#SORRY FOR MY AO3 NAME

[pantstresbienn]

First chapter is finally up and I hope you all enjoy this! I'm not used to writing, but I'm pretty happy with how this is going so far. It's more of a set-up chapter, and I held myself back a bit as I want to hit on some things in later chapters. I even already have some of Chapter 2 done, too! (Which is a lot of Sabo and Law interactions!)

I'll be at least updating this bi-weekly, ratings and tags may change and be added. Feel free to let me know what you think about it q-q

[pachimation]

the past vs the present vs hat guy

[perryelornitorrinco]

I did some fanart for @poposusz’s fic Frozen free fall (these happen in chapter 1 and 3) hehehe, GO READ IT! THE ANGST IS SO AAAAAUUUUGGGHHHH you always do it so well Popo >:·3!!!!!!

Loved the first chapter with them goofing around with their long pants for Legend and their winter clothes XD!!!! It's impossible to stuff all of Hyrule's hair in a hat 💀

And also check all of her other fics, it's a gold mine of Legend angst >:D💖!

[thief-of-eggs]

Oh wow! The commenter from earlier escalated! Folks- here is a perfect example of what NOT to comment on AO3 works :))

[lost-the-narrative]

wowza

glad i have your attention ig :)

for context, here's the original post i made

sorry about not following up on this for like 3 days lmao, got very much sidetracked by life.

