, nothing hurt more than falling through one of the burnt planks and slamming onto the surface of the freezing cold rushing stream below. luckily the death was near immediate, but unfortunately he came to while in the water still, so he swallowed a sizeable amount of water before paramedics arrived. he hears the doctors find his survival miraculous, despite the scorching hot fever he was now under. he blacks out again, and comes to in the hospital, feeling absolutely terrible.

the horribleness feels familiar though, and when edgeworth walks in, he realises what it must be, when the man presses the back of his hand to his temple and quickly pulls his hand away as if burned. (oh. he thinks, tearing up despite himself. it must be the fever. i’m going to die like this again.) his internal monologue must’ve been external though, because edgeworth balks (‘again?!’). but phoenix was crying in hiccups and sobs, feeling terrible and like he was nine years old again, wishing his mother were there to nurse him back to health like she’d never done before. he faintly hears edgeworth sitting down on his bed and reaches out, gripping the mans waist like it was a lifeline. in a sense, it was. “don’t go.” he whispers, gripping the man tighter like he’d disappear into thin air (again). “please, please don’t go.” in his delirium, he nearly wails in despair when he feels edgeworth move, but he was only moving to readjust himself so he’s lying next to him, their bodies so close that it must burn, but the only sign edgeworth shows that he’s in pain is a wince and the crease of his brow. he allows himself to be cried on, curling a protective arm over phoenix’s burning body. “i- i dont know what’s going on, wright, but i’m not, i’m not going anywhere, okay?” he seems to be attempting exasperation, but it comes out terrified and concerned, but phoenix is fading quickly, so it might just be his waning mind making up things that don’t exist. “i am terrified. your body is life threateningly hot and— wright? wright!”

he comes to with nurses surrounding him, and a distressed edgeworth swearing on his life that that man was dead, his body was seizing and on fire and- and his heart stopped beating! but phoenix couldn’t dwell on it, because the mention of fire immediately brought him back to why he was in the hospital at all. and plus, it gave him the chance to use his best friends sensitive treatment of him afterwards to convince him to play defense attorney, so that was nice. still, he feels like he dies when he finds out dahlia had actually been iris and that godot was actually his dead mentors apparently not dead boyfriend. oh, and he was also a murderer. he also feels like he dies when dahlia- actual, serial killer and dead by execution dahlia, was exorcised from maya’s body. but that had more to do with his soul leaving his body in terror rather than actually dying, so that was a nice change of pace… probably.

later, he’d had to have a conversation with edgeworth to give him an explanation on just what the hell he’d witnessed in that hospital room. although, apparently his re-aliving symptoms must’ve started becoming more dramatic, because miles describes it as his whole body glowing as bright as the sun, and then his eyes opening for a moment to reveal nothing but white, glowing eyeballs with no irises. phoenix has to convince him to still board his flight the day after, that he was okay… probably. maybe not safe, but definitely okay. (still, edgeworth stays the night at his, and they hold eachother close, basking in the shared warmth of two alive bodies in heat equilibrium, listening to eachothers breathing and rhythmic heartbeats, no signs of impending mortality in sight, save for, what did the french call it? la petite morte? most of all, phoenix basks in the promise miles makes to him. “i’m not going anywhere,” he repeats, over and over like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was phoenix. “i’m not going anywhere, i promise.”)

and when he loses his badge, he thinks he really does die, permanent and definitively. he feels far away from his body when the forger is called to the witness stand. feels like a ghost when the council walks out the room and past him, making no eye contact and answering the unanswered question on the tip of his tongue. feels his life crumble to pieces when a blonde man with a pleasent, almost saintly smile gives him the most maddeningly sympathetic look and tells him he is sorry for his loss, as if there really was someone dead. only, the only one dead must’ve been him, because there was no one else there who had just lost their life. he couldn’t even hear himself as he laughed, which turned into sobs, as he excused himself and fleed to his bicycle. not one pedestrian bats an eye at the state he is in, so he must really be a ghost, cycling past speeding cars and large trucks and buses as if it couldn’t kill him, because he wasn’t there, he was already dead. when he reaches his office, freezing and quiet and dreadfully void of any human life, he passes by the window his boss had died at and sees his reflection, unkempt and red faced and badgeless. he wants to scream, but he couldn’t because no one would hear a ghost scream, so instead he just sits down in the spot his mentor had lost her life in, and mourns.

when two weeks later a warm, incredible alive life falls into his hands in the shape of a little girl with a too big tophat and a joy for being alive that he’d lost years ago, well, maybe he is glad that he couldn’t die for real, if only to be able to wake up to that beaming grin as his little girl tries to pull her daddy out of bed because she’d made breakfast, and it only smells burnt because of the magic something she’d added as a special ingredient. he eats it, char and all, because he can’t taste the burnt-ness of it anyway, but he could taste the love and care put into it, and that was more than enough to take his mind away readying himself for his next death. instead, he thinks of his daughter’s next performance at the wonder bar, and their next trip to kurain, and miles’ next visit. for once, he thinks of living.

[gojoath]

⟣ welcome to gojoath's 𝒴𝒜𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑅𝐸 𝒴𝒰𝒯𝒜 masterlist! all fics include yandere themes so please read the warnings on each individual fic before interacting :) all characters are written as adults / aged up. minors dni.

listen to the playlist for the series here.

