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Would you please hold me like it's our last day?...

So yeah never will post or finish the kloktober probably but here's one I liked, it's Murderface and Danny (yeah my self insert, he's like a Trindle for Murderface)

Bonus doodles 😊

#danny #berteder0 #art

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MTL OC !!

Here’s m’y Metalocalypse OC !! Lore is in the first pic !!

#bastian kitzler #raddouchebag #art #bio

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Single dad nategaar au???

#mickey explosion #m3gahet #art #bio #fankid

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Momento Mori Update

Chapter 18 - Sizzling Relish - Pt 1

Chapter Summary:

Smut, smut, and more smut!

Pickles and Olive have finally made up! And the best part of making up? Why, the make up sex, of course!

Part One of Two 😉 see the AO3 notes for more details. And as always, let me know your thoughts! ❤️🩷

Just realized I forgot to add the tag list! Tagging now

Tagging: @meefy @a-dope-fiend @gointothevvater @chordsykat @sparklecinnamonbunny @you-are-forever-special @marsklok @ogurizz @the-loveliest-lotus @pan-flute-skeleton @ir0n-moon @inky-da-dinky @sichore @claudia-nomusaabara @procrazedfan @amazonboatchurch

If you would like to be added or removed from the tagging list, please let me know!

#olive axworthy #momento mori #thatwritingho #fanfic

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the most dedicated klokateer

#555 #dotssu3 #art

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Cuck Chair II

This one features @thatwritingho's lovely Olive, my own St. Cecilia, and Charles, who likes to watch 🖤 Super filth under the cut!

.

"You like this, don't you, love?" St. Cecilia's voice was low and smoky, her golden eyes half-lidded and dark with want. She had the palm of her left hand resting flat against Olive's throat while the right busied itself between Olive's legs, guitar-calloused fingers idly circling her clit.

All Olive could manage was a nod.

St. Cecilia's eyes rolled, though her smirk never faltered. "Use your words," she said. "You're too smart to act this stupid."

Though it took a few tries to untangle her tongue, Olive meekly said, "I like this."

"Good girl." In one smooth motion, St. Cecilia slid her fingers down and into Olive's needy little pussy, all the way to the hilt.

Olive shuddered hard, turning her head to the side and squeezing her eyes shut. The pillow smelled of Charles's expensive cologne.

He sat in a leather armchair off to the side of the room, one leg crossed over the other, his elbow on the armrest, his chin pillowed in his hand. His eyes were dark, but he showed no other sign of interest, distant and professional as always.

St. Cecilia seemed to sense Olive's attention drifting from her, and her fingers curled, brushing her fingertips against the spot she knew felt best. Beneath her, Olive keened, her back arching high and tight at the sensation. "There we are," St. Cecilia purred. "You were made for this, weren't you?"

Olive shivered, forcing herself to meet St. Cecilia's gaze and saying, more whimper than word, "Yes."

"Of course you do." St. Cecilia's fingers pressed in deeper, her strokes coming hard and fast. "You know what you are, don't you, love? You're nothing more than a pretty little cunt waiting to be filled."

And that was enough. Olive burst.

There was a moment of hesitation, just a beat of it while Olive's face flushed even hotter and her heart clenched. Squirting didn't always get the best reception.

And then St. Cecilia gave a startled little laugh. She said, "Well, goddamn." She slid her fingers free of Olive's dripping pussy, lifting them to examine the wetness clinging to her. She leaned forward, bringing them to Olive's mouth and saying, "Help me with this, yeah?"

Olive dutifully opened her mouth, whimpering around the other woman's fingers.

"I'll have you know I filed down two of my nails for this," St. Cecilia said, the laughter hanging onto the edges of her voice. "I expect you to pay for my next manicure."

From across the room, Charles stifled a laugh.

#st. cecilia jameson #gointothevvater #olive axworthy #thatwritingho #writing

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Olive's Role in The Prophecy

This is playing off of the Tribunal scene from chapter 15 of Momento Mori, where they were referring to her as "The Slut"

Cue the Prophecy Scene

The boys find out about their roles.

Ishnifus now goes on and on for a comically long time about how Olive’s role is ensuring the band’s safety and health, keeping them from harm, encouraging them down a path of healing, being their mind and a wealth of knowledge and resources, etc.

Then when he says her title, it's just… The Wench

…because of course a salty man came up with the prophecy names.

Olive: "Um... Ok. But why is that the title?" Ishnifus, looking nervous: "…well, it.. it is prophesied that The Wench spreads her legs for each ma-" Olive: "Ok yeah sure. But what about all the other more important things you just said? Like keeping them alive for starters?" Ishnifus: "Well, some might argue that, of greater value than one’s own life, is having a warm puss-" Olive: "CHARLES! GET YOUR FRIEND."

The guys and Charles are just standing there like this the whole time:

#olive axworthy #thatwiringho #momento mori #writing

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Kloktober Day 6

Comedy or Tragedy

Pairing: Relish

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: High sex

Summary:

This is based on a question, and subsequent jokes, when discussing pet names between Relish on discord...

"But does she ever call him just 'Dill?'" - @chordsykat

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Freckled hands grasped at thick thighs, shoving them up and apart, spreading them nice and wide for a better view of the bright purple toy plunging in and out of her soaked hole. With a breathy moan, Olive tossed her head back onto the mattress, gasping at the new angle as she grasped at fistfuls of the black satin sheets.

"Fuck, Dill!"

Pierced brows furrowed in confusion.

Did she just call me another dood’s name?

Ugh. That was… unpleasant. But, they had finished two back to back joints right before this, and he could tell from the way her pupils were dilating that the oxy was starting to hit, too, so… whatever. She’s high as hell. Slips happen.

It’s fine.

Shaking it off, Pickles gently teased his nails over the soft skin of her inner thighs before gripping them hard, snapping his hips to hers and grinding. This toy was one of his bigger ones, and Olive keened a moan as Pickles fucked it deep inside her wet, wanting heat. Her thighs trembled in his hands as it stretched her deliciously, hit spots seldom stimulated, leaving her feeling simultaneously filled to the brim while still achingly empty — because, after all, despite the plug in her ass and the cock in her pussy… he had yet to fill her mouth.

Pickles grinned a crooked grin as she quivered and squirmed under him, staring with appreciation as her tits jiggled with his motions, the chain connecting her nipples shining against her skin. A single finger tugging at the silver had the room filled with her whines, her hips rocking hard into his as she arched herself from the bed.

"Heh, yeah… yeh like that, baby?"

"Fuck yes, Dill! Ahhh– feels so good… wanna suck your fingers, pretty, pretty please?"

Jesus, she really thinks I'm someone else?

The thought left a bad taste in his mouth, yet he began the rhythm of his hips once more as Olive buried her hands in her hair, face flushed and lashes fluttering as she panted out cute little whimpers and whines and curses, still begging him to fingerfuck her mouth. He tugged the chain just a little harder.

Whatever. It’s fine.

At least he has some eye candy.

Wanting to unravel her further — and to stroke his own ego a bit — Pickles dropped the cool metal back to her ribs in favor of thumbing at her clit, relishing in the way she begged please fuck please please need you so bad Dill please–

Scowling, Pickles had had enough.

Who the fuck does she even know named Dill?

With the intention of giving her what she wanted, of stuffing his fingers in her mouth to shut her up til they were finished, Pickles reached out, stopping short as green eyes widened. Hips faltered in their rhythm so hard the toy popped out, Olive left whining as it rubbed across her clit, smearing wetness over her skin.

Heat rushed to Pickles’ face, flaring across his cheekbones all the way to his ears.

"Nehh?"

His outstretched hand retracted as if burned, raising in an attempt to hide his reddened face as dark, glazed eyes gazed up at him in question.

Blinking at him as her fucked out, floating, tingly brain attempted to catch up, Olive could only manage a "Huh?"

“Wh-what did yew say?”

“Um… when?”

"Jest now. Wh-what did yew jest call me?"

Furrowing her brow at his strange behavior, Olive managed to shift her sluggish, jellied limbs, propping herself up on her elbows. Pickles' blush only worsened as she cocked her head at him cutely, the chain from her clamped nipples hanging just enough to sway with her every breath.

"Yew– jest now, while we've been– yeh were callin' me…"

"...Dill?"

"Y–yeah," Pickles practically squeaked his confirmation, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

A wicked little grin curled up Olive's lips as she lifted a hand to swat away his own, caressing softly over his flushed cheek — hot to the touch and so, so cute. Tingles shot through his limbs as she tilted his chin with thumb and index finger, his breath hitching, pulse racing as she stared him down.

"Mm, yeah? You like that… Dill?"

#olive axworthy #thatwritingho #momento mori #fanfic

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Hope yr ready for another mtl oc, Goldie's older sister Juno!

she's a messy mean bitch and the two of them do NOT get along lol

#juno #thr0athugs #art

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I blame @thatwritingho and @the-loveliest-lotus for this 🖤

After all is said and done and the Church of the Black Klok stands empty, Charles bends St. Cecilia over the altar for a little worship. He's got her stripped down to nothing, her bare skin pressed to chilly wood, but he's fully decked out in his priestly robes, pressed up against her back so his medallion hangs between them. It raises goosebumps along her skin anytime it touches her. He has one hand threaded into her hair, the other on her hip as his mouth wanders her neck. She has her hands on the edge of the altar, her eyes squeezed shut, her voice coming in soft little gasps and whimpers. She's a saint, his saint, his salvation, and the light coming in through the stained glass windows tints her silvery hair red, turns her golden skin the color of blood. This, Charles thinks as he presses his forehead to her shoulder, head bowed as if in prayer as he spills himself inside her and she trembles around him, is as close to holy as either of them are going to get.

#st. cecilia jameson #gointothevvater #writing

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The babies met at a thrift store lol

@thatwritingho and my ocs :>

(( Olive Axworthy belongs to Kay

Sunni Daye belongs to me.))

#sunni daye #gibbouschild #olive axworthy #thatwritingho #art

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Kloktober Day 17

Give someone a brand new look

Neighboring Jars

Summary: Pickles the Drummer and Olive Axworthy, but 80's. A backstage encounter between the Snakes N' Barrels front man and an off duty paramedic. Nothing is more romantic than getting puked on — except, perhaps, a pun-based pickup line Warnings: -Mild overdose ('mild' because Pickles' tolerance is what it is) -Vomit

He felt like a god.

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration.

A king, perhaps? Yeah, that sounded better, more fitting. A self made king, but a little more. Like King Arthur, the last story he paid attention to in English class before skipping town. He was destined for greatness, not born into it. Just a lowly little squire boy until he plucked the sword from the stone — until he bought that Goldtop on the bus ride to L.A.

Now here he was, four years later and king of the fucking world with a mane of big, wild red hair for a crown, addressing his adoring populace who hung on his every word, who ripped each other apart to get closer to him.

Backstage, the drugs were exquisite, the liquor top shelf, the groupies like models in their skin-tight, barely-there clothes. And what kind of royalty didn't indulge in the riches of their kingdom? So he popped pills he didn't know the names of, drank anything handed to him, whispered utter filth into the ears of picture-perfect women before snorting lines off their picture-perfect tits, riding the high of the show as his bandmates did the same.

He went too hard, even for himself.

And then his back met the floor, the track lighting twinkling above his head nauseating as he convulsed, mouth foaming, his consciousness fuzzing.

And then a girl.

Keep reading on AO3

#olive axworthy #neighboring jars #thatwritingho #writing #kloktober

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seonag doodle

#seonag tallach #fishklok #art

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cringe fun metalocalypse oc who i made to solely ship w nathan. cope

#unnamed #beetlelunch #art

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We got some collab action for you guys, tonight! A commission for @pan-flute-skeleton in celebration of Klokktober and the spoopy month! :)

Here's her girl Vivi as Peter Pan, tippy-toe kissing her boyfriend... Tinkergaar XD

In case you missed me posting it a literal minute ago, you can read all about it, right here in this one-shot:

And as an extra bonus, freckle-leg Vivi alternate version is under the cut! :9

#vivi skårsgard #pan-flute-skeleton #chordsykat #art

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dethklok and RABIES interactions!!

ughhhh finally i drew all of them together @_@ here's sum oc and canon interactions bc uhhhhh idk im still developing plot llfmadfaldfksl. old men mentors gen z idot kids.

#rabies #milobat #art

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porn star

Just a little sub Ceelie, dedicated to the Discord server that inspired it! Thus tagging @chordsykat, @thatwritingho, and @the-loveliest-lotus 🖤

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She sounded like a porn star.

It wasn't a bad thing, necessarily, but it wasn't real. It wasn't her, and Charles wanted her.

Her pornographic moan cut off in a whimpering gasp when he tugged on her ponytail, pulling her head back so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. "None of that," he said, and was surprised by how low and rough his voice sounded. They shared a shiver at the sound of it.

"None of what?" St. Cecilia's golden eyes were blown dark, her cheeks beautifully flushed, her pretty lips parted and kiss-swollen.

"None of the acting," he said, doing his best to keep his gaze locked with hers. With all that golden skin on display, though, tattoos and piercings scattered like stars across her body, it was easier said than done. "I don't want a performance," he said, "I want you. Is that understood?"

Charles didn't know how it was possible, but St. Cecilia was suddenly even more wanting. That particular tone of voice always got to her. As in control as she was during her day-to-day life, being spoken to like this was a thrill. "Yes," she said. He raised a brow at her, and she quickly amended, "Yes, sir."

When he leaned in to kiss her, the way she sighed into his mouth was real.

#st. cecilia jameson #gointothevvater #writing