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papernautilus.bsky.social
naut. 🖤
@papernautilus.bsky.social
430 followers 300 following 1.8K posts
🔞 30+ | she/they | ♈️
🐺 horror + romance 🐰
✍️ fanfiction writer 🪦🕊 #nautwrites
✨️ multifandom: FFXIV, BG3, ghoulcy, mouthwashing, et al. 🌙
🩸 an extremely weird octopus. 🔪
⛓️ https://papernautilus.straw.page/
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papernautilus.bsky.social
finished pilgrims traverse for the caboy crumbs thanks to @che-che-cheo.bsky.social dragging my corpse across the finish line
November 13, 2025 at 2:27 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
a snippet from a reader/corbeau fic in which harmony decides to pay off urbain's debt with her body. (corbeau doesn't let her.)
#nautwrites
Corbeau finally squatted down, the smoky miasma of his cologne engulfing you. "And what do you have," Corbeau whispered, "that can equal such a cost?" You pressed your hands into the marble and met his gaze; you expected sadism, and instead found genuine curiosity. His expressions were always so at odds with his harsh inflection, and it unbalanced you as you stammered out, "M-My body." Corbeau looked unimpressed, as if you'd offered nothing more than a café coupon. "And how many times have you used this particular method to get yourself out of unsavory situations?" "I've never—" you swallowed, tried to find that bravery that allowed you to ascend to Rank E in the Z-A Royale. "I've never. With anyone," you clarified. "You would be the first." Corbeau's eyes widened behind his glasses, and he couldn't hide the catch of his breath. Now—now you truly had his entire attention. He leaned back on his heels as he appraised you anew. "You would prostitute yourself?" Corbeau raised an eyebrow. "For him? For AZ? For a city you barely even know?" "Better that than to be in debt to a wannabe mafioso," you couldn't help but snap. Corbeau laughed; the sound was surprisingly soft. "Nothing can quench that fire in you, kid, can it?" He said with surprising fondness. Was this all amusing to him? Were you just another toy to be hung on his wall like so many fine paintings when he was finished with you? Humiliation rose to your cheeks with a sudden flush. He caught your chin in his slender fingers, dragging your head up to meet his searching gaze. "You can't take this back, you know," he warned. "Think carefully. You're much too young to ruin your life. Trust me, I'd know." "That didn't stop you from ruining Urbain's." Venom dripped from your tongue. "He's a big kid. I need to know you're absolutely certain." Corbeau was giving you an out, and you found yourself contemplating taking it. Exactly how much would you have to do? What would he ask you to do? You hadn't let yourself consider it until now as he cupped your chin in his chilly fingers. Your mind filled with pornographic images, each more vulgar than the last, and you are shocked to find only a strange heat filling your core. Was this for Lumiose's sake, or your own? You'd been asked time and time again by your competitors why you'd so recklessly thrown yourself into a bloodthirsty tourney. You'd mumbled some platitudes, but the truth of the matter was, it was for your sake alone that you persevered. For the seductive taste of victory in the back of your throat as another opponent fell to their knees before you. "I know what I'm worth," you finally exhaled. "As long as it doesn't interfere with my duties to the hotel." Corbeau smirked and stood; you felt strangely bereft of his touch. "Yes, that hotel. Strange that I've invested so much into its continued maintenance and never once stepped foot on its threshold. I'll have to pay them a visit—tonight."
November 11, 2025 at 3:44 AM
papernautilus.bsky.social
thank you dan and phil for addressing the catboy of it all
November 10, 2025 at 8:31 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
gaston my love 🫶💕🥺 my grumpy bunny...
November 3, 2025 at 2:24 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
There's not going to be a ilsabard expac, you stupid slut.
