#rat fics

“A-aha.. Angelfish, we’re in a public area.. people can see us, Dear.. H-huh? You don’t mind?? I-I see..” Flustered octopus noises

Now, don’t mistake this for Azul not wanting your cuddles or kisses.

He’s just not used to it. Give him a couple of weeks, maybe a month max and he’ll return it 10 fold.

It might take him a while before he cuddles you in his mer-form though.

——————————————————————————

“Are you sure about this..? The last thing I want is to hurt you, Pearl.”

Azul shuffled awkwardly in the Octavinelle pool. His tentacles had a mind of their own, however. It laches onto you instantly. You can feel the suction cups on your skin, and they hold on tightly. Scared to let you go. Those will surely leave a mark.

“I still can’t believe you’d want to cuddle someone like me..”

Azul muttered with a conflicted look. Soon, all of his worries washes away as you swim closer to him on your own accord to give him kisses all over his face, telling him how lucky you are to be able to see this side of him, and how much you love him.

Azul’s face bloomed to a darker shade of purple. His tentacles wrapped around you tightly as his arms cling onto you tightly. He hides his face in your chest and mutters a soft ‘I love you too’ and lets silence fill the room and you take comfort in each others arms.

——————————————————————————

Floyd

Oh boy, here we go

Floyd adore it when you squeeze him tightly. It feels as if you’re reciprocating his feelings of love!

No one has ever dared squeezed him back before, so you better keep it up or he’ll be mad and pouty for the whole day

Speaking of which, Azul uses your cuddles to help make Floyd more productive in the Monstro Lounge.

He likes it when you surprise him with your cuddles, and he likes to surprise you with his squeezes. It’s a win win situation for him!

“Shrimpy~~ you forgot to squeeze me today.. you have to make it up to me now!~~ Maybe I’ll keep you by my side for the whole day so I can squeeze you whenever I want!~~”

Floyd is a cuddler when he sleeps.

Ramshackle be damned, cause you’re sleeping in Octavinelle now with Floyd

(Grim does not like this ^)

You best believe he’ll cuddle you in your sleep, and you will too. The feeling of your arms around him makes him sleep faster

(Although every Wednesday at 1 am he wakes up for a midnight snack)

Floyd likes to put up a small fight with anyone who dares to take his shrimpy away from his ‘cuddle time’

He will also fight anyone he sees you cuddling with as well. Shrimpy’s hugs are reserved for him only!

(^he was picked a fight with Grim because of this)

((Grim is not happy))^

He nibbles and bites too if he feels like it

Which is basically everyday

Will get sad and pouty when you deny him of his daily cuddles and hugs, but you won’t deny him of his hugs, right?

You are his shrimpy, after all (:

———————————————————

“Eeeeeh? Shrimpy, where do you think you’re going?~~”

Floyd stalks behind you as you walk out of his dorm room. His heterochromatic eyes stared into your soul. His eyebrows scrunched up and a frown was plastered on his face. He hasn’t even finished changing yet!

“You haven’t given me my morning hugs and kisses yet!~~”

The eel whines as he drapes himself over your body. Long lanky arms snake up from behind as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Shrimpy is so mean..~ depriving me of my hugs and kisses..”

He pouts as you laugh warmly at how childish he was being. You turned around and embraced the silly eel in your arms and pressed kisses all over his face and gave him a tight squeeze. Floyd instantly brightens up, and he lets out a ‘yay!’ in response.

——————————————————————————

Artturi just tsk’s, sporting the same soft smile he’s had since Oscar entered his office and laid himself out on the physio table. He holds Oscar’s bent knees firmly, in that stupidly strong grip Oscar is all too familiar with. It’s frustrating, the effect he has on Oscar; but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t help soothe some of the restlessness vibrating his bones.

“Just ‘cause I haven’t taken it before,” Oscar rambles on, letting his legs spread open further as Artturi manipulates them as he sees fit, “doesn’t mean I can’t, like, take the whole thing.”