here's more of my silly little gravty falls AU

~~~

So I've always been a big fan of the idea that Stan isn't dumb, he just doesn't learn the same way as Ford does. But nobody ever cared enough to try and accommodate for that difference, so he was just labelled as inferior. Add that to the fact that Stan just doesn't really try if he's not interested in something, and you get the idea.

And of course Stan had to get the Stanleymobile from somewhere, right?

So here's my AU:

Stan and Ford are out and about—they're around 15 years old, in their sophomore year of high school—and they walk past this small mechanic/car repair shop. Stan had never seen it before so he gets curious and wanders off, and Ford doesn't notice because the fucking nerd brought a textbook with him.

He walks up to the main garage of the shop, and sees a car in the corner of the shop, and it's beat up and broken down to hell and back. He notices how absolutely shit it looks, but something in the back of his mind sees the potential in it. So he goes up to the shop's mechanic and asks about the car.

The mechanic basically tells him that the thing is a lost cause, and it's been sitting there for around a decade. And Stan, like a dumbass, takes that as a challenge. So he tells the mechanic that if he can get that car running, then he gets to keep it. And the mechanic is honestly impressed by the sheer balls of this random kid to propose such a thing with such confidence, so he takes Stan up on his deal.

So now Stan is going to that little shop on a daily basis. He's fixing up the Stanleymobile, and the mechanic is teaching him everything he needs to know about cars and mechanics and engineering, and Stan is actually getting it. And he's helping out as much as he can aside from working on the Stanleymobile, by helping fix up other clients' cars and cleaning up around the place.

Eventually, the mechanic gives Stanley a part-time job there, getting paid. But after all this, he never tells his family, because he honestly enjoys what he's doing, and some selfish part of him wants to keep it for himself. But he also doesn't want to seem like an asshole, so he starts secretly using his money and mechanical expertise to start helping around the house.

And slowly, his family and his teachers start noticing. Because things are randomly getting fixed and Stan is improving in school. None of them say anything though, because they don't exactly know why it's happening, but they're certainly not complaining.

Ford, however, is the one to take most notice. He starts realizing how Stan is always going off to do his own thing without him. How Stan is somehow improving in school on his own (Stan sometimes brings his homework with him to the shop and the mechanic explains it to him in a way he understands). The way that Stan isn't clinging to him as much anymore, or pestering him about the Stan O' War as much.

At first, Ford wants to be happy about this, because he's getting his own space to be a person outside of Stan's twin. But then he starts getting really distressed about it, because Stan is actually behaving really weird and not like Stan. So he ends up confronting Stan after a few weeks. Eventually though, Ford gives up, because as long as Stan is happy, then he's happy, and besides it'll all go back to normal soon. A year and a half later though, and now Ford is the one clinging to Stan, and Stan honestly doesn't mind but he is a bit confused.

So this goes on for two years, and right before Stan's 17th birthday, the summer before his senior year, he manages to get the Stanleymobile running. And the mechanic immediately tells Stan how proud he is of him, and Stan starts tearing up on the spot.

Fast forward to his second semester of senior year, and the science fair and West Coast Tech thingy still happens. And Stan is still pretty upset that Ford is gonna be going off to some fancy college without him, because despite his academic improvements, he still doesn't believe that he's good enough for that kinda stuff. So he still goes into the gym and yells at Ford's project, and he punches the table and the screw falls out. But this time as he goes to fix it he notices that something's… off about it. The body of the machine looks weird and its movements are kind of janky and oh Moses he needs to tell Ford about this!

So he rushes home, gets Ford, and drags him to the gym to show him the project. Ford initially doesn't see anything wrong with it, and suspects that Stan might be pranking him. Stan, though, emphasizes his point by starting to explain it, but using a lot of mechanical terms. And Ford is honestly just confused on how Stan knows any of this. 

Ford trusts Stan though, so he and Stan start taking the project apart right there on the floor of the school gym to figure out what went wrong. And Stan is just explaining what parts are wrong, what's missing, and woah Ford that is a really shoddy wiring job. Ford, meanwhile, just stares at Stan like he's suddenly turned into a completely different person, and Stan has to explain that no, I'm not a clone, I just like cars. This thing here is basically just a weird sorta car.