October 31, 2025 at 12:33 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
my husband made loaded baked potato soup today and i now understand this grebuloff on a spiritual level
October 21, 2025 at 11:01 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
welcome back to hell anon 💖
October 21, 2025 at 10:53 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
i received my themis zine today and i am just agog at all the love and attention and detail that has gone into this packaging!!! you guys knocked it out of the park!!!! @ffxivthemiszine.bsky.social
October 21, 2025 at 4:12 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
biblically accurate #lilith.exe
October 9, 2025 at 1:08 AM
papernautilus.bsky.social
i made one of those wol moodboards but you can look too. #lilith.exe
October 9, 2025 at 12:33 AM
papernautilus.bsky.social
I fear I was not thinking about jesus when I was listening to this in middle school
October 8, 2025 at 10:29 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
a snippet written in reaction to the new exarch story. 💎🔨 #crystalexarch
#nautwrites
He could not bring himself to drive the hammer down. His breath rattled in his ears, hissing wetly on the exhale. He tightened his grip on the hammer; it was his off-hand, but it would have to do. He could not feel the stone floor beneath his palm, only the intolerable seam between crystal and flesh, jagged crystal rending through muscle and fascia with every wrong move. Raha chokes on a sob, sweaty red strands falling into his eyes; he shoves them out of the way irritably with the back of his hand. He hefts the hammer, aiming above his target. Bends his elbow back as he tests the weight. Swinging once. Twice. Always coming just shy of the crystal, glimmering faintly in the hearthlight. It's a sculpture. It's not you. You cannot even feel it. He tries again to bend his fingers, to crook his thumb. There are no tendons nor nerves to convey the action. It isn't his arm anymore, he knows that. It's the Tower's cost. Raha shoves the belt between his teeth, incisors biting into the leather as he swings the hammer down. It clinks harmlessly against the sapphire. False start. That's alright. He has nothing but time to get this right. Three bedridden weeks wasted. Four sin eaters attacks he could not save them from. Twenty or more deaths. They were still digging the graves in the lilac hills. Saliva pools down his chin. He takes a long, shuddering breath, and drives the hammer once more. The hammer glances off one fractaled edge before spinning out of his hand, knocking over a stool as it spirals beneath the bed. Raha swears inarticulately through the belt. "Come on," he grunts, dragging the dumb, useless weight of his arm as he struggles to wedge himself beneath the bed. Staring at the cobwebs and moldering dust, Raha reconsiders his course. There were doubtless volumes in the Crystal Tower's libraries he hadn't accessed. There was no logic behind this choice. There was always another way. Crystal shreds through his flesh as he reaches for the hammer. He scrabbles out of the bed, staggering for a moment before collapsing against the wall, clutching the hammer as if it were the only thing left to him. His back slides down the wall, and he grimly presses the crystal arm down onto the stone floors. He couldn't sleep another night with this weight attached to him. He shoves the belt between his teeth, grinding down on his molars as he readies his arm again. He doesn't look at the crystal when he swings— instead he casts his gaze a little further. Told himself he would only drive the hammer into the stone floor. Raha's arm shatters in a profusion of crystal shards and viscera.
October 8, 2025 at 6:13 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
October 7, 2025 at 1:56 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
in the back of my mind, it's always there. 🔪
please enjoy my piece for this wonderful and ❗️FREE❗️fanzine that explores the origins of the fabled dead pixel.
#mouthwashing #nautwrites
“You are going to keep doing this until you get a reaction,” Curly retorts, “and I won’t give you the satisfaction. I know this game, Jimmy. I’m not playing it.” “You could dock his pay,” Swansea grunts. “Insubordination. Hazing. I can think of a few good things to send to Corporate. And you’ve got two witnesses.” He inclines his mug to Anya, who suddenly finds herself the object of Jimmy’s scrutinizing glare. “You’ll rat on me, then?” he snorts. “Just like that?” Curly snaps, “None of this is going to Corporate—” Jimmy stands; several hexagonal pieces cartwheel off the table and land on the scrubby carpet. “So you are too chickenshit after all to take command of your co-pilot—” She’d always thought it would be Jimmy who would resort to violence first; it seemed a fluent enough language to him. Perhaps Swansea, who already had somewhat cauliflowered ears from a lifetime ago of beatings, yellowing sclera suggesting long-term liver disease. He’d been frank about his sobriety, flicking his Alcoholics Anonymous coins onto her desk for her perusal. It is one of the things she admired most about the Chief of Engineering. But everyone has their limits. She never thought she’d see Curly reach his first.
