hey there I am a proud, perverted, 22 y/o, multifandom erotica writer & artist!
linked below are ALL of my written fics that I could find spanning from 2020 to now… you have been warned
GabbaGoolCool Linktree
KPDH
Practice Makes Perfect rumi x mira - 2025
Marvel
stephen strange headcannon - 2022
Sit Back rouge x gambit drabble - 2025
DELTARUNE
Concessions tenna x reader - 2025
Mirrored Interests tenna x reader - 2025
Phonebook tenna x spamton - 2025
GEN V/THE BOYS
Petty Punishments - dean cipher x reader - 2025
Finer Tastes dean cipher x reader - 2025
Stained Glass dean cipher x reader - 2025
Strategic Snooping dean cipher x reader - 2025
MHA
I'll Take Care of You aizawa x reader - 2020
aizawa headcannons - 2020
Bathtime shigaraki x reader - 2020
Home shigaraki x reader - 2021
shigaraki headcannons - 2020
Remembrance dabi x hawks - 2021
A Flash hawks x reader - 2021
Secretary hawks x reader - 2020
Beach Getaway hawks x reader - 2021
hawks headcannons pt 2 - 2020
hawks headcannons pt 1 - 2020
I know it’s another form of objectification and body surveillance but because fatphobia is so ever present and suffocating in north america it is SO nice to briefly interface with a culture where a fat woman in the family is a mark of pride and a bragging point. someone make a fat version of this image bc this is how it feels
no no, i get it. i can see why you're confused- I want the CANON to be completely platonic, fucked-up exploration of intimacy that transcends human sexuality but never includes human sexuality.
A water nymph finds herself adrift without a home for hibernation in the raging winter season. Looking for shelter, she finds a great oak tree with a strange woman inside.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Wind chills her bones. The ice below harsh on her knees. Hands aching, slamming fists again and again at the ice. A variety of jars filled to the brim with treasures stared back up at her. Stones and gems gleam deep below the frozen river. Twinkling back at her. Taunting her. Muscles failing, flying fists finally coming to a stop. Not a single dent in the ice. She knew the season's shift was coming, just not this soon. All she can do is hold herself. High above her now distant home.
It's useless...
Folding in on herself, falling into the snow. Rolling over, eyes watching the gentle snowfall. So delicate yet so destructive. Her pale, thin fingers twist and twirl through the air, tracking the snowflakes. A shiver wracks through her body. Sitting up, fluttering her wings, her stomach drops. Looking back, trying again. The wings, still unmoving.
A sickening question emerges from the core of her very being. What's a river nymph with no water? Bauble remembers the faces of the fae that hadn't returned this last spring. Desperately scanning the meadow, locking in on a large, looming tree, dead center. The radius of its roots spanned a few yards, from which sprouted a towering monolith of oak wood. Shaking, scurrying across the meadow as fast as her pinkened legs could go. The frost bit at her skin. The wind picks up. Tightening the grasp on herself. Steadfast, eyes set ahead. One step at a time.
Reaching the base of the tree, exhaustion had nearly claimed her. An air of intensity encased the giant oak. An ancient plant, plump with memory in its wrinkled bark. Such an intensive, focused amount of energy. Bauble could practically see its encircling aura. She looks up. High above sits a ledge; somewhere to go. Tracing the warping, twisting ravines in the wood. A last-ditch effort to flap her wings is met with sharp pain shooting up her spine. Wincing, quickly opting for the ladder option.
It's climbable.
Clear foot holdings in between the wooden ridges. Focusing the last of her energy, she climbs. Embarrassed, but not unaccustomed to climbing, she's quick. All of her effort spent, throwing herself into the hollowed tree, over the ledge. Slumping to the floor, shriveling in the entryway. Watching her icy breath. The cold sets in. Just then, her pointed ears picked up a noise.
Snapping, popping wood. The smell of ash. Ahead, a long stretch of heated light rays just out of reach. A fireplace housing a crackling woodpile. Hand inching towards the warmth. Barely touching its edge before fading completely. Sleep overtakes her.