It's the shittiest explanation ever, but Ford takes it in stride, and they start fixing and rebuilding the perpetual motion machine. However, it ends up taking them all night, and before they know it there's other students and teachers flooding into the gym, and the college people are there, but they still keep working on the project. There's even a teacher that sees them, and sees the broken project and assumes that Stan broke the project so the teacher comes and starts berating Stan and they have to explain that they're working on it together, while continuing to fix it.

And then suddenly the college people are there, and they're asking if there's an actual project to see. And the Stan twins are like "no, BUT—" and they start explaining the machine together, with Ford going into the theoretical mathy stuff, and Stan filling in the blanks for the actual mechanics.

And the college people are listening and they let it slide, because the math is near-flawless and the mechanical portions are incredibly thorough. And then not even a week later, BOTH of the Stan twins are getting letters from West Coast Tech, saying that they BOTH got scholarships into the school, with Stan getting into their engineering program, and Ford getting into their theoretical research program. And they're both super excited, because they can both do what they like and they won't have to be separated.

And the Wonder Twins go to West Coast Tech together!

[nobodysdaydreams]

Me: *Knows that Y/N means “your name” and is supposed to be a substitute placeholder for the reader’s name because it’s been explained to me so often*

Me: *Sees another tumblr post with Y/N in it*

Me: “Ah yes. The infamous multi fandom character “Yes/No” is at it again.”

[naffeclipse]

Temperate Tail

Tigertaur!Eclipse x Reader. Sickness. Non-consensual touching. Kidnapping.

Prev

You moan quietly at the arms underneath you, lifting you away from the cool cave floor. Blearily, you peek between heavy eyelids to watch the deeper shadow of stone break away to red evening, burning into a black-blue twilight on the horizon. The leafy foliage flutters with a warm breeze. You shudder underneath it as the arms that hold you squeeze you a little too tightly. The motion of being carried away is not as smooth as the nagas ought to be.

Sun and Moon went to hunt for themselves. You thought they had only awakened you a moment ago, gently fed you another sensitive plant, and told you their plans.

They worried, whispered, but you had shooed them away. They can only hunt together in the dusk or dawn, and you’re well aware that they’ve kept from satisfying their stomachs to watch over you in your sickness. You can survive a little while on your own—all you do is sleep.

And the nagas are not the only dangerous creatures in the jungle.

“Back already?” your hoarse voice crackles under the ill strain to speak. You allow your head to loll against the firm arm cradling you. 

You desperately long for the flower to kick in soon and spare you the furious whiplash effect of fevers one moment then chills the next. Sun and Moon have been diligent in tending to you; a fact you still have to stomach. Under their constant care, you’re useless, at their ever gentle mercy.

This body pressing you close is not the warmth of a sun-heated patch of grass nor the cool shadows stretching underneath a misty tree. It’s even, neutral, calm. The being is steady in a way that betrays the skilled strength hiding under short fur of orange and deep red. An unagitated killer, carrying away his prize prey.

Your eyelids fly open.

“Eclipse,” you half growl, half groan.

A large hand, tipped in compacted but curved claws, slaps over your mouth. Your weak protest is muffled under his near smothering palm. Deep red eyes flash in warning. His gait is swift and seamless, not the swaying motion you register with Sun or Moon. The beast holding you flies over the forest floor upon four tiger legs, his upper half bearing the resemblance of a man in form. The silent pads of his paws let him ghost through the forest, you caught in his muscular embrace.

His focus remains on the forest as it deepens with shadows and reddens with the last slips of sunrise. You boil internally, not only because of your sickness, but at how long he must have been lying in wait, watching, willing Sun and Moon to leave you for but a moment. The fiend.

Eclipse is the only beast who stands a chance against Sun and Moon, save for one other in this mad jungle.

You try to bite his hand but only succeed in scraping your teeth against his palm and getting hair in your mouth. His round ears flicker. Turning his head, he watches for a moment, still bounding between thick, mossy trees before resume his cunning getaway.

You want to snarl at him, threaten him, demand he puts you down now. His hand gags your every attempt to throw threats. Furious and festering in your feverish state, you struggle to find a way out of his arms. His claws press against your cheek, almost squishing the flesh against your molars. The promise of bruises hangs over his fingertips.

His own threat flares in his round, black pupils—so unlike the slitted gaze of Sun and Moon.