“I do not want to risk hurting you, you know this,” Artturi replies simply, factual care in his tone that would stir up a warmth in Oscar’s belly if he wasn’t already burning whitehot with horrible and embarrassingly desperate need.

And that same care had been proven mere moments ago, evident in how long he had insisted on working Oscar open on his thick fingers; paying no mind then either when Oscar said he didn’t need to be quite so fucking precious with him. The amount of lube Artturi had used alone was obscene. He wouldn’t be surprised if globs of it had dripped from his ass, onto the table, all the way down to the floor.

Now, though, the very concept of care feels like nothing more than a method of torture. It feels like Artturi has been hovering naked between his legs for hours already. Oscar’s not sure if he’s trying to assess something, if he’s admiring his handywork, or if he’s just prolonging things for the hell of it. Regardless of the reason, the attention makes his skin buzz.

“I know.” Oscar lets out a breath, steadily holding Artturi’s eye in hopes it’ll help drive his point home. “But I won’t break, you know that. You put me through hell and back during sessions, I always walk out in one piece.” Artturi’s gaze breaks away, flitting down again to where Oscar’s open and ready for him. He must finally find whatever he’s looking for as he nods in agreement.

“Yeah, I know.”

Oscar is about to dig his heel into the meat of Artturi’s thigh to move things along, but he doesn’t get the chance. Artturi shifts his grip on Oscar’s legs, coming to cup the backside of either of Oscar’s sweaty knees, pressing easily until his legs fold in on himself. The change in position isn’t enough to hurt or pull anything of course, but it’s enough for Oscar to let out a soft, startled noise. It feels wildly different to be manhandled outside of the gym.

He’s about to hold himself open for Artturi – it’s what all the bottoms seem to do in the porn he’s watched, maybe the polite thing to do anyway – but Artturi’s grip stays steady, other than to bat his hands away with a flick of his fingers. “You think I am not strong enough to hold your legs, really?” he teases, in that nearly flat tone that no one seems to understand the meaning of, aside from Oscar.

Oscar rolls his eyes, but gives him the smile he’s after. “Just thought it might be tricky to actually stick it in me like this. Unless you’re planning to poke around and hope for the best.” It earns a hearty chuckle in return.

“If you could see what I am seeing, you would know that would not be a problem.” Oscar can feel his face fall away to something flushed and earnestly wanting; mirrored back to him in Artturi’s own expression. “However,” Artturi continues, “yes, I will use my hand to guide myself in.”

He moves Oscar’s left leg up to rest on his shoulder before bringing his now free hand to his own dick. The air feels cool in the absence of his touch, and Oscar’s only realizing now that he never took his socks off. He can only focus on that for a moment, though, before there’s something blunt nudging against his hole. It’s not pressing or pushing, yet not really teasing either – Oscar can tell that much by the sheer look of focus in Artturi’s eyes. No, it’s like he’s savouring it. 

The whole thing is starting to make Oscar a little dizzy.

“M’gonna press in and out a few times, until it slides in, okay?” His voice is nothing more than a low rumble, clouded with lust that only fuels Oscar’s own. It’s all suddenly very real. Oscar moves his hand back to meet Artturi’s on the leg he’s still supporting, but this time it’s not to replace it, but rather cover it. As close as handholding as he can get with how Artturi’s currently occupied.

“Uh huh,” Oscar breathes, nodding ever so slightly, greedily drinking in any part of Artturi he can see. He wishes he could actually bend himself in half, if just to be able to see what it looks like when Artturi pushes inside him for the first time.

Artturi nods as well, and then Oscar feels it. The firm but spongy tip of Artturi’s cock pressing against his hole, with purpose this time; though it’s gone again before he can really appreciate it. It’s back before the humiliating whimper trembling on Oscar’s lips has a chance to escape at least. The pressure is only marginally more than the first touch, but to his sensitive and unacquainted nerve endings, it just feels like more. 