DRABBLES / FICS

˖  ݁ . ࿓ the fics are in rough order of how they happen (kinda)

hello, you — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. you think it’s a funny stroke of fate that you keep running into the same pretty stranger, albeit not in your best moments. little do you know, he’s known you for months before that.

i’ll give you my heart — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. you think it’s going well with yūta— the new guy you just started dating despite the way you’ve only seen eachother a handful of times. that’s exactly what he wants you to believe though, this is all going according to his plan.

take your turn — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. yūta has always been a giver when it comes to you and your pleasure, but you do think it’s about time that you repay the favour.

ease the ache — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. your glad your boyfriend yūta was always prepared, offering you a sleeping pill when you were having trouble was helpful— but why do you feel so needy suddenly?

two halves of a whole — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. sometimes you swear you have two boyfriends, the one that loves you and the one that fucks you. wc, 2k.

stay home instead — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. you loved your boyfriend, you did. but you think there’s only so much of his.. devoted personality you can take before the cracks begin to show. wc, 6.4k.

are you still watching? — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. your boyfriend, yūta, doesn’t ever like sharing what’s his. apparently that statement goes for your fictional crushes too. wc, 3.2k.

never have i ever — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. a party with your boyfriend isn’t something you expected to turn so sour. but maybe that’s because you didn’t expect your past relationships to start coming out.. or for one of them to be sitting in the room with you. wc, 9.2k.

learn to play nice — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. you know that your boyfriend yūta could be a little bit… difficult, but as much as you love him, you can’t let him get away with it all the time. wc, 5.1k.

the part that lingers — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. yuta finds it hard to live his life without you, it’s even harder for him to get off when you’re not there. you’ve unintentionally broken him that way. but it’s okay, he still has his ways of ending up wrapped in you. wc, 2.8k.

just as he left you — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. your (ex) boyfriend yūta decides to pay you a visit on his way home from a mission. although he forgot how pretty you look when you’re asleep.. and how hard it is to resist. wc, 6.1k.

you said forever — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. yūta’s never been one to back down easily. especially not after you told him you’d be together forever. soulmates. you can’t expect him to just let you go. wc, 4.9k.

EXTRA

just this once — 𝔂𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓮. dark content. mdni. yūta thinks it’s cruel how good you feel despite the fact he’s not felt all of you yet. he knows that you can feel better, he hopes you’ll give him all of you just once, that should be enough to keep you forever. wc, 2.9k.

© gojoath. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[rjthirsty]

Clavis Exhibitionism

Words: 2.1k

Tags: College AU, Sound Exhibitionism, Female Reader - Insert, PIV Sex, Creampie, Kinktober2024

“Perhaps we should be indulging in each other somewhere else.” Clavis offered as you snuck into his dorm room again.

Your very affectionate, very passionate, and very horny boyfriend somehow scored the room at the end of the hall, next to a fire exit that he'd let you in through, and the two of you had been making the most of it. To say you were fucking like rabbits was not far off. Every time you visited him you both ended up with your clothes stripped off, and utterly exhausted and pleasantly sore afterwards. Clavis had stamina for days. And you'd never been so taken care of before. 

“Wait, somewhere else? Why?” You went through the normal routine of removing your shoes and dropping onto his bed.

“The shifty fellow next door has made it clear he is aware of our activities.” Clavis shot a disapproving look at the wall he shared with his neighbor. 

That was quite the sentence. A multitude of emotions and thoughts simultaneously sprouted causing your jaw to drop and eyes to go wide as you turned to also look at the wall Clavis was frowning at. Your eyes darted back to Clavis and a surprised chuckle bubbled out from you as you tried not to grin too big. “You mean he can hear us?” You asked, stage whispering because now you're a little self conscious about being too loud.

“Apparently.” Clavis frowned deeper.

You bit your bottom lip, fingers covering your mouth as you touched your fingertips just above the peak of your top lip. It was shocking and delicious and kind of exciting and oh so very wrong, but incredibly bold for him to have said anything. “He's not going to snitch, right?”

“Oh, no. I don't believe that's the case.” Clavis answered, his golden gaze finally coming back to you. 

“Did he say what he heard?” Once again you bit your bottom lip, a devilish smile threatening to take over. 

“You're surprisingly inquisitive about this. Are you interested in that sort of thing?”

You set your palms on the mattress and give a small shrug with a playful head tilt, allowing the grin you've been trying to hold down to finally freely form. “And what if I am?”

Clavis’ lips quirked up in a teasing smirk. “Is that so~?”

He swept across his small bedroom to kneel in front of you, his low bed putting the both of you at nearly the same height. His fingers ghosted along the back of your ankles, sliding up your calves with the pressure of his touch increasing as he moved up your legs. “And here I thought you were an innocent one.”

You can't help but chuckle at his musing on your innocence. You were anything but. “We've all got something that excites us.”

Clavis’ hands pushed up your thighs, crossing onto your shorts where he hooked his fingers in the waistband. Eager for what was to come, you leaned back on his bed, resting on your elbows so you could lift your ass as he pulled your shorts and underwear free at the same time. He spread your legs and edged closer so he could sit between them. His fingers gripped your thighs, he had always loved your legs.

“What about you, Clavis? Doesn't the thought turn you on?” You rocked your hips from side to side, gently rolling your sex in front of him teasingly. “To know that despite our best efforts to keep me quiet, he can still hear how you make me moan. How many times have you had to cover my mouth because I couldn't think to do it myself? How many sounds did I bite down? All so we wouldn't get caught.”

His cock was steadily growing more stiff the more you spoke, and you were becoming more wet. You liked when he shushed you. You liked the thrill of being caught while he was fucking you senseless, how he had to kiss anywhere else but your mouth because to let your voice out would be the end of the fun you two had.

Clavis’ lips warmed your inner thigh. His hands gently caressed your naked legs. When he spoke, you could feel his mouth on your skin. “When you put it like that, it's almost flattering.”

“Mmhmm.” Your teeth toyed with your bottom lip. He was being a tease tonight. “And he's over there, getting turned on by us. But now how about I get the chance to moan your name? Can you imagine how sweet it would be to hear your name on my lips. He'd know how good you make me feel. He'd hear how often you were buried deep inside me. How many times you'd make me cum.”

Clavis slowly kissed up your inner thigh as you spoke. His tongue touched before lips met your leg, creeping ever closer to your waiting cunt. An appreciative groan came from him as an answer to your fantasy put into words.

“Let's make him wish he were you. Let's be noisy for once. Just this time. Let's make him envious. He could never have the real thing because I'm yours and you're the only one that can fuck me so good. Ah–” You gasped as Clavis finally reached your pussy, drawing a long lick between your folds. He repeated those delicious licks, wetting your clit by swirling his tongue around it. “Haah… nghn, Clavis.”

He moaned and the reverberation of his voice buzzed your sensitive bud. His lips puckered around it and he sucked your clit into a kiss. Fuck, he was so good with his tongue. He flicked the tip, caressed with flat licks, and varied the pressure as he played with your pussy. You could feel yourself leaking as your wetness dripped down your perineum.