You glare at his orange, light yellow, and dark red mane-like growth of fur around his head, flaring around him like sun rays. He’s always made you think of a dark sunset, eclipsing a land of light. Upon his face, he’s marked by an orange and deep red jagged crescent, and around his deep red eyes are vertical white stripes that cut from the corner of his gaze.

Through the quiet buzz of the jungle, you fight his vice-like hold and your own fading strength while he carries you from the lush and verdant part of the jungle to tall grass, wild and whipping in the summer breeze, to thickets speckled with rocky crevices. 

Eclipse’s territory. The pulse in your throat quickens. You try to kick but weakness sets upon your sickly form.

He stops in the center of the verdant field. His large head tilts down to gaze at you. The appetitive glint in his wine dark eyes fills you with acidic apprehension. He nimbly folds upon his tiger legs, sitting not unlike a cat pleased with the mouse he’s brought back. His large palm lifts away from your mouth—there’s no worry that Sun and Moon will hear you now. He lays you down on the thick grass. The emerald green colors darken just as the sun slips away, leaving a purple twilight against the sky. The lush vegetation brushes against you like strands of hair. You shudder.

“Take me back, right now,” you demand is overwhelmed by your croaking. That is not the fierceness with which you want to address Eclipse.

His wide grin upon his large head splits to reveal curved canines. He licks his teeth once. You force yourself to not flinch, though holding your head off of the ground is beginning to take its toll on your limited energy.

“No. You’re staying here, with me, until I say so.” He bows over you. Large tiger paws dig slightly into the moist dirt as his hands arch for you. “As if those two snakes were taking care of you. You still have a fever.”

You glare. He has too many limbs, too many claws to watch for. Though you fade under the aching pulse eradicating your body, you refuse to close your eyes for even a moment.

“I don’t need your help.” Before his hand takes a hold of you, you twist onto your belly. Shoving your knees up and working your elbows, you begin to crawl away—as slow and pitiful as you are, you refuse to stay here a moment more. You push with strength you do not have. Glass blades swipe against your arms. The almost muddy ground soaks into the fabric of your long khakis. 

A large hand seizes your ankle. With a rattling breath sucked out of your lungs, you’re dragged back over the grass and flipped upright. Before you can curse him, Eclipse tucks you under his white hirsute belly of his lower tiger half, two massive paws pinning your arms by your sides. His weight holds you down like a striped blanket. 

You groan sickly. Throwing him a half-lidded stare of disdain, you can only watch as Eclipse lays down on top of you, his arms crossed over your midsection as you struggle to breathe under his weight. He tilts his head, his mane-like fur too short to take after a lion, but the tufts are spikey and vibrate with orange, light yellow, and deep red hues.

“You won’t get any better crawling around in the mud,” he drips with derision. “Why are you so difficult?”

Clutching your hands into fists, you bare your teeth as if you had as sharp of fangs as him. He laughs. The harsh, sharp sound makes you vibrate within your ridiculously chilled body. If you weren’t sick—if you had your machete—

“Get off me,” you rasp. 

“Relax, kitten,” he purrs, lifting a hand to trail a black claw over your arm, tracing from the crease of your elbow to the curve of your shoulder. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” 

He does not feed you, and you very much want to bite.

You shiver. Goosebumps prickle your skin under the lethal brush of the tiger’s hand. Your breath catches when his touch nears your neck. Your fever spikes. Caressing your throat, Eclipse’s claws linger on your jugular vein. The very beat of your heart pushes back on his presence. You will your frantic pulse to not give away the violent fear flooding your veins, too weak to throw him off you and run.

His deep red eyes flash with a predatory smugness. You squirm. In what you can only understand as delight, he shifts his hand to firmly press on your shoulder, restricting your movement further.

A moan slips past your teeth.

“I will make you feel better,” his throaty growl fills your body. You freeze, eyes wide like a gazelle. 

“Eclipse,” you try to argue, but you cough.

Softly, so softly you almost don’t understand what’s happening, Eclipse begins to purr. You feel it within his tiger half as well as his chest. Fully laid out underneath him, deep rumblings fill you like the echoes of thunder. A strangely gentle vibrancy soothes the edge of the fever. You gasp quietly at how sweet the relief is—how swift and consuming it is of the ache that’s been plaguing you for a day and night now.

“What are you doing?” you ask, harsh in your allayed confusion.

“Giving you what you need: me.” His wicked maw splits into a wide smile. “Don’t deny you feel better. I can already see it in your face.”

“No,” you groan, but it’s not your best lie.

He laughs softer this time, condescending but adoring, as if he can’t get enough of your antics.

