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fandomfluffandfuck · 5 months

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ohhh my god steve wrecking his lil self because he can't help himself, can he? 🥵 🥵🥵 his cock being so big that you can see the shape of it on steve's belly? the way his hands can wrap around him so easily? i completely understand the urge to mess himself up like that 🥴🥴🥴 also damn, the fleshlight description?? knocked me tf out omgggg

i'm in loveeee, imagine if bucky walked in on this scene, smol!steve would be in so much trouble... 👿

(mwah chefs kiss mr s, thank u for the horny selfcest thots 💗)

related to this

I'm so glad you enjoyed that little drabble!

The fleshlight part was my favorite to write 😏 I was just imagining nomad Steve towering over his younger self, all rough edges, bearded, and thick. The bigger man is growling and handsy--feral, really. He's on the very cusp of being too fucking demanding and pushy 'cause he knows exactly how far he can bend his younger self before he breaks him.

Christ, maybe he wants to break him.

He feels his lust so hot and thick in his veins; he's out of his mind for consuming his younger self, swallowing him whole. Well, swallowing maybe later, his younger self's dick is the perfect mouthful--not throatful, mouthful--and he might as well take advantage of it. It's so easy to take all of him, overwhelm him.

But, fuck yeah, bigger, broader, hairier, and more deranged nomad Steve using his younger self like a fleshlight. Digging his paws into his lithe hips and dragging him down onto his cock, forcing him to take it deep until he's choking on it. It's bulging his tummy, and he swears he can taste it in the back of his throat. Younger Steve doesn't want to admit weakness, but there's only so long until he can't help it. At first, he's quiet, only letting out little grunts and bitten off groans, but as nomad Steve grabs and hauls him back and forth, using his slim body so thoroughly, fucking him for his own pleasure... younger Steve cracks, he whines.

The next whine builds into something choking and embarrassing, his eyes watering with the fullness, the pressure. He feels like he's going to burst at the seams with cock. It's already too much, it's too good, it can't get better but it does. Devastatingly, it does.

Nomad Steve was plowing him standing at the edge of the bed, not thrusting into him but rather dragging his younger self back onto his cock, statue still while younger Steve gasped from the friction-burn heat all over his crooked back but suddenly he is moving. He's picking little Steve up and holding him on his dick like he weighs nothing. And he doesn't. He doesn't weigh anything. The only thing left is sensation--the heavy, thick sensation of nomad Steve's cock shoved impossibly deep inside him. Deep. Deeper when nomad Steve kneels on the bed, spreading his tree-trunk thighs and sprawling his younger self across them, his thin legs loosely thrown around his muscled waist and drags him up.

Impaling him.

Spearing him.

Fucking him deep, making his body squelch. He feels like a toy. He doesn't need to do anything, he needn't move, he just, just... he just lays there, neck limp, mouth open, choking, his arms spread wide, hands twitching in loose fists, gasping harshly, while nomad Steve squeezes at and takes hold of him. Younger Steve isn't even sure nomad Steve is trying to make him orgasm, he's pulling him back onto his cock like he's just selfishly trying to get himself to cum. It's like younger Steve doesn't matter. He doesn't. He's just the toy. Just there to be used, tight and wet and a means to an end.

Guh.

He's a fleshlight. A little doll. A toy.

Oh my fucking god, don't get me started on what would happen if Bucky walked in! Charming, golden, boyish Bucky from before the war confronted with brick shithouse Rogers? He wouldn't know what to do with himself. He's not used to feeling like a twink, but next to this version of Steve? God, I think he'd be squirming and panting, eying the treatment his Stevie's getting and begging for the next ride.

Use him, too! Fuck. Use him, fuck him, and put his Stevie on his dick while it happens--Bucky on his back, taking it from nomad Steve missionary style with younger Steve between them, the filling in the sloppy sandwich--they'll be a pile of mush underneath big man Rogers. Whining and whimpering while he grabs and takes, grunting, biting, and sweating as he works them both over 😮‍💨😮‍💨

(Thank you for enjoying! I've been in a sort of funk with some of the last few writings I've done here and what's happening with my next fic, I feel like they haven't been good at all, so it's nice to hear otherwise, lol)

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #steve rogers #selfcest #steve x steve #stucky #bucky barnes

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crocusclan--official · 1 month

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Crocusclan Lineup, Moon 0!

Please let me know what you guys think of the format and the art I made! I'll be going through our founding members here and then ending on our Starclan guide!

My problematic baby boy!!

Smokestar is one of the only cats who actually has a dislike bar, so he doesn't like Flintkit much at all, but everycat else just has a lower or empty like bar in the worst relationships section!