Quiet keening leaked out of you. You were allowing yourself to make your enjoyment known, but still didn't want to get too loud. One neighbor knowing was fine. The whole hallway was not. Shifting, you brought your hand above your head and knocked purposefully against the shared wall. Clavis huffed mid-lick, his chuckle feeling foreign but decadent as he hummed before he spoke. “What a naughty vixen you are.”

“Uhnn--Clavis,” you moaned, his tongue circling your entrance. You wanted the guy next door to hear you call your lover's name. Imagining him pressing his ear against the wall to be certain he heard your moans thrilled you in a way you'd never experienced before.

The build up when Clavis used his mouth was always wonderful, but if you really wanted to scream you needed his cock inside you. “Mmmmn, Clavis?” You threaded your fingers through his hair. “Fuck me? Please?”

Clavis lifted his head to look at you, his golden eyes smoldering with lust. “Already? Impatient today? Or is it that you can't bear to be empty of me?”

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth to wipe your fluids from his face and worked his belt and pants loose. You crawled around the bed, turning so you were in it properly instead of short-wise how the two of you started. Knees bent, feet planted on the mattress, fingers fondling your stiff clit and the bundle of nerves that ran under the skin there, you licked your lips in anticipation as Clavis positioned himself between your knees.

“Fill me up.” You whispered seductively as you spread your labia and legs wider for him to fit.

Clavis sank into you. You were so wet he didn't need any additional strokes to bury himself fully in your cunt. He filled you and you pulsated around his cock. “Oh fuck, oh God, haaahnngh– Clavis!”

Your voice must have sparked something in him, because he gave you no time to adjust, pumping into you right away. His cock pushed into your cunt, rubbing your walls that were still trying to manage his size while also flexing around him. Ah, he felt so good, so hard. You loved to feel him bare inside you. 

Clavis scooped up your ankles, one at a time, setting your knees on his shoulders, kissing the inside of your leg as he put each one into place. Your pussy squeezed him tighter with your legs pressed together rather than spread wide around his hips. He loved the way you felt, too. The way your folds slid against his dick, the way your inner walls fluttered around him and how you felt where his tip rubbed your insides.

A moan escaped you, low and drawn out as he adjusted to push you into a mating press. His cock going even deeper and nudging against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. One of his hands grabbed your hip, as if to hold you in place as he pumped faster and pounded harder. His fingers dug into your soft flesh, leaving marks that wouldn’t bruise but would stay red for some time to come.

Instinctively, you went to cover your mouth, but remembering that you intended to put on a show for Clavis’ neighbor, you instead bit your knuckle as you let your squeaks and gasps pass through clenched teeth. Clavis was more enthusiastic than usual, his hips slapping against your ass, literally pounding the sounds out of your throat with every thrust, his weight rocking you and the bed.

Your fingers on your free hand dug into the comforter. You were close, the pressure in your belly growing tighter and tighter. Spreading your legs to drop them from Clavis’ shoulders, you opened your hips for him and felt him sink that last half-inch from nothing padding between your hips and his. His cock bottomed out, his pelvis completely flush with yours. Just a little longer and you’d be coming, you were so. Very. Close.

The noises you were making must have clued him in because after a few thrusts as deep as he could reach, Clavis ground his sex against yours, churning his cock inside you. The way his pubis mons rubbed against your clit while his dick rubbed you from the inside was exactly what you needed.

The stimulation sent the pressure bursting inside you. It snapped, cracking like a whip to the back of your skull. You might have been whimpering and keening before, but now you let out full blown moans that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. Every breath, every exhale had you loudly crying out as your cunt spasmed and clenched again and again while Clavis refused to relent, continuing to stimulate you and draw your orgasm out.

He rode through it, enjoying the way you squeezed and milked him. Dropping down to press kiss after kiss against your parted lips, he resumed rocking into you once you finally regained the ability to control your voice again. He hadn’t yet finished, and from the way he was stroking himself with your pussy, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Clavis always slowed down right before coming, like he needed to draw out the feeling of you on his cock.

“Mmmmmn. Haaaah.” You allowed yourself to make pleasurable sounds, feeling every part of his dick rubbing against your sensitive insides. Unintentionally, your cunt clenched, perhaps you liked to hear yourself too? You had never really considered it before. “Nnngh, Clavis.”

As his name passed your lips, Clavis bucked into you. Without pulling out, he thrust against you again, and then a third time, trying to bury himself deeper, his biological need to pour his seed as deep as he can taking over.

“Oh fuck–nnngh!” You couldn’t feel his seed spilling inside you, but the way his cock throbbed, and the way his hips connected with yours was telling enough. And damn! It felt so good to have him thrusting so deeply, unable to pull himself free of his instincts. Like your sexes were communicating, you couldn’t help as your pussy spasmed in response to his cock pulsating inside you. 

Clavis cuddled against you on top of you, and you brushed your fingers through his hair. It wouldn’t take him long to be ready to go again, his cock rarely ever got soft once it was hard. The both of you took your time to catch your breath, nuzzling in the warmth of each other and the heat you had generated. Your lips connected, and wet kisses were shared between the both of you. His tongue sought yours and you matched his enthusiasm.

Clavis’ hands began to wander over your body, groping all the places he hadn’t had a chance to, yet. Then an uncommon sound came from the wall shared with the neighboring room. A purposeful knock. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Your jaw dropped and Clavis’ eyes went wide before you both erupted into laughter.

“What do you say we give him another round to listen to?” You giggled, fingers trailing over Clavis’ lower back.

“Only if you make those same sounds, again. You sang beautifully.” Clavis shifted, covering your mouth with his and coaxing a low moan out of your throat.

[the-butch3r]

could write on the male reader fucked Sebastian Solace after he made a deal when the male reader was short on data/documents on getting a medkit or flashlight

Free Fishsticks?!