Artturi repeats the same back and forth a handful of times, the slippery wet sound of lube smearing around is the only noise in the room, aside from their breaths hitching in time with the contact. In all honesty, Oscar thought he’d hate this a little. The feeling of almost there but not enough. God, was he wrong, it’s nearly hypnotic.

On the next press, the head of his cock finally slips in all at once before the motion stops almost instantly, nestled just inside him. The way Oscar clenches around him at adjusting to sensation is entirely involuntary. But the second time – after hearing the throaty groan it earns him – well, that one’s on purpose.

“You’re so tight,” Artturi says, sounding way more wrecked than any of this should call for. He places his hand back behind Oscar’s knee, moving carefully to ensure he doesn’t slip in any further.

“Yeah, well, never done this before, ‘member?” Oscar tries to sound cheeky, but he can hear how dazed he sounds even to his own ears. Artturi’s hips twitch at the words, sliding in a touch further and knocking loose garbled sounds from the both of them.

“You’re taking me so well, Oscar,” trails out along with the back half of Artturi’s moan, “I do not think I will last long.”

Oscar arches up off the table, drunk on how far gone Artturi is from just this. Like getting to experience Oscar – this incredibly limited sample of him – is more than he could ever dream of. He squeezes Artturi’s hand under his own. “Then, don’t. Please, wanna feel it.”

Artturi just nods again, lips parted and looking breathless already as he peers down at where they’re connected. He thrusts his hips shallowly, enough for Oscar to feel the ridge of his cockhead pop out past the ring of muscle, then back in. The slick sounds filling the room have Oscar thinking it must be a miracle that he’s not slipping out of him completely. 

Oscar takes it all in with a sense of awe. The deep pink that’s creeping up Artturi’s chest and neck, all the way up to his rosy cheeks. The breathy gasps echoing in his ears as Artturi chases his orgasm. Oscar’s not even all that close himself; there’s not enough stimulation where he needs it. He wonders idly, though, if Artturi looked like this for long enough – all because of Oscar – if he might be able to come untouched anyway.

Oscar can see the warning Artturi is trying to form, though the words never make it past his tongue as all at once he stills; followed by the strange feeling of come gushing hot and wet inside Oscar’s body. He clenches around him, determined to milk Artturi for all he’s worth the best he can. Aside from a few twitches, Artturi is nearly unmoving as his orgasm wracks through him. It takes Oscar a moment too long to realize it’s a very concentrated act of self control.

The fire churning in Oscar’s gut bubbles at the thought, circling around the new overwhelming need to know how deep he usually buries himself in someone when he comes. He can’t help but think that if Artturi would let himself be less delicate with him, that maybe Oscar would be able to feel the aching press of him deep in his hips even days later.

The moment stretches on, but it can’t really be more than 10 seconds later that Artturi is beginning to settle back into his body, blinking a few times as if needing to adjust to his surroundings after that. Oscar’s not sure what expression he’s wearing, if it matches the astonishment and feral need that he feels, but whatever it is, Artturi seems pleased to see it as he offers a dopey smile.

“Think you’re gonna recover from this?” Oscar mumbles, giggling as Artturi’s eyes sparkle in response.

“I have to, if only to do that again.” Artturi replies shamelessly, “You… well, you, I'm not sure.”

“Shut up, I’m not the one who just went to god knows where and back.”

“Mm,” Artturi hums, almost sounding wistful, “no, you did not. We should fix that.”

With that, Artturi pulls out. Despite having gone completely soft, and not having been fully inside, Oscar still squeaks at the loss.

“You’re terrible at warning–! Oh–!” Oscar feels strong hands wrap around his thighs and pull him the rest of the way down the physio table, until his feet meet the edge. He’s about to continue scolding Artturi when suddenly there’s a hot, wet seal around his dick as Artturi takes him into his mouth; swallowing down whatever silly grievance he had to begin with.