Warm herbal fragrances cram-pack into her nostrils. She takes a deep inhale, welcoming waves of chamomile and honey to her senses. An herbal cloud of steam mists her face, its little manifesting droplets taking to her cheeks like morning dew to a field. A heated lip presses to hers, enhancing the healing aromas. Opening her eyes, Bauble squints through the soft wall of steam streaming from a cup.
In front, the once distant fire was now mere feet away. Its flames dance beautifully before Bauble; its performance staged within its surrounding, large, stone hearth, just for her. To the left, a shadowy figure holds a mug at the ready. Bauble's vision focuses in, eyes telescoping, concentrating. Adjusting to the light.
The tall, cloaked being tilted the tea further, "It will help."
The stranger's voice was near melodious. Rhythmic in a way. Bauble accepts the drink, allowing the stranger's hands to delicately pour tea into her mouth. Chest swelling with energy, Bauble felt her vitality return. Life slowly remitting itself upon her. Snatching the cup from the stranger's hands. Turning away, gulping the rest down, wiping her chin.
Feeling around, it was soft. Below, pillowy layers of wool embrace Bauble and the tall, strange woman. A few dozen fabrics make up the blanket heap. Some matching with the layers of the woman's shawls and cloaks. She looked so comfortable. At such ease in dealing with a potential break-in.
Interesting.
"What are you doing here?" the voice asks.
Bauble stands and explores the menagerie of shelves surround them. Each space is filled to the brim with trinkets. Gold jewelry, shimmering threads, dusty books, pressed flowers, and... Gemstones. Hundreds and hundreds of gemstones. Bauble tries to keeping the eyes from popping out of her head. Carnelian, Garnet, Sunstone, Rose Quartz, and Agates of all shapes. Eyeing a particularly speckled, colorful pebble, sipping the last few dribbles of tea.
I can always start again…
"I thought water nymphs would be hibernating by now," the honeyed voice continues.
Blood surges to Bauble's cheeks.
Whipping back around on her heel, snapping at the woman, "What'd the hell do you know about my cycles?"
Continuing the questioning, "You climbed my tree. Why not fly?"
Eyes furrowing, Bauble sets the mug down with a thud against the oaken table. Striding back across the room, taking a wide stance. Now straddling the stranger's legs between her own. Leaning in, close, "You know... It's just so, so very cold."
The stranger huffs, then leans back, inviting. Saddling up, Bauble gets to work. Hands weave through the stranger's layers of robes. Tracking the other's heartbeat, sliding through folds until reaching skin. Fully pressing down, palming for their heart.
"And you're so very warm."
The shrouded woman doesn't respond. Instead, meeting Bauble's eyes. Head tilting, scanning. With a deep sigh, "You have taken something from me."
Roots trail and trace up Bauble's legs, looping around her calves. With a yank, Bauble is forced back onto the floor. The wrangling binds bring Bauble to her knees.
"I suggest that you return it."
"I did no such thing."
The fire behind the Bauble roars. The woman exhales hotly, "I don't take kindly to liars."
Gentle venom dripping from each word. A spark of exhilaration flashes in Bauble's eyes.
Bauble looks up to the fae once more, "What? Gonna teach me a lesson?"
A fevered fervor surged throughout Bauble's entire body. Sweat trailing, skin glistening in the firelight before her captor. The stranger gazed down languidly at the little bound fae in her grasp. Taking a weathered hairpin, twisting her hair up. Strong legs peaking from dual skirt slits, muscles rippling. Crouching before Bauble, eyes glistening. Such deep dark pools. A perfect inky black sky, missing it's stars. Bauble is utterly entranced.
"Something like that," she answers.
Pulling each individual finger out of her gloves, revealing long, dark fingers. Slowly, withdrawing each digit from its sleeve. Each one is a suggestion. Speckled like rouge firelight embers, freckles cascade down calloused hands. Her skin, a deep, beautiful brown. Something began to stir.
"It's... gettin' kinda hot in here... no?"
"Oh, did you need something?"