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Male Reader Word Count: 2.4k Content: Porn ahead (MDNI), coerced sex kinda, intersex Sebastian, top reader, Sebastian is down bad as FUCK, i don't really know how this anatomy works or just sex in general but im trying my best (born to jork it forced to research) Summary: Stupidly attempting a run without picking up any data, you get desperate for a medkit. Sebastian offers a deal.

AO3 ver.

Your legs completely ached from the mimic door you just walked into, and your heart probably needed a bandaid for that attack you just had. It wasn’t your fault, you told yourself - the room was dark, courtesy of Froger, and you didn’t have a light source, so you quickly walked into the first door you saw. Painter appeared on the door node and called you a moron, which honestly you were for doing this run, but you flipped him off anyway as soon as you could stand. Yeah, fuck that guy. Both of them. Good People tried to claw at your leg as you fell on your back, and it hurt like a bitch. You were also attacked by a squiddle for using a lantern you picked up earlier, and that ran out (because you wouldn’t admit it, but you weren’t using that sparingly), so you had no light source and were on the literal verge of death. That lantern was actually the only object you picked up this entire run, as you were trying to do some sort of speedrun without searching for data. You had a couple handfuls, maybe 75 research points, but not much. This wasn’t exactly going well, obviously. You were able to dodge Angler a few times, a wall dweller, and Froger just now, but the blacksite was an unforgiving place, and you had sorely fucked up. Your first priority was a medkit. Luckily, the next room you stumbled into was marked ‘52’, which meant that soon you’d run into Sebastian. But you wouldn’t even be able to afford a medkit from him – they were more than double the amount of research you had collected, from what you could remember, and you doubt he liked you – or anyone, for that matter – enough to give you a free medkit. Limping your way into the next few rooms with no hassle, checking behind you cautiously, you walked into door 55. A vent pried itself open in front of you, Sebastian’s voice inviting you in. You took a deep breath, dropping down to your sore knees to crawl into the vent. You’d just get in, grab the keycard, and go. Simple. Darkness was initially the one to be the first you see, but as Sebastian’s light bulb flickered on, your eyes met his. A smile crept up on his face, which you always assumed was inauthentic. “Ah, had a feeling it’d be you. My favourite customer~” Sebastian greeted, his hands clasped together as he gazed down at you with his triad of unsettlingly bright blue eyes, keeping that toothy smile on his face. It almost looked genuine. You ducked your head away and immediately went for the keycard, hobbling on your better leg and then ducking straight into the vents. Sebastian’s voice stopped you midway. “You aren’t even gonna buy anything? Seriously?” His voice lilted, confusion being the undertone to his words. “I’ve got a medkit right here. Buy it.” You hung your head ashamedly, sighing to yourself. “I… don’t have enough data,” You responded, embarrassed. “Really? You didn’t collect any research?” His voice echoed back flatly. “That’s stupid.” Yeah, it sure was. You pulled yourself back inside the shop, sitting against the wall with your head in your hands, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, I know.” You snapped back passive aggressively. “Fuck, I’d do anything for a medkit right now…”You muttered to yourself. You definitely wouldn’t be doing a run like this again. The room went silent for a moment. Honestly, you were just taking a breather, but it seems another metaphorical light bulb grew on his head. “Well. Let me cut you a deal then,” He started, the smile on his face growing even bigger. Your head perked up. A deal, huh? “Like what?” “A medkit… On the house.” The way he said it sounded enticing, but it’s not like you would decline something like that anyway.

You raised your eyebrow, willing to see this through. “In exchange for?” He bit his lip. “Sleeping with me.” “What?” You blurted out, sounding a little more repulsed than you’d like to have. Your eyes widened and you immediately looked up at him in the eyes. His smug ass smile unwavering, he locked eye contact with you, raising a non existent eyebrow. “I don’t think I stuttered.” He stated, giving you a look that made your face heat up and butterflies swarm inside your stomach. 

“Listen, you can’t imagine how pent up I’ve been, alone down here for the past decade. A man has his needs, you know, and you might be one to sate them.” Before you knew it, he was leaning down to your level, smirking expectantly. “Well? It’s just like any other transaction. I doubt you haven’t thought about it before~” He teased, bringing a claw to your face, swooping it behind your ear and down your cheek. You know what? He was right. You agreed embarrassingly fast. You definitely had a thing for the fish guy, and you were gonna stop denying it now. “O-Okay. Yeah. I mean, yes, to the deal, I mean. Sure.” You cursed at yourself internally for stuttering, probably making yourself sound stupid. He chuckled at your eagerness, making you avert your eyes bashfully.

“Good.” He retreated backwards, clearing his throat as you stood up carefully. You both stared at each other for a moment, as if unsure where to go from here, but you were broken from your trance when Sebastian started to unbuckle the clips around his tail and remove the SCRAMBLER from his back. He looked back at you when he noticed you were still staring.

“...Well? Are you gonna just stand there?” He deadpanned, before you gestured to your leg. “I still need a medkit.”

“Oh.” He looked back at your leg, as if he almost forgot you were bleeding out in his shop. He unclipped one from his tail and handed it to you, you giving him a delicate thanks in return. Grateful for the safety of the SCRAMBLER, you shimmied off your diving suit and gear until you were fully naked. You opened up the medkit, relieved that you were finally able to take care of your wounds.

By the time you were done bandaging yourself, Sebastian was stripped of his equipment, awkwardly looking around for a position he could settle himself into. After a few moments of watching him flop around for a bit, he found himself comfortable leaning back against the wall with his tail looping around to support him, a mess of thick curls on the floor.

You stood in front of him, analyzing his alien body. It was littered with scars all over, most from what you assumed were the experiments, a small amount being from the blacksite lockdown, probably. He had gills both on the sides of his torso and his neck, his body a mixture of beautiful shades and patterns of blue. The longer you stared, the more entranced you became. He was honestly so beautiful, more divine than any human you’d ever seen.

“Come here,” He coaxed with a smile, patting his ‘lap’ with his third arm. You obeyed, climbing onto him and straddling his lap with the rest of his tail able to support you. Looking at his genitals, you were a bit shocked by what you saw, but not in a bad way at all. 3 holes – the top one being the most prominent, an opening with something pink and glistening wet just slightly peeking out, the middle one seeming to just be a slit, and the bottom one as what you presumed was his asshole. Interesting anatomy. You did read about his document and him being mixed with specifically female anglerfish DNA, so that must’ve been in the mix with this.