Internally, you writhe. The aching soreness, the flip-flopping of shuddering from chills and melting from the fever is washed away like mud from a stone, but you wonder if that could be due to the flower you consumed earlier. His purring… it is enticing, seductive in how it urges you to stop resisting. You hate that a sliver of you wants it. You loathe that you want him to keep taking away the sickness.

You’re useless. Eclipse has stalked you time and time ago, and pounced just when you were foolish enough to believe you were safe. Now, you don’t even have a weapon to brandish against him. He’s too swift and cunning—he always has you before you realize what’s happening. 

A perfect ambush predator.

He keeps telling you that you need him. You have never revolted against such a bold declaration more than this. His bone-snapping strength and his sound-breaking speed are intimidating, certainly, but you won’t let him play with you. 

He acts hungry, he keeps looking at you as if you were a sweet morsel, and you refuse to believe that he is anything but a monster yearning for flesh after he’s finished playing with his food.

Depleted of adrenaline and reserved energy, you can do nothing but soak in his healing rumbles.

Eclipse’s body lays lightly over your own. You carry vague suspicions that he’s not resting his full weight on you—crushing you to death is not his means of slaughter. He has far too many claws and a pair of powerful jaws for that. Instead, stomach to stomach, he longues over you as if soaking in the starry light. This close to your chest, you wonder how well he senses your angry heart.

Insects buzz through the grass. You have an urge to shiver in the lack of safety in the night, but Eclipse’s purring keeps you from feeling too aware of your surroundings. In the darkness, his orange and deep red hues have melted to a muted color. The length of his tail playfully flickers behind him, long and tipped in black. He is too cat-like, too large, to be trustworthy.

“Relax, sweet little kitten,” he croons in a low voice, “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

You glower in the dark. His predator eyes can see your expression perfectly, but he only sneers in reply.

As if sweeping aside your ungrateful attitude, Eclipse plays with wisps of your hair, twirling the strands around his claws with a casual intrigue. He never tugs on the strands. You do little but breathe. His purrs are alleviating the worst and you need every ounce of strength you can steal to get away from him. The gleam of his deep red eyes become black in the crescent of moonlight.

He leans down. You turn your head away but that does little to stall his nuzzling. He rubs affectionately against your nose, your neck, even your hair, and you protest with loud grumblings. You squeeze your eyes shut at the stroke of his sleek fur—something so dangerous shouldn’t be so soft. A whimper escapes you, and you bite the inside of your cheek to hold back the next one. His purr picks up. He effortlessly ignores your half growled cursing while fussing his fuzzy short mane against your cheek.

When will he have his fill? Is he ever going to be satisfied bating you around like a delicious little mouse? Your heart skips a beat.

“Why are you doing this?” you grunt.

“You smell like those awful snakes,” he growls lightly. He pulls back in the slightest so you can catch the sizzling pleasure in his gaze. “You have no idea how much better you smell with me all over you.”

“I don’t smell like anyone but me,” you hiss. But you’re not sure. Have Sun and Moon left their scent on you? The thought hadn’t crossed your mind seriously until now.

Eclipse tilts his head slightly. The wild fluff of his head speaks to his jungle prowess. Hanging only an itch above your mouth, he muses in tune with his purring. 

“You do smell lovely.” He traces a tapered finger from your temple to the edge of your jaw, as if sizing up a morsel. “Like dried petals with a slight spice.”

A shudder takes over your shoulders. He hooks your chin in his grasp then deliberately rubs his fluffy cheek against your mouth. A thick sultry ting of amber and dark earth fills your senses, ending with a lingering, spicy musk.

You sputter, tasting hair. He snickers with a simper when he lifts his head.

The strong scent reminds you of when he first surprised you. He pinned you to the ground before you realized you were being hunted. A mistake you refuse to make again. There was no doubt in your mind that he was going to tear your throat out, but he purred and fawned over you, and dragged you off to a rocky crevice to find out more about you. You were terrified then—but you at least had your machete on you.

The shiver that rolls down your body is not for his pleasure, despite his smirk. You’re going to find a way to wring his neck.

“Stop it,” you snap, your voice thick and labored.

“I am good for you. You can’t deny that,” he leans in closer. He lays his head beside your own, covering your chest. You swallow at the graze of his teeth against your soft neck. 

His voice lowers, “You like to think you have claws, but you don’t. You need me. You need to trust me.”

You screw your eyes shut.

No. You can’t. You can only rely on yourself. Sun and Moon are sweet, they practically begged to help you, but you can’t accept that, not truly. You won’t let them have your back just to get a fang or claw in it.