Bauble laughs, chin pinched between two fingers.
“Interested in trying to ask for something, first?”
Bauble couldn't decide which ate at her more, her ego getting kicked to hell or the fact she was enjoying it. She wanted more.
"You know, manners, and all that…" sharp finger traced Bauble's jawline, catching the sweat, flicking it to the floor.
The wooden dryad pops back up onto her feet. Striding around her prey, watching the roots take hold. They bind and lock themselves onto one another. Spiraling, swirling circles of twisting vines. Beautiful sacred geometry. It was as if Mother Nature herself was painting a piece right before on the pale, fae's body. Just for her. She continues stalking around.
Sandalwood, dragon's blood, deep incense, and… something else. Something thick in the air, hot. It burned Baubles' senses, inputs overloading. Bauble can't see her, but she could certainly feel her. Eyes, boiling into the back of her head. Then fingers; Bauble could feel her.
Hesitant, controlled movements. Inspecting. Delicate, soft fingers carefully guide the tired wings outwards. Tracing the veins, trailing all along their forewing. Currents of electric shocks reverberated back up into Bauble's spine. She could feel everything.
“I suppose not… At least these are looking much better.”
Soft, just a whisper, "Such a pretty little thing…"
The stranger gingerly returns the wing to its place.
"Who are you?" Bauble breathed out.
"What are you even doing in this old tree, huh?" words straining.
The stranger tsks, "I thought you were so very cold, no?"
The air is heavy. Each hair on Bauble’s body stands on end. Every part of her urging towards the woman. The ache, a fire-hot lead in her lower abdomen.
"Just please, put that damn fire out. I am burnin' up,” Bauble pants.
Dropping her head forward, Bauble hopes the air on her neck might give some relief. Instead, the sweltering blaze was now replaced with a weight. Prickles of nerve endings light up all across the back of her neck. Lips brush past the shell of her ear.
"The fire has long been nothing but mere soot for a while now, little nymph," the stranger chides.
Oh.
A million thoughts race through Bauble's mind. Usually Bauble would be hibernating by now, alone. Deep, dark, and alone to deal with… with this feeling.
When did she get in front of me, again?
"Feeling alright?" the woman taunts.
"Come now, what's got you so heated, little water nymph?" purring into her ear once more.
Bauble realized very quickly, she wasn't going anywhere. Maybe a cycle spent with someone else wouldn't be so bad.
Especially if that someone was her.
Bauble's heart was pounding. Muscles failing, once again.
Bauble secedes, "Fine... You win."
Bauble drops her head.
Nodding towards a tucked hem, "Take it."
Slow fingers skim the lip of the waistband, then flip before nudging and bumping. Bauble pants, the heat making her head swim. Long, elegant hands palm, softly searching. Inching ever closer. Bauble closes her eyes tightly, trying to keep herself steady. Hands feeling like fire against Bauble’s skin. Finally, hooking her fingers in, tugging. Two fingers emerge with a gemstone betwixt them. Her captor smiles, satisfied.
Bauble exhales, catching up to her own breath, "Lesson learnt and all that… Now let me go."
She knows the roots would catch her. Maybe she wouldn't mind a game. A chase.
"Lesson learned, huh?" the woman drawls.
A solitary finger snags, popping the first button of the cloak. Chest tightening at the sight. The woman's cloak thuds to the ground below. Bauble gawks at the sight in front of her. A tight sheer tunic, chest bare underneath. A deep plummeting V-line guides Bauble's starving eyes right on target. She could feel herself practically salivating.
Anything to get her hands on me, again.
"Well then… Go on. Tell me, what's on my mind, then?" pushing for a bark, falling to a yelp.
The woman laughs. An utterly insidious laugh, full-chested.
"As if it isn't clear from your scent alone. But if you wanna play games…"
Her smile grew wicked. The smaller rootlets writhing around Bauble, tighter.
“I asked you first.”
A continued strip tease and bauble starts to grind herself on the root nubs.
It's too much. I need something, anything.