Wordlessly, Sebastian chased a hand down to his crotch, slipping two digits into his top hole and wiggling something out. You watched in bewilderment as he fingered out 2 tentacle-like cocks from his hole.

“There,” He huffed, his cheeks dusted an odd shade of dark blue. “Now we can have some fun.”

He smiled smugly in response to viewing your wide-eyed shock, finding it utterly adorable. “Go on. Indulge, my pet.” He urged, reaching for one of his dicks and stroking it gently, watching for your next move. He shuddered as he touched himself, as if he’d been waiting for this kind of release for a long time, sensitive to the touch. You couldn’t imagine how long it’s been since he’d done anything sexual, let alone with a partner. You figured that might be why he invited (forced) you to spend this with him. Probably.

You swallowed nervously. Spitting on your hand, you decided to make do with what you had, which wasn’t much. Stroking yourself until you could deem yourself slicked up, ready to position yourself against… his slit, you think?

“So, do I, uhm.. Just… In here?-” You sheepishly asked, Sebastian groaning in response, narrowing his eyes. “Just put it in there already.” He growled, motioning his hand wrapped around his cock faster. You raised one of your hands in fake surrender, assuming he might just be really pent up.

Slowly, you slid yourself into his sopping hole, greeted by tepid, tight wetness. Sebastian held in a soft groan as you eased yourself in, staring down at your bodies hungrily. You never thought fish pussy would feel this good, but it did. And you never thought you’d say something like that to yourself, and never will again.

As soon as you bottomed out, you waited a moment to see if he was comfortable with you moving yet or not. Seeing as he didn’t protest, you patiently waited for him to relax. You gingerly stretched your arm out to rest on his chest for more support, feeling the surprisingly soft skin under your palms. It didn’t feel human at all, and that’s secretly what you liked about it. Sebastian noticed your hand, and didn’t say anything about it, quietly leaning his head back as he pleasured himself.

“Move.” He spoke after a short minute, making you obey. Slowly grinding yourself into him, you released quiet sounds of pleasure, resting your other hand on his hip for a better angle. Sebastian tried his best to keep himself as silent as possible, strained groans and soft pants being the only noises coming out of his mouth. You could tell he was holding back. And you didn’t particularly like it.

Attempting to tease a sound out of him, you reached for his untouched dick, closing a hand around it. Man, it was big. Maybe about half the length of your arm. Stroking it gently, experimenting with it, it felt slimy under your fingers, as what you assumed was pre coated itself on your fingers. It was slightly thicker than human pre, for sure. Sebastian’s reaction was slightly delayed, opening his eyes and seeing your hand wrapped around his cock. He shivered from the realization, his light bulb subtly dimming and brightening. Was he doing that the whole time? It was kinda cute.

You decided to speed it up, giving up on sitting awkwardly and instead planting your feet on the ground beside and between his looping tail for more leverage. From here you could properly slap your hips against his hole, despite how uncomfortable it might’ve been, but you were fine with it for now. Plowing yourself into him, you glanced up at Sebastian, focusing on his face for a minute. His cheeks were flush with blue, his lips pulled back in a tight grimace as he tried his best to keep in sound. His eyes were half-lidded, gazing down at where your crotches met.

Listening to the way he wheezed out a few pathetic grunts, you were sick of it and wanted more. You tugged on his dick harder, just in time with your thrusts, dragging them out before ramming back in. It worked. Sebastian threw his head back and moaned, and fuck, you loved it.

“Ngh- Fuck!” He yelled out, his arm reaching to grab onto a table next to you. You smirked to yourself triumphantly.

“Gonna stop being so quiet now?” You coaxed, returning to a slow pace. “Shut up.” He growled back, narrowing his eyes at you. You let go of his dick in response, hearing him softly whine at the absence of your hand.

“Seriously, start making some noise or I’m not gonna fuck you as good as I want to.” You gazed up at him, making eye contact as you watched him consider his words for a few seconds. He finally sighed, leaning back and trying to relax. “Fine.”

As you continued on, you noticed he was still getting comfortable with the prospect of making noise like this, but he was a bit louder for you this time. You eased back into a faster pace, slamming your hips against his hole as he moaned out for you.

“Fuck, that’s good… Keep going~” He breathed out, taking you by surprise, but sexually motivating you entirely. You worked faster for him, listening as he whimpered for you, slightly bucking up his body to meet your hips. Soon enough, he seemed to reach his climax, his bulb flickering for a few seconds as his mind went blank, mouth opening to release an inaudible scream. You pumped your hips harder as you raced to your own release, biting your lip as drool dribbled out from between your lips.

You were faced with the conscience of pulling out for just a second before strong hands grabbed your hips, preventing you from doing so anyway. Hot, white semen flooded into his hole, muffled noises coming from your mouth. You both laid there together, panting heavily as you recovered.

“Fuck… That was-” You huffed out, interrupted by Sebastian manoeuvring you onto your back with ease, putting you on the cold, hard floor. Your eyes widened, taken by surprise when he climbed on top of you, cum still pooling from his hole.

“I never said we were done.” He grumbled, a grin on his face as he mounted you, welcoming your cock back inside. You hissed, still coming down from your refractory period. “Wait, w-what the fu-” Interrupted again by the sensation of him grinding his body into you, a pleasant moan escaping him.

Well, you’d definitely be doing a run like this again.

[myfandomrealitea]

Wattpad's TOS are actually criminally hypocritical and ridiculous the more you read them. The website is literally just:

"Give us all your content for free to do with as we please and let us expose you to 493737573 website cookies and advertisements but also if you change the color of our logo we'll sue and if someone gets inaccurate medical advice from your fanfiction and sues we're also going to sue you for exposing us to risk."

Wattpad can mine your content but you can't mine Wattpad.

Wattpad can sue you for absolutely anything they perceive as "damaging" or "breach of terms" but the moment you make an account you release them of any and all claims, damages and responsibility.