September 19, 2025 at 7:34 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
little wife.👰
explicit; 4.8k. thorn & ophelia must fulfill their conjugal duties. a #LaPasseMiroir pwp oneshot. #nautwrites
archiveofourown.org/works/70938246
https://archiveofourown.org/works/70938246 Standing before him, something seemed to thaw within her; his wife sighs, crossing her arms. "How... how do you mean to fool the courts into thinking we've fulfilled our conjugal duties?" Thorn shrugs. "Muss the sheets. Apply some blood." Ophelia's pale cheeks color. "I will try to affect an aura of perfect contentment," she mutters. "This could all be so much easier if—" Her face grows mottled; she leans over to his undrunk cup of tea and downs that too, as if it were liquid courage. "I know you've said that I owe you nothing," Ophelia says, her voice going shrill with bravery, "but we can afford no detractors to think anything of our union other than perfect truth." And she sheds the greatcoat, baring her chemise to him. Her skin pebbles with gooseflesh, nipples peaking through the thin fabric. "We could—" she swallows hard. "We could at least try," she manages. "That is—if you are willing." If he was willing? A cardiac event was happening inside Thorn's ribcage, so raucous was the pounding of his pulse. He clicks open his pocketwatch again, to avoid looking at her. His gaze still drifts down to her knees between his, flushed and mottled with bruises. "I thought you made your opinion of me and this marriage perfectly clear." Ophelia sighs, her breath tickling his windchapped face. "And you have been very kind in coddling my feelings on the matter, but the fact remains, we and my family remain in danger if the court finds reason to discredit our union. Perhaps, for once, we need not conjure an elaborate ruse to do it." She takes her white-gloved hand to her mouth and nibbles on the seam of her glove, as she was wont to do. "And—perhaps I am—the littlest bit—curious." As ever, she cast all his carefully laid plans into perfect disarray.
September 16, 2025 at 10:13 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
1 like = 1 reply 🎶🤘
September 6, 2025 at 11:34 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
I have this fic completely sketched out in my mind right before I fall asleep and then I try to write anything during the day and it comes out like this. this fanfic shit is difficult difficult lemon difficult
“Oh Fury, I'm so sad about Haurchefant dying,” Aymeric said sadly. “Me too. We should fuck about it,” Y/N said sluttily.
September 2, 2025 at 5:33 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
sorry I forgot to check my strawpage until now. you can crosspost it with credit or censored, I don't particularly mind either way lol
August 24, 2025 at 2:29 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
have a wip that I hope I'll be able to see through. wol/aymeric pre-vault religious guilt. #wolaymeric #nautwrites
Hail Fury, full of grace," Aymeric whispers as the rosary clicks through his fingers. The air in the Vault is perfumed with wood oil, incense, and ancient dust, a miasma that is as comforting and familiar as the kneeler beneath his knees. Since he was a babe, his mother and father took him to the Vault to pray, helped him flip through the thin pages of the Enchiridon, following along in their hymnals. Close your eyes. That’s a lad, just like that. No, child, you don’t have to speak. The Fury will hear you anywhere, no matter where you go. "Grant me the strength to face my enemies headlong." He counts each virtue. "Grant me the determination to see this battle through to its bloodied end." He presses his lips to his clenched palms. "Grant me the conviction to speak the truth." His shoulders heave with terrible breath. "Fury, grant me your forgiveness, for my iniquity and deceit." Ever since he was a squire, when the Fury's precepts became inviolable in his mind, Aymeric feels sin like a living weight, each terrible onze weighing inside his breast, dragging him down into the earth, further and further away from the Fury's grace. The terrible weight of him felt as if it could shatter the flagstones beneath his knees, as if his armor were leadened, pinioning him into the earth itself. When that terrible weight grew too much for him to bear, there was only one salve a virtuous man may find forgiveness—in the dark comfort of the confessional, his sins laid bare before the anonymous clergyman on the other side. In the terrible suffocating silence of the Vault, Aymeric must lay his confessions bare. He looks up into the Vault’s rose, sanguine light streaming down upon his uplifted face, to the stone bust of Halone, her winged helmet, the steely slits of her eyes, terrible and righteous. Was he guilty too of heresy, to admit he has seen the Fury’s gaze in one another woman, an unbeliever by her own admission, a heretic by the inquisition’s own decree?
August 21, 2025 at 8:52 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
the junji ito x hobonichi collab has me like
August 17, 2025 at 12:28 AM
papernautilus.bsky.social
if lilith was a hobonichi, this would be it. guess i'll be fighting for my life to get one 😭
August 17, 2025 at 12:24 AM
papernautilus.bsky.social
LOOK AT US TWO VERY NORMAL PEOPLE
August 14, 2025 at 9:04 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
oh baby, i will be your father figure. 🤫
@mochamorii.bsky.social said "I think it's hot if he crops her and then makes her hold it while he continues" and i frankly blacked out.
snippet feat. dom!exarch/vague f!wol, bdsm, flogging, impact play. the classics.