First new reveal, our deputy Shadednose!

One of our only two molly's in the clan!

Our Med Cat, Magpieheart! Our other molly in the clan!

She is kinda old so I hope one of the kits becomes her apprentice!

Our only warrior Teaselquiver!

Yes, he did generate with the paw scars, so my headcannon is that he is a former kittypet they recruited after his old barn set on fire and he helped them form Crocusclan!

Crestpaw is here!

I am really excited for him to become a warrior soon, his design is sooo pretty!

Emberpaw, our second all white cat.

I have decided he is Teaselquiver's son and their genetics are similar enough in game that making them related probably won't make any issues in the future.

Flintkit is our only longfurred cat!

In game they say he is tiny for a cat and i thought that was just a kit thing but the younger kit in our clan is marked as bigger, so he will be a smol boi his whole liffe most likely!

Bonekit!

He looks like a Barn owl to me so I really really hope when he gets older he passes down the pattern.

Finally, our Starclan Guide, Tricklestripe!

She is the one who gave Smokestar his lives, but I think she was very reluctant to do so.

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#original art #digital art #erin hunter warriors #warrior cats #warriors oc #clangen #tricklestripe #smokestar #shadednose #Magpieheart #Teaselquiver #Crestpaw #Emberpaw #Flintkit #Bonekit #artists on tumblr

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concussed-to-pieces · 11 months

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Wolves At The Door; Part Five

Fandom: Resident Evil [Village]

Pairing: Eventual Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: You were in too good a mood to argue, simply nodding in agreement. "Very true, I'm lucky to have you." Karl huffily looked away, cramming the rest of the bread into his mouth.

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our fifth installment! Enjoy!

Tag List: @cookiethewriter @amneris21 @topgirl17 @vodkafolie @a-smol-witch @clockworkmidnight @calwitch @silver-quinn01 @velvet-paradox @hijackser @mrs-wolfwood @nonstop-haikyuu @mic-sunderland @somethingthatsaysbubbles @fullofmoonsandstars @stargazerofgoldenwords @imthegreenfairy86 @karlskitten @nitrogennightmare @chunnies @thirstworldproblemsss @highly-unknown @tartimaar-bloggeth @thesmartbiscuit @spoopyredacted @crowtrobotx @kotall-ohh

Prelude

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains canon-typical violence, a sustained period of a small animal in peril and vague mentions of preparing an animal to be eaten. Stay safe!]

"Quit struggling." Karl muttered, knowing even as he did that it was pointless. It wasn't as if the trapped rabbit understood him. The small animal instead continued to thrash desperately in the snare, emitting the occasional panicky squeak while the man approached.

It finally went still when Heisenberg's shadow fell over it, its side rising and falling rapidly as it laid there exhausted. Karl's eyes half-lidded, the former Lord observing the tiny body and weighing it mentally. One rabbit wasn't ever enough for him to begin with, but even taking that into consideration, this was a small rabbit. Barely more than a kit, he reasoned grudgingly.

He was being an idiot. Meat didn't grow on trees. You would be grateful. He should-

Karl knelt where he was, focusing his attention on the metal ring holding the snare loop tight. The ring parted easily, slacking the line. "Go on, beat it." He grunted.

The rabbit remained still, one large eye fixed on him in terror. Its nose twitched wildly. Heisenberg curled a finger and the loop slid fully off the rabbit's rear paw, skittering along the ground by the metal hardware. The rattle of the cable seemed to break the trance the rabbit had been in, because it bolted upright (nearly three feet up!) and bounded off into the underbrush.

Karl shook his head at himself, rising and going to reset the snare. "Come back next year!" He called after the long-gone animal, "once you've gotten nice and fat and you're worth the goddamn hassle!"

That settled, he sighed and shoved his hat backwards on his head, absently scratching his scalp as he stood there. This was the third snare he'd checked and the only one that even had anything in it. Obviously the increased lycan presence in the area had spooked the local wildlife. Hopefully the thorough routing of the monsters would be enough to bring things back to normal, but winter was coming and the two of you would have to deal with less resources regardless.

Two of you. Karl shook his head again, irritated. "You're being a fucking idiot." He said aloud. "A real fucking idiot. You're biting the hand as hard as you can. Stop being so damn greedy." Feeling quite dejected despite the crisp autumn air and cheery sunlight, the man huffed, "All that fucking ambition really did you some good, huh? All that drive and ego. Now you can't even bag some dinner without a moral dilemma. Unbelievable."

He shook himself all over, trying to dismiss the thoughts that were plaguing him with the motion. He would check