If Anne Rice 2.0 does happen, Wattpad has so kindly declared that they reserve the right to be the sole defense, so they can throw you under the bus and then charge you for any and all fees incurred including legal and "related" costs. Oh, and you have to co-operate because, guess what? You agreed to!

In the instance you do wind up in a legal battle for your own content you're shit out of luck because Wattpad will have no part in it other than making sure its absolved of any responsibility and costs, and you're restricted to attending Court only in the Province of Ontario.

Like. How anyone still uses Wattpad is beyond me. Completely. It so obviously nothing more than a for-profit content theft facilitator. I feel like we've just moved so far beyond the need for Wattpad. Its so outdated even if you don't look at the TOS.

[rollercoasterwords]

like yeah obviously legality does not correlate to morality and i personally do not think ip laws should exist. however the reason i find it relevant to emphasize that selling fanfiction is illegal is not to make some moral stand about the sanctity of ip so much as to be like. hey this is the way it fucking is and if u break the law by selling fic u run the risk of creating larger legal troubles for entire communities of fic writers who just want to share their work for free. also more to the point the reason selling fic is so shitty is that it is a question of labor exploitation. i spent hundreds of hours creating something which you are now packaging and selling to make a profit without compensating me for my labor, which is not only exploitative but spits in the face of the spirit in which this fanfiction was shared—as a labor of love, meant to be free to anyone who wanted to read it. and the gag is that if u did want to fairly compensate me for my labor it would literally be thousands of dollars (assuming i’m charging even minimum wage for time spent writing & editing) which is why it isn’t fucking possible to sell fanfiction for a fair price!! all that on top of the fact that i (and many other fic writers) explicitly say “don’t sell or buy bound copies of my fic” just makes it flat-out undeniable that this is a fucking shitty thing to do, and i genuinely have no sympathy for people who go “wait what i’m not supposed to sell or buy fanfiction 🥺🥺🥺” like shut the fuck up i hate u

[bunnyzweig]

☆*:.｡.It’s fine, it’s cool.｡.:*☆

Art and Patrick both wonder how handjobs feel. Normal friend behaviour, right?

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

They’d both been out of it when it had happened.

That’s the story that Patrick told, at least.

They were drunk and young and stupid and that’s why they’d done it.

Just to see how it felt from someone else.

They’d been at a party that night— it changed depending on who he was speaking to.

Sometimes it was a fancy brand thing, other times it was just some college thing.

They’d collapsed onto the bed (was it a hotel? A dorm? He couldn’t remember) Art panting and gasping below him.

Maybe they had both been panting. He couldn’t remember.

They lay like that for a while, drunkenly rambling about whatever came to mind.

That was when Art spoke up.

“Have you…” he hiccuped, fiddling with Patrick’s curls, “…have you had a handjob before?”

Patrick almost laughed in his face right then and there. Hell, if it had been anyone else, he would’ve.

But Art was under him, his eyes shiny and wet and just so fucking earnest that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Nah. Why?” He grinned, his own hands smoothing over Art’s sandy blonde hair.

The boy’s cheeks flushed, his eyes darting to the side.

“I wanted to know how it feels. Y’know, when someone else does it.”

Patrick was taken aback briefly.

Sure, they’d masturbated together before, but once. When they were twelve.

And they hadn’t even touched each other. Guys did that all the time.

Right?

The next few minutes are fuzzy.

Desperate hands fumbling with buckles and boxers and then suddenly the warmth of skin.

They were touching eachother, and they couldn’t take it back.

Their hands wrapped around eachother’s lengths, moving in sync, just like always.

Art’s face scrunched up immediately—the sounds he let out were ones that Patrick could never forget.

“Dude, you moan like a girl,” he grunted in Art’s ear.

He got a huff in response.

Their lips met quickly, Art leaning into it as Patrick pulled back.

“Fuck you,” he whined, hips jerking up, another whine spilling from his lips.

Patrick just laughed again, squeezing Art’s dick, brushing his thumb over the tip like he knew what he was doing.

Maybe he did.

He couldn’t remember.

All he knew was that Art was doing something perfectly, and his pink lips looked so pretty. God, he wanted to just shove his—

His thoughts were cut off by that familiar euphoric feeling, huffing as he came all over Art’s hand.

Art followed soon after, still so preciously new to it all.

“Fuck!” He yelped, cum covering Patrick’s hand.

The pair stared at eachother for a moment.

A silent agreement.

Tomorrow morning they would forget it ever happened.

Tonight, however, they were perfectly content with falling asleep like that— dizzy and sweaty and closer than most friends would consider normal.

[petrichorium]

the merman is back.

it’s a little weird how used to him you’ve gotten. he’d only shown up for the first time a few months ago, but when you’re largely alone out on the boat or in your oceanfront lab there’s no shortage of ways for him to visit with nobody around.

he’s yet to tell you a name, but after the first few weeks of silence he suddenly revealed a passable understanding of english; when he speaks it's rudimentary, but he clearly understands everything you say, even if he doesn’t listen half the time.

you haven’t gotten the nerve to get in the water with him. in fact, you haven’t gotten in the water at all since he arrived, even when your colleagues are around and he’s notably not. he’s massive, his tail alone being well over two meters long and possessing the torso of a man who would tower over you on dry land (a handsome man, you're begrudged to admit, with those broad shoulders and blood red eyes and that ash blond hair that somehow looks good immediately coming out of the water). he’s assured you in his blunt, curt way that of course he doesn’t want to eat you but you still have anxieties about getting out into the open water you’ve always loved and being pulled under by a fucking sea monster.

he’s getting bolder, though. when you take the boat out today, he follows it, like the dolphins used to back when you operated out of the keys; that sleek black body would be terrifying just from the size, like seeing a fully grown orca bump up against the hull.

and when you weigh anchor, almost immediately, the boat keels aftward when he pulls himself onto the deck.

you shriek and he immediately pins you with a steely glare. he’s never done that before. it’s fucking terrifying, though he’s not managed to drag his whole body up and you’re a little comforted by that. it’s just his arms—two massive, heavily muscled things that are flexed and crossed in front of him, holding his head, shoulders, and much of his human-like torso up out of the water with ease. that enormous tail trails behind him and it’s still terrifying to see, your heart skipping a beat every time the shimmering orange markings catch your eye.

you don’t know what you’ll do if he decides to come all the way onto the boat. he wouldn’t be able to maneuver that well, but where the fuck would you go? into the damn water?