A surge of relief wrecks Bauble's body. Finding a perfect little wooden knot, just below, in the tangle of brambles. Thick, smooth, little nodule. The seams in her undergarments catch, adding ridged texture as grinding down. Rubbing herself down on the wood, a soft moan escapes her lips.
"Poor thing," face now resting in Krähe's hands, "Can't hold on much longer?"
The roots stopped their ministrations entirely. Krähe recedes further from the water fae, waiting, watching. Patient.
"Gods, please have mercy on me, just..."
Krähe holds Bauble's face between two, loving hands, "They aren't listening, but I am."
Gently stroking her cheek, continuing, "Just tell me what you need."
Teary-eyed, Bauble shakes her head, "I need something, anything. I need… I need your touch."
The roots bent Bauble's legs, spreading. Thighs wide open.
"Mmm, you miserable little thing," groaning faintly at the sight.
"I'll answer your prayers," she continues.
With a flick of her wrist, the roots are off. Slithering in between and sliding off Bauble's layers. Its smallest tendrils nestling close, once again continuing their stimulation. The larger ones rise Bauble up and back over to the forgotten blanket pile. The last layer of Bauble's ensemble comes undone, water-falling to the floor.
Waltzing toward Bauble, a hunk of toned, thick, trunk-like limbs. A carved piece, each delicate and perfected curve guiding Bauble all across the strange woman's body. Strands of hair softly frame sharp features, framing a wicked grin. Then, from behind, wings taking center stage. Deep warm tones, framed with black webbed designs. Beauty given form.
A dryad?
"You're like me."
"Yes."
"Who… who are you?"
The woman pauses. Face twisting, turning away.
"Please?"
The stranger pauses.
Taking a breath, "Krähe. I took after the feathered beast who once called this oak home."
"I'm not… alone?"
Krähe smiles, "You don't have to be."
Heart lightening, Bauble now weightless like a feather. Feeling high on the exhilaration, filled with want. With a need.
"And now, neither do I," she continues.
Leaning in, speckling soft kisses to Bauble's legs, "If you'd have me…"
I wonder if I am dead. This must be my afterlife. I wonder what I’d done to be as blessed as this. To earn all this.
She was quick; body entirely in tune with the brambles. Hundreds of little vines and roots, commanding their and Bauble's place. The vines hook, pulling off then shirking Bauble's cotton undergarments to the wayside. Krähe snakes her head under Bauble's skirt. Krähe continues trailing smooches and tender nibbles to Bauble's thighs. One hand hiking up the inner thigh, Krähe moves her other hand to spread Baubl's lips apart. Sticky to the touch, stringing itself to Krähe's fingers as exploring each layer.
Krähe presses her finger to Bauble's lips, "Suck."
Bauble obeys, eager to have a focus. To please.
"You'd make for such a pretty little addition to my collection."
Curling fingers rock upward.
"Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes…"
Heart skipping, Krähe turns up the tempo. A shift in angle kicks up Bauble's pulse.
"Yes! Yes, I would be, please-" Bauble babbles.
Adding another finger, they beckon Bauble closer to pleasure. Another. Delightfully full, Bauble beamed at the feeling. Relishing this feeling. This satisfaction in giving in to her. Submission to the Dryad, in its debauched entirety. She could become accustomed to all of this.
All at once, the pumping comes to a halt. Bauble twists and turns, body begging to be touched. Krähe recedes, standing up, dragging sharp nails down Bauble's thighs. Ruby red trails bloom beneath Krähe's long talons. Reeling from the pain and pleasure, swearing she saw stars. Bauble squirms in retaliation, a huff of feigned annoyance from the bound fae. A mess. Desperate for touch, once more. Krähe rises above Bauble, admiring her masterpiece.
With a whine from Bauble, Krähe snaps back to work. Sliding arms under the eggshell dress slip, Krähe pulls it over Bauble's head. With a quickness, happily continuing her lesson plan for Bauble, kissing all the way back down. A soft, peppering of lips all over. Down Bauble's neck to her collarbone, roving lower to plush stomach. Light nips every so often, making Bauble jolt. Krähe relishes her trek all the way down to Bauble's white, fluffy, happy trail.