It hurts. You remember.

When push comes to shove, you can only hope you’re out of reach of everything and everyone.

“Kitten,” he purrs, turning your chin with a sharp finger. “You’re safe with me.”

You stare back at him, eyes narrowed with disbelief. The rhythmic swells of his purrings have yet to wane. The delicious relief holds you down still. He envelopes you like a waterfall, crashing down, drowning you where you stand.

A sliver of you wants to trust him, and that part of you is very, very wrong and weak.

His one round ear twitches, and then both lie flat against his skull The summer breeze ceases. Unease pricks your spine. His expression sharpens as he rises, hands pressed into the grass on either side of your head, claws extended.

The deep purr within his body cuts off. For a fraction of the night, he holds your gaze with a promise.

I will steal you away again soon.

His jaw splits open in a snarl that quakes the meadow. Your heart climbs up your throat, rattling under his force. The next second, Eclipse leaps off of you. You gasp at the sudden loss of the tiger’s presence. A flash of midnight blue scales darts through the grass. 

Moon.

The naga strikes in the blink of an eye. Moon’s fangs snap inches from Eclipse’s neck, vicious spit dripping from his sharp incisors. The flare of his hood makes him larger, and horrifying, and the glinting red and yellow diamonds flaring underneath his intimidating display promise lethal retribution. The tigertaur dives deeper into the field, effortlessly lunging out of reach from a furious swipe of Moon’s claws. Eclipse grins; there is nothing humorous in his glinting jaws.

The meadow rustles to the side of you. A sweeping mass of golden scales circle you, crushing grass and smothering vegetation. Hands take your shoulders. A low hiss fills the air with a threatening rage but soon softens. You look up, stunned. 

Sun, too.

The naga instantly grabs you and holds you against his warm chest. You lock your arms around his spindly neck, minding his sharp head spikes. His blue eyes are dark as if ink were spilled into his irises. His arms tremble for one moment before steadying around you. In the emptiness of Eclipse’s purrs, your entire body shivers and the fever returns in thick, heavy waves.

You twist your head back, fighting the ache dripping back into your limbs. Moon is coiled upon his tail, tall, taller than you’ve ever seen him hold himself up. He watches the meadow with a fervent rage. His red eyes are wide, glinting dark like arterial blood.

Sun says Moon’s name. In a snap, Moon is slithering to your side, his hand brushing the small of your back with a reassuring—or in need of reassuring—touch. You try to say their names. Sun tucks your head against his shoulder.

The moment they turn away, you see Eclipse in the tall grass, not yet gone. He’s crouched, half-hidden. He grins like the Cheshire Cat between wavering blades of green. His fingers dance in a goodbye. Your heart drops into your stomach.

Sun and Moon shoot away—a fight avoided is the only good fight. Cutting through the grass, rustling through it with thunderous hissing, they spirit you out of Eclipse’s territory. You cling tighter to Sun and watch Moon’s and his long tails become whipping blurs, scales glinting with shards of starlight.

“You came?” you gasp. You try to not choke Sun with your crushing grip.

“Are you hurt?” Moon hisses.

“No.” You shake your head. “Eclipse was watching the cave.”

“We put that together,” Sun gives without his usual musical timber. “Did he do anything to you?”

“No.”

He nods, relieved, but it’s short-lived as a dark cloud passes over his usually sunny expression. “You scared us, lily pad. That’s the second time I’ve found you gone.”

“We should have stayed,” Moon says, his snarl lowering into remorse.

You let your head fall against Sun’s shoulder, bouncing along with his swaying. Moon’s concern rings in your head like a bell. 

They came for you. They didn’t let you go. You close your eyes even as liquid spills underneath your eyelashes.

They take you far away from the tall grass, and they don’t stop until you’re well into the densest, darkest shadows of the jungle. You cling to the quiet sound of the nagas’ hissing.

You still feel Eclipse’s purr deep within your chest.

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Stretched Pt 2//Rolan x Cleric PWP

(If you haven't read it already, Part 1 is here!)

ft anal fingering, BG3 medical kink and mild dubcon. 1373 words.

The leaves tingle against the cleric’s fingers as she chops them; Lantan-herb, ground up with kraken oil and raik scales to stimulate healing. Tightening.

Rolan has already seated himself, and though his trousers are not re-fastened he has pulled them back up, robes re-arranged to hide the cock twitching beneath them. ‘Back on all fours please,’ she tells him, and waits until he is facing away from her to smile a little in amusement. Such a proper man. Demure, even, though he’d no doubt protest that word. Someone of his stature in the world probably attributes his fear of pleasure and nudity to be mere reserve; good manners; a wish not to be distracted by such base concerns and vulgar pleasures. And yet, all the while he yearns for them, and is too afraid to enjoy what could be freely given. It makes her want to stroke the pert, tense cheeks before her, and kiss the underside of his obediently raised tail— but she confines herself to a slow, tender circling of the pleasure within him, applying the salve to first his walls and then the ring of his entrance. Her strokes take slight liberties, but they stay the professional side of lingering, despite Rolan’s whimpers. When she’s finished, she cleans him up gently again, and tells him he may once more dress. ‘I have prepared enough of this for four weeks. Apply it every day. Inside yourself, too, for the first week, but no more than a finger, and after the first week only your entrance.’ Rolan flushes, and then catches his breath. ‘Ah.’

The cleric raises her eyebrows. ‘You’ll probably feel the effects of the salve for an hour or so after application. Clenching will probably make it more noticeable.’ Another caught breath, another whimper. She allows herself a slight smirk, before she buries her head in her appointment-book. ‘I will see you again in two weeks, to monitor your progress. And remember. No more stretching yourself.’ ‘Of course,’ he snaps, strangled. ‘What kind of fool do you take me for? I am not humiliating myself like this just to undo my own efforts.’ Only years of professionally-honed tact stops her from outright laughing; but she is certainly smiling inside far more wickedly than the polite curve that paints her assured lips. ‘Hmmm. In that case, I look forward to seeing your progress.’

She’s seen a case or two like this before; far less appealing patients in both cases. And if there is one thing she has learnt about it so far, it is that those who nurture this vice find it very hard to give up. They seek something that only being filled to the brim can give them; a sense of being whole perhaps. Of being owned. Which is all to say that when Rolan arrives for his second appointment, jaw set and tail once more lashing, she knows exactly what has happened. She gives him a few moments to acclimate, of course. ‘How are you?’ ‘Have you been applying the salve as I instructed?’ ‘Have you noticed any adverse effects?’ Fine, yes, no— ‘What about the tingling?’ ‘Hardly pleasant, but I am capable of ignoring it.’ ‘Ah,’ she says. ‘In that case, since you’ve been following my instructions so closely, we might find some improvement already.’ Rolan swallows. ‘You… want to examine me again?’

‘Yes. If you could remove your trousers and assume the position—' Last time, he merely pulled his trousers low on his thighs, but now he follows her instruction to the letter, boots and socks cast aside. Compensating, perhaps, for having not followed other instructions. She muses to herself as she slicks her fingers for the examination, debating whether she prefers him half-naked like this, or in last appointment’s state of rushed, ashamed undress. She decides she’d most like to see him with his trousers around his ankles. Humiliatingly exposed, and ready for the taking. Not that it matters at present.

‘Are you ready?’ she asks him briskly. ‘Yes— no— ’ ‘No?’ Her fingers brush his entrance, and then stop. She can clearly see he’s gaping a little, and her clit throbs at it, but she pretends not to have seen. ‘Is there something the matter? I need to do an examination to see if the treatment is working—’ Rolan’s toes curl beside her. One advantage of being half-naked, she adds to her mental accounting. If he belonged to her, perhaps she would alternate how he was dressed each time she bent him over to train him. ‘Rolan,’ she says firmly, when he still doesn’t answer her question. ‘I...’ ‘Yes?’ ‘I used— one of my toys—’ he chokes out. ‘I cannot explain myself— I—’ He grips the bench tightly. ‘It would be a waste of time to examine me. I failed. I will start again— ’ ‘Enough!’ she interrupts. Her voices drops lower, but it is still stern. ‘I will inspect the damage myself. You understand that my treatments are magical; following them incorrectly can have worse effects than simply doing nothing at all.’ ‘You do not have to teach me about magic,’ Rolan says bitterly, evidently reproaching himself far more than he is her. She feels a little sorry for him. When will needy little whores like him accept that this is who they are? That they would be much happier if they allowed someone else to take away all this shame— to take care of them? ‘I doubt any lasting harm has been done,’ she murmurs. ‘But I need to take a look. I’ll be very gentle. Breathe for me.’