“fucking christ!” you yelp. “don’t just do that, motherfucker!”

“calm,” he snaps as he rolls his eyes.

the urge to flip him the bird is overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand, and you’re too frazzled to explain what go fuck yourself means. instead, you turn back around to clean up the cabin that he’s managed to mess up.

“oi, human, come.”

you huff, shouting your name at him and pointedly refusing to turn away from your task. he’s clearly annoyed at that, and you belatedly realize that perhaps if you’re really that terrified of him coming onto the boat you shouldn’t provoke him. luckily, rather than heaving himself up, he jerks the entire hull.

it’s a smooth motion for him, gripping the stern and rolling his tail so that the boat moves with him. it’s like being out in a storm, and though you’re well aware that it’s just your needy visitor, your sea-hardened stomach still lurches at the familiar feeling.

you stumble out of the cabin, careful not to be thrown over the edge. “i’m out! holy shit, i have a damn job you know, i can’t spend all my time catering to your whims.”

he stops as soon as you get back on deck. “calm,” he tells you again, and you're really starting to hate the word, “too loud.”

“who’s fucking fault is that? don’t rock my damn ship.”

“sit,” he demands rather than apologizing.

there are a plethora of reasons not to. you won’t be able to get away quickly if you need to, you shouldn’t be encouraging his demands by obliging immediately, you really do have a job to do instead of… whatever this is—instead of listening to any one of those reasons, you ease yourself down with your legs crossed a little ways away from where he’s holding himself.

he snarls, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. “closer.”

“no,” you snap. “not if you’re threatening me.”

his mouth shuts immediately, brow furrowed and lips pouting in an expression that’s less pleading or apologetic and more contemplative.

“not a threat,” he seems to settle on saying.

you roll your own eyes. “yeah. okay.”

“come here.”

“why?”

“wanna feel you.”

that throws you for a loop. what could he mean by that? you realize that perhaps he’s as fascinated by you as you are by him.

you’ve caught him staring at your body in the past. he’s never reacted like you’d expect—if you’d caught a human looking at you like that and then turning away when you caught his eye, he’d have been checking you out. but when it’s an apex predator of a different species, there’s an entirely different context, one you’re even less enthused about.

you’re standing before you’ve fully thought it through, fully freaked and ready for him to go. you barely get to uncross your legs, however, before he lunges.

it’s far faster than your not-normally-hunted-because-you’re-a-modern-person mind can follow. a cold, clawed hand snaps out to latch around your ankle and yanks you downward, slamming your back into the boat’s coarse deck and then dragging you towards the edge. there’s not even time for you to shriek.

this is it, you think. he’s going to eat you now; he’ll drag you under and rip you apart, or maybe he’ll drown you first as a mercy. you hope he doesn’t want to play with you further, drag you into the water and let go to make you swim because he wants a chase.

the moment your ankle hits the water he stops.

you’re breathing heavily, free leg still braced on the deck, arms finding purchase on a pole nearby. his whole body is underwater aside from his eyes and the very top of his head, but you can still see that massive dark shadow—only little flashes of that pretty orange-gold patterning visible as his scales glint beneath the sun—and it sends a thrill through you. he’s so ungodly enormous.

that hand is still around your ankle, but it’s looser now. his mouth is beneath the waves so he doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft and almost regretful as he regards you.

“okay…” you move slowly, getting to a better position. it pulls your captive ankle from the water and the movement causes his grip to tighten as if he’s reluctant to remove it—he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t let you go. you’re forced to sit on the edge of the deck with your feet dangling over the side.

“let me feel you,” he tries again, as if he’s giving you a choice.

“ask,” you decide upon demanding. his words have made you realize, with a burst of shame and a promise to never tell anyone in the future, that you’re not entirely opposed to the strange rude merman feeling you.

you’re gifted a growl, not unlike the snarl from before but lacking the teeth. he’s learning, you realize, not only in not baring those terrifying weapons at you but also in removing his hand from your ankle.

“can i… touch you,” he spits out, like the words and your request are insulting.

and again you think there are far too many reasons to give in just like that. you’ve been around enough children to know that rewarding problematic behavior is hardly the way forward, but there’s a certain part of your brain that’s in control right now and it’s not particularly interested in breaking him of his demanding attitude (quite the contrary, to your chagrin, this very annoying part of your brain is enjoying it).

“are you sure you’re not going to eat me?”

“no eating.” he huffs, wrinkling his nose.

“what, i smell bad or something.”

he regards you, approaching a little closer, and you resist the urge to pull your legs up to hold your knees to your chest.

“smell good,” he says, “not like food.”

all right.

“fine, then. if you’re not going to take a bite out of my calf, then… sure. feel me, i guess.”

he’s just as fast as before, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence before he’s lashing out and grabbing your leg again. this time, he’s not looking at your face; he’s focused entirely on your feet, those big hands inspecting them thoroughly.

it’s rough, and you’re a little glad because if he’d been gentle it would have likely been too ticklish. he’s still careful with his massive claws; you’re sure they’re sharp enough to pierce your skin with ease, and he’s clearly skilled enough to avoid it. you’re more than thankful, because you’ve seen how he hunts with them (he’s dropped disemboweled fish in front of you before as strange gifts) and you don’t want your legs to end up like his prey even if he doesn’t eat you.

he moves on from your feet, both hands latching onto one calf and almost massaging it in reverence. his face is even closer now; you really ought to be more worried by the proximity of those teeth to your skin, but the fascination on his face is so enthralling.

by the time he reaches the back of your knee, you're tensing. while before he’d been mostly in the water, he’s very nearly at your height now, holding himself up by his grip on you and an awkward hold on the deck with his spare hand.

and then he’s at your thigh, and your breath is heavy.

because he’s basically laid out on your lap, one arm wrapped entirely around your upper leg such that his large palm rests flush, fingers spread, against the plush flesh of your inner thigh. and he’s no less fascinated, expression no less sincere, as he pulls further up to get closer.

“warm,” he says, more to himself than you. he blinks, as if shaking away a daze, and his eyes jump up from your thighs to look at your stomach. “soft…”

his head drops. you jump, caught up in the strange haze he's brought with him but snapping out of it as he lays his head on your lap. your heart thumps erratically, your breath long bated. he’s not looking at your thigh anymore, and not your face either—he’s locked on your stomach, your loose t-shirt having ridden up slightly to reveal more bare skin.

you ought to see it coming, really, but when that big, cold hand moves from your thigh to your torso, sliding smoothly beneath your shirt and running up your bare stomach, you yelp and jolt back.

he startles, and then he’s gone, slipping back off you and disappearing down into the murky water. you’re left panting, with nothing but a very wet body and the ghost of his touch on your legs…

and the heat of your face at the knowledge that, while you’d been surprised, you kind of wanted him to go further.

[princessfbi]

As we begin the month of October and many of the prompt fest such as Inktober, Kinktober, Whumptober, Flufftober, Podfic Fest, and all the others that will bring new content, a friendly hint:

Do. Not. Do. This.

Reposting artwork, fic, podfics, whatever without permission or credit is stealing. It’s also just a shitty thing to do at all times but especially right now in today’s climate with AI. I know it’s sad to lose content you get comfort from but this is not the answer. All it’s going to do is drive creators away.

We share our creations with love. Please don’t be an entitled asshole in return.

[pinnedmother]

Caring for The Impaler (3 short stories)

Showing our love for the snakey man through acts of service! 🐍ɞ

2/3: Helping him bathe

Messmer has been gone for quite some time. You were occupied enough not to worry about him too much, yet worry you did. When he and his troops finally returned you found out that there was a battle, a rough one at that. Surprising to nobody the formidable Impaler came victorious.

Once you see him, bloodied, covered in ash and soot, you can only imagine how terrifying this man looked in the eyes of the enemy. He sighs with clear exhaustion, listening to a report from one of the Fire Knights. Then his gaze finally settles upon you. He perks up ever so slightly, his mood ameliorated. Disregarding the knight with a move of his hand, Messmer comes straight for you.

You know that look when you see it: he wants to take you into an embrace. “No.” You protest firmly, taking a step back and putting your arm forth to stop him if his messy self comes too close. He halts, a mixture of sadness and confusion flashes on his face. Thankfully, the realization comes to him quickly after. Messmer regards himself up and down before looking at something much more pleasant once again – you.

“O, cherished heart of mine. How hast thou fared in mine absence?”

You engage in a conversation about pleasant nothings. Although you are curious, you avoid inquiring about the battle, seeing that right now he wishes for a distraction from all that gore and brutality. You try to be that distraction for him, his source of comfort.

Still, you entwine in the dialogue a subtle suggestion to clean himself of the war’s muck, volunteering to help. After a brief hesitation, he agrees.

“Come” you say, leading him to the bathing chambers. A large pool of water awaits you there – large enough to fit a demigod and then some.

Messmer removes his armor and clothing piece by piece. The hardest part, as usual, is to take off the vest. The serpents maneuver smoothly with practiced moves, trying their best to ease the process. In the meantime, you wear a linen apron and gather the cleaning supplies: a pile of neatly folded rags, two bars of mushroom soap and a bottle of scented oil.

When you come back, Messmer is already soaking in the bath, most of his body covered by the ever-growing stain of dirt on the water’s surface as its layers come off his ashy skin. The water, cold just a minute ago, is now steaming.

“Ah. I wouldst entreat thee to join me, but...”

“Gladly. Later.” You respond, soliciting a tired chuckle out of him.

You push one of the rags in the water, letting the fabric properly soak for a few moments. Then pull it out, wring just a bit for excess liquid, and bring it closer to Messmer’s shoulder. He moves his head to the side allowing you a better access, strands of his hair lazily copy his movement floating on the murky surface.

You start rubbing, putting just enough force to scrub the mud off him while keeping it gentle and unintrusive. Once his skin is thoroughly wet and rid of most of the grime, you go in with the soap. Its herbaceous fragrance fills the air, replacing the steely, burning smell Messmer carried with him out of the fight.

When you take his hand into yours to keep it up, he wraps his fingers around it, lovingly caressing your skin with his thumb. You’re gliding the bar over his long arm until it’s white with foam, then rub once more with a new rag. Rinse and repeat.

As you clean his back, you reach for a scar surrounding one of the serpents’ exit. You realize too late that the skin there is thin and sensitive. Messmer makes a sharp inhale when you brush it with a rough fabric. You still for a moment, waiting for him to say something: to ask you to stop or leave. Yet he remains silent. You continue. Much gentler now. You make just a tiny amount of contact, brushing with slow and careful rubs. He shivers a little whenever you get a longer swipe, but you watch for his reactions trying not to cause too much discomfort.

Messmer’s body is fully cleansed, his pale grey skin now an even tone, glistening beautifully in the light of the candles. He’s out of the water, letting himself naturally dry out as he sits on the age of the pool. One more touch is in order though.

You lean behind him and apply a couple droplets of oil to your hands, rubbing them together before sliding your palms from his shoulders to the collarbones and downward, massaging the wooden, musky aroma into his skin. He softly hums and pulls his head back in bliss, resting it on your chest. You don’t mind his wet hair. He looks serene like this, about to fall asleep. You slow your movements in tact with his breathing.

The oil rubs off your hands quickly, absorbing into his skin. When you’re done, you simply continue to hold the man, almost certain he’s slumbering. Even his serpents are dormant, resting their heads on the heated stone floor. Messmer seemed so tired, it would be cruel to wake him now, you think. He surprises you with a low murmur:

“Go, mine dearest. Rest thy weary form. As shall I”. You nod and obediently remove your arms from him. He catches your hand with his own however, keeping you closer just a moment longer.

He brushes the side of your face with the back of his forefinger as he coos: “Then,” he adds, “later,” Messmer emphasizes, reminding you of your own words, an enigmatic smile on his face, “mine hour with thee cometh”.

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

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happy reading!