"I wanna watch your whole body writhe beneath me."
Roots once again shot out, lifting Bauble up. This time, hips high above her head. Straining her neck to look up at Krähe before vines quickly rest in place. Bauble lowers her head back once more, fully exposed yet more comfortable than ever.
"There you are…" the dyad mutters.
The water nymph is surged up forward, cunt right at Krähe's mouth. Finally reaching bush, Krähe sighs with deep satisfaction. Smelling, savoring every detail. Saliva pools in Krähe's mouth. Flattening her tongue, licking a stripe through each section of the fae's nectar-filled flower below. A honeyed, delightful feast just for her, only for her. Krähe could devour her whole. Bauble felt that she just might. In fact, she prayed for it.
"M-more…" Bauble gasps
A thick tongue snakes its way deep inside of Bauble, her core tightening at the new sensation. Wet, sloppy noises pierce her ears as Krähe ruins her, below. The roots wound tighter. Bauble's ears burn.
"Never enough for you, hm?" Krähe mumbles back into her.
Bauble's binds began to move. Tightening around her waist, they began pistoning the nymph upwards onto Krähe's tongue. Bauble's head lolled back, treasuring this feeling. Trying desperately to cling to reality, to remember this moment. This feeling, being filled so deeply. She's needed this for so long. It satisfied something profoundly animalistic need inside of her. It was always there.
All of Bauble's nerves bristle on end. The knot, deep in Bauble's core, finally snaps. Letting herself go, fully pushing the orgasm through. Allowing it to work all the way down and through her whole body. Krähe latches on, mouth suckling, draining any leaking liquid. Krähe continued eating through her orgasm, a satisfied hum shaking her entire being.
She was warm.
authors note:
this is my secret santa gift to callmemarco from the The Erotica Abyss disc server! i hope you all had as much fun reading it as i had making it <3
Dance practice can get quite heated between bandmates, especially Rumi and Mira. Turns out, the deconstruction of dance moves can and will quickly shift into the deconstruction of Rumi's outfit.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rumi mindlessly mirrored Mira’s stretches. There was a comfort in these times. Mira had always made it a point to work with us individually. Rumi always appreciated Mira’s dedication to the art of dance.
“Here, like this.” Mira softly ran her hand up Rumi’s arm and pushed her shoulder back into her chest.
“Breathe here for two, and then continue the count.”
Rumi nodded. She loved listening to Mira speak; choreo rehearsals were the only time she took center stage in conversation. It was just Rumi in this moment in Mira’s eyes as her form bent and balanced, flowing through each practiced eight count, her very own art performed by her own muse.
“Push and up… and out, good."
They reset.
"Again.”
Rumi felt the sweat building on her brow, and she smiled as her calves burned. She feels Mira’s eyes on her, a pressure to perform. No, and eagerness. Rumi wanted to please her.
"Hold and tighten your core, Rumi.” Mira’s hand flattened to Rumi’s stomach, and a staggered breath escaped her lips.
Taking a deep breath, they both move into the next eight-count.
“Grab, here.” Mira hastily grabs Rumi's hand, placing it on her hip.
“And hit, hit, three, four, five, six, and yes!" Mira shouts.
"There!” Mira beams at Rumi, pumping her fists.
“Ugh, I knew you’d get it. We just needed some alone time.” Mira chucks a water at Rumi.
Rumi catches it, takes a long chug, and then subsequently tosses it to the side, then drops her hands to her knees, panting. Sweat drips from her down to the floor.
Rumi smiles, “Hah… yeah… whew, holy shit that was a lot.”
Mira laughs, “You’ll build the endurance once the muscle memory kicks into gear. Practice makes perfect, you’ll see.”
Rumi watches Mira strut in front of her, her perfectly shaped legs in her stretchy leggings. She stretches down to clock off the speaker, then stands up straight once more.
"Y'know... I can see you watching my ass in the mirror, right?"