Rolan’s hole yields easily; she strokes encouragingly beneath his tail as she presses in. The tip of his tail arcs down, wrapping briefly around her shoulder until he realises what he’s done, and withdraws. Not at ease with intimacy, she notes to herself. She half-wants to put it back herself, but if her patient does not want it then she will not venture something so unnecessary for treatment. She is only exploring with one finger today; applied to the right spot, it is enough. His cock thickens, heating with lust, and she continues her explorations until it leaks, the pearl gathering on the tip and then rolling slowly down his shaft. ‘All in working order,’ she summarises, and Rolan’s toes curl tight again. ‘Besides being a little more stretched than you should be at this stage, no harm seems to have been done.’ ‘Hmm.’ The cleric slips her fingers out, and his thighs twitch, tense with nervous energy. ‘I’ll clean you up, and then you can dress.’ ‘No need,’ Rolan says hurriedly, and casts Prestidigitation, snatching up his trousers with alacrity. ‘So… I will merely need to use the salve for longer? I suppose I will need to pay you for more— ’ ‘Not so fast.’ She gestures him back to the bed, seeing his eagerness to leave. ‘Let me wash my hands first. We have to discuss— ’ ‘There is nothing else left to discuss,’ Rolan says tightly. ‘There is, if you want your problem to be cured.’ ‘I won’t make the same mistake again.’ ‘Easier if you know why that mistake happened in the first place.’ Rolan’s eyes flash; for a moment, she thinks he will be a hopeless case, and has half a mind to sell him another jar and tell him not to come back. But then, suddenly, the storm threatening in his scowl abates, and he averts his gaze. ‘I… cannot finish without it.’ ‘Without something inside you?’ ‘Yes,’ he whispers, looking miserable. ‘I was trying to resist entirely— but once I had begun I couldn’t stop myself wanting relief, and... my resolve broke. Wretched Hells—how has this happened to me? I swear, I was not always like this!’ What is like this, the cleric wants to ask; like a man who needs touch, release, affection? Who needs to imagine a lover where he denies himself one? But those are not problems she is paid to solve, and she needs to think a little longer on them. ‘Come back tomorrow,’ she says. ‘I will have something for you.’ Fortunately, she has observed his cock at enough length to be sure of the purchase she is going to make before then.

[read part 3 here!]

[mmelete]

If I had a nickel for every time a genuinely nice, positive, occasionally shy but clearly determined character with a hefty side of sass got misinterpreted in the fandom as a cinnamon roll or got infantilized, I would be a millionaire.

[gasps-inspanish]

Snippet from the current fic I’m working on, which for now goes by T7

“Sir yes sir” Kyle said. Hal cracked a smile and ruffled his hair. “Oh come on my hair”!

“It was already messed up,” Hal laughed as he shrugged on his jacket over his uniform and climbed out the window. “I just helped”!

And then he was gone, and even though Kyle was by himself, for the first time in a long time he didn’t feel alone.

[lily-claw]

I was gonna wait until I finished the drawing to send this one but welp, then I'd have to wait until finishing my mid-term exams to finish the drawing 🫠

I couldn't wait to see @sapphicflower-ao3 's reaction 🥺🤧

art is inspired by "The Art of Falling"

[creativitwincest]

You take requests O: what about them dying each others hair?

I can see Remus just being messy as all get out with it but he does His Best so Roman's hair is nice.

Remus 100% goes at it with his bare hands

[vqmpircs]

“best friends to lovers trope” this “enemies to lovers trope” that, what about the trope where the love between two individuals is so strong, so all-consuming, so desperate it makes them defy heaven, going against god and everything they once believed in. they risk EVERYTHING for one person, dedicating their life to them, their devotion to them so primal it eats them from the inside out.

[fourthcupofrice]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, Linked Universe - Fandom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sky & Wild (Linked Universe), Four & Sky (Linked Universe), Four & Sky & Wind (Linked Universe), Sky & Wind (Linked Universe), Legend & Sky (Linked Universe), Legend & Wind (Linked Universe), Link & Tetra (Legend of Zelda), Tetra (Legend of Zelda) & Wind (Linked Universe) Characters: Wind (Linked Universe), Sky (Linked Universe), Legend (Linked Universe), Four (Linked Universe), Tetra (Legend of Zelda), Tetra's Crew (Legend of Zelda), Time (Linked Universe), Warriors (Linked Universe), Twilight (Linked Universe), Wild (Linked Universe) Additional Tags: I tagged the guys with speaking roles, sorry Rulie, Wind (Linked Universe)-centric, Sky (Linked Universe)-centric, Chain meets Wind, meeting Wind, Wind Waker Gameplay Mentions, Master Sword (Legend of Zelda), Tetra is a Pirate, and that's why i gave her a flintlock, Scottish Wind, just cause, Minor Angst, just a lil, Not Beta Read

  Summary:

Wind meets the gang fic. :) I wrote my first lu fic! I wanted to get back into the rhythm of writing for zelda again, and figured this would be a fun way to do it! 

[beyourownanchor6]

hoodiebuck -> beyourownanchor6

needed a change 🫶🏼

tagging some friends: @redlightsandicedtea @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @lonelychicago @wikiangela @loveyourownsmiilee @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @bi-buckrights @daffi-990 @wildlife4life @underwaterninja13 @father-salmon @ronordmann @gamer-kai @spaceprincessem @eddiebabygirldiaz @confetti-cupcake @elvensorceress @justsmilestuffhappens @swiftiebuckleyhan @queerbuckleys @jackluvsdaniel @queerdiaz @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @thewolvesof1998

[magdabuena]

GRRR BARKING AJD SCREAMING AND CRYING. WHYYYY DO I HAVE TO NAME MY FANFICS??? </3