The flogger's tails drift over the raised gooseflesh of your exposed backside. The Crystal Exarch's chilled hand braces your lower back. You desperately grip the hem of his robes, burying your face into the fabric, inhaling deep the scent of burned aether and parchment. You moan as the flogger twitches; not enough to strike, but your breath hitches all the same in anticipation as the leather strands tease and tickle your sensitive flesh. "You are entirely certain this is what you want?" he asks with maddening calm. He wants you to admit it to him; it is somehow more humiliating than your current position, splayed naked across his lap upon the dais of Xande's throne room. "Yes," you whisper into his robes. His icy-cool hand shivers up your fevered skin, coiling easily around the nape of your neck. "Forgive me, but I would like to hear it with greater conviction." He does not laugh, but you could hear the smile in his voice. You raise your head. "Please," you moan, reflexively squeezing your thighs together. The Exarch knots his fingers in your mussed hair, and the flogger strikes. The leather straps send a thousand little sparkling points of pain across your flesh, burning down into glowing embers of warmth. And then he smooths his crystal hand over the inflamed flesh, soothing the burn before the lash falls again. Over and over he strikes, favoring the underside of your cheeks, between your thighs. You jump and jolt and whimper at each strike. Once, he twitches right upon your weeping cunt, and you arch upwards, sobbing and drooling into his bunched robes as you feverishly hump the air in a paroxysm of sheer need. He murmurs with concern, cradling your cheek, the leather straps of his gauntlets reminding you all too much of the flogger rending such exquisite torture unto you. "O my long-suffering warrior," he sighs. "You must have needed this for moons." He swipes two fingers between the seam of your cunt, and you wail into his robes, soiling them with both He clicks his tongue, tilting up your chin until you meet his hooded gaze. His smile is eternally patient. "I suppose," he says, "if you can be well-behaved, there might be somewhat to be done about that." he taps a finger to your quivering cunt for emphasis; you nearly scream through your teeth. He presses the handle of the flogger into your clenched fists. "Hold this for me." So desperate for release, you do not question him, gripping the leather-padded wood with both hands. The flogger is well made, the oiled leather creaking very slightly in your grip. He slides an icy finger--the crystal, with its faceted ridges--between your labia, spreading you wide for his examination, moving with methodical, maddening slowness. As if perusing the index of a book before reading the prologue. Your thighs tremble as he dips his finger just inside your entrance. Your muscles suck him inside eagerly to the first knuckle; no, that won't do. He retreats, fingers dancing just between your labia, dragging upwards for one sparkling instant to circle your swollen clit. You wail with utter indignation into his finely gilded robes; the Exarch slides his finger all the way inside of your cunt. Reflexively, you drop the flogger to the floor with a clatter, holding tight to his muscled thighs and calf. The Exarch retreats entirely, and his hand braces the back of your neck. "Pick it up," he says. He does not demand, but the ringing of authority in his voice shimmers in your mind. You are still stunned from the loss of his touch, your mind's edges frayed through the pleasure and pain and worse, the denial of either. "Please," you find yourself begging. "I need to--please--" "Pick it up and hold it," the Exarch commands gently. "I need you to focus for me. Can you do that?" He reaches down for you, retrieving it from the floor and pressing it back into your empty hands. "If you are very good," he promises, "you'll have your release. Or," and his icy crystalline hand taps your ass…
August 14, 2025 at 8:55 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
the rest of it is a lofi playlist I accidentally kept playing for 12 hours
August 13, 2025 at 5:19 PM
papernautilus.bsky.social
if you guys don't commission mocha i don't know what you're doing!!! this scene is from a longfic I wrote a million years ago. reeling, insane, feverish, foaming at the mouth, etc. archiveofourown.org/works/274738...
“Say my name,” he demands. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself; he quickens his pace, wrist cramping with the effort. “I—I don’t know—Exarch—“ “Say it,” his voice is low, desperate, pleading with her. There was a power in names. Name him and end this. Name him and end the game, end this pathetic charade they were so damnably determined to continue. He wanted his name to fall off her lips, to break this spell. He digs the knife in harder at her throat. If she was any more sensible, she’d have known in this moment it was a ploy. “Say it, Warrior of Light.” “I don’t know it!” she sobs, and even still her hips buck forward into his hand, brows furrowing with confusion, delirium. She was close; he could feel her tightening around him, the sweet breathy whine of her voice. “I don’t…ahh… I don’t… know…” And just as he feels the tide of her break around him, she speaks. Under her breath, so soft he nearly misses it, she pleads. “Raha.” The universe halts in place. Time suspends. And a thrum of coldest terror shudders through his blood.
August 13, 2025 at 1:50 AM