Rumi's face drops to the floor, flush with embarrassment, "Oh, wow, I'm sorry-"
"All the way down," Mira catches Rumi's eyes in the mirror, "to the floor."
Rumi swallows thickly, following quickly down on her knees to the floor. Her hands quickly followed, her head rose, her back arched, waiting intently for her next move.
"Crawl to me..." Mira curls her fingers, beckoning Rumi forward, still watching from the mirror, back turnt.
Rumi obeys, crawling, never breaking eye contact, all the way to Mira. A soft hum, then Mira turns around, finally facing her.
"Good puppy." Mira coos, intertwining her fingers into Rumi's thick hair, undoing the long braid.
Rumi's hair gracefully, waterfalls from her head to her shoulders, "Sit, girl."
Back onto her calves, Rumi looks up, patiently with wide eyes; so eager to perform, too eager to please. Rumi was exactly where she wanted to be. Bending over and latching to each of her hips. Mira pulls the symmetrical zippers down Rumi's leggings.
"These quick-change outfits are so useful..."
The familiar hot scent of cracked pepper and patchouli hit Rumi's nose, setting her nerves on fire. She just adored her scent; Mira always dabbed her perfume on her collarbone. Rumi's eyes wander, skipping across Mira's collarbone and into the cleavage directly ahead of her, "I could die a happy woman right now."
Mira stands back up, happily gazes down at her half-naked, blushing girlfriend, her hair pooling around her dopey face. Everything in Mira melted in that moment. Then her eyes widened, blushing, watching Rumi gently pull her cropped hoodie off, revealing a hot pink, lacey bralette. Spiraling soft floral patterns interwoven between velvet pink boning, cupping soft, warm, chest. Her girl, in her colors.
"I cannot believe you wore that to practice..." Mira chides, quickly dropping to the floor to investigate the set closer.
"Lean back, puppy."
Rumi spreads her thighs and leans back, resting on her forearms, presenting herself fully to her girlfriend. She relishes the feeling of Mira eating her alive with just a look. Pulling the panties to the side with a thick trail of slick following behind, Mira gets to work. Fingers knead into folds, massaging each layer, spreading her pre-cum thoroughly. Mira always loved how wet Rumi could get, especially after just a bit of foreplay.
"Raise your hips, just like that..." Rumi pushes her hips up off the ground, above Mira's lap, right in her face.
A finger begins pushing into Rumi. She sighs in relief, wobbling slightly. Mira's hands find the small of Rumi's back, supporting her.
"Hold," she commands.
Rumi's core burned, "M-Mira, this is getting a little, uhf-" her knees shook, "Difficult!" she whines.
"You've earned it, let go."
Her soft words reverberated in Rumi's mind. Her brain could cling to nothing else. Her head drops back as another finger is added, feeling sweat pool down her back. A layer of soft, blissful static rises through her extremities, and a feverishness overtakes her as her skin's markings glow ever so softly. A gentle grin extends across Mira's face as, watches Rumi.
"You earned this, my poor puppy works so hard..." She muffles herself between Rumi's legs. Rumi's soft, long, slender tongue traces and trails up shaking, tired thighs.
"Too hard, really… You feel how good my fingers can massage you? How well I can care for you?"
Her fingers arc up into the upper muscle, finding her G-spot. Eyes half lidded, watching her partner squirm. Tightly squeezing her eyes, Rumi heaves her last breath before finally releasing, fully. Sopping, wet noises, heavy breaths fill the room, Mira watching closely as Rumi rode out her high.
Finally, Rumi's hips drop to Mira's lap below her.
"The exhaustion to overstimulation pipeline is so real." Rumi sighs, exacerbated.
"You just need a bit more endurance. Practice makes perfect, right?" Mira smirks down at the mess of purple hair before her. She contentedly pops her fingers into her mouth, savoring the taste, "Let's take it from the top, shall we?"
The fact that the thing that makes Tenna even slightly suspicious of the mikes is their asses is certainly a choice. that its now doubly canon that he's an ass guy is so golden
