Late 20s tgirl. Elf ear pervert. Some say hemipenis girl. Writing mostly original F/F. Stories will frequently be horny so if you're under 18 you're getting blocked.



caffeinatedOtter
@caffeinatedOtter

"Boss," Hashi's talking lizard croaks from its felt-padded wicker basket on her desk, "I dink you godda problem wid dat one."

The lizard is not wrong.

"Shaddup," Hashi tells it, not looking up from the piece she's appraising through a jeweller's monocle.

Fern's been coming in for months, with a steady stream of stolen items of escalating ambition. And initially, Hashi had been screwing her over on her cut because that's business. Lowballed profit estimates and exaggerated risks.

But at some point Fern had been glancing around Hashi's workshop and they'd exchanged a few words about Hashi's fondness for elven crackle-glazed brightware, and Fern unsubtly started a pivot from stealing whatever's going to things Hashi likes. And Hashi—

Well.

It started when she was looking over a beautiful little horse sculpture, and out of the corner of her eye Hashi saw the thief lick her lip; rapid flash of tonguetip, eyes riveted on Hashi, hungry, and Hashi made the terrible mistake of mixing business with pleasure and shamelessly lied. Looked at the little horse and said it was a good counterfeit, and valuable — to a lesser degree — in its own right, but early Aspen-Against-the-Sky period not genuine Fingers-Plunged-in-Red-Loam, look, you can tell by the glaze oxidisation.

The horse is in her safe, now, and she takes it out sometimes and puts it on her desk and stares at it and gets off fast and hard, one hand in her pants, whimpering round a mouthful of her own fingers, picturing the damp gleam of a nearly, nearly tearful eye, the determined firming of a full bottom lip against its own tremble, the straightening of back and shoulders, and the burred edge in a voice promising that the next thing will be better.

Flawed, she lies coldly. Value brought down by condition. Too recognisable. Fake, squeezing her thighs together beneath the desk.

There is absoutely no way this ends well, but there is also no graceful way out.

And the lizard is not wrong, because, sickeningly, Hashi is starting to suspect she might actually like Fern.



caffeinatedOtter
@caffeinatedOtter

"Pisslicking ass," Chitin Captain Coleopter says, throwing that morning's Daily Post onto the table. "Have you seen this? There's a grainy tabloid photo of Hymenopter skulking hand-in-hand into some groupie's shitty apartment after we split up to go home last night."

There's a short silence.

"Well," Mantodea says, peering into her carrot-ginger-turmeric smoothie and prodding the straw into it like a minature gondolier, "it is a pretty shitty apartment, but not actually a groupie. And also not like that."

Coleopter hurriedly claws the newspaper back across the table and stares at it, then at Mantodea.

"You," she says. "You took Hymenopter home?"

"It was not like that," Mantodea says.

Odonata opens her mouth, and subsides when both of the reflexively turn to glare at her.

"No hymen jokes, ever," Coleopter hisses.

"The Slime Devil erupted in the middle of the night," Mantodea says.

"It was not that late for those of us with lives—"

"Middle of the night, Col. I transformed back in a ooze-covered alley in bunny pajamas and bare feet, remember?"

"So, what," Coleopter says. "They didn't want us to laugh at their PJs?" Her face drops. "Oh god, it wasn't fucking ahegao print or some shit—"

"Some people," Mantodea interrupts, "sleep nude."

During the pause, Odonata opens her mouth again, cautiously, then subsides under Coleopter's glare.

"So." Colepter says. "So you took them home. And you expect me to believe that wasn't some ooh, no matter what you've got under your exoskeleton, I want my slobber all over it! thing."

"Did you want this to be a groupie photo, or haha, Chitin Captain secret identity uncovered? Hymenoptera caught entering own house in costume! photo, ho-bag?" Mantodea says levelly. "Or maybe an indecent exposure arrest? Don't be such a fucking dick."

"Fine," Coleopter says. "...Fine, sure, you're right," and stomps out of the room.

"Slobbered all over that, though, right," Odonata says, when she's out of earshot.

"Dude, we've been doing that for six months," Mantodea says irritably, sweeping the tabloid off the table into the trash.



bethposting
@bethposting

u can tell a a horny story online was written by a cishet dude if it describes a major female character like

She had waist-length flame red hair and luscious D cup breasts. She was 5'7" tall and had hip-waist-bust measurements of 40"-25"-40".


estrogen-and-spite
@estrogen-and-spite

Once again tempted to see if I can trick cishet men into cranking it to drider smut by pointing out that abdomen/thorax divide would technically create an incredibly small waist.



SpectreWrites
@SpectreWrites

why did sparkle warrior pluto suddenly blow up again



SpectreWrites
@SpectreWrites

I'd say also look at the other stuff but honestly I think every high-effort work I've made has at least one horny chapter or is going to have one

remember like two months ago when i said i wouldn't write porn? hilarious.


SpectreWrites
@SpectreWrites

I think the only thing I have above 2500 words that I at no point have gone or plan to go AND THEN HOT GAY SEX HAPPENED (to varying degrees of detail) is You Wouldn't Know Her


SpectreWrites
@SpectreWrites

i mean they did have hot gay sex

but not that I wrote


SpectreWrites
@SpectreWrites

anyway, if you come look at this account for hot pluto takes and not the rest of my writing, I don't have strong opinions about if pluto is a planet or not. I generally consider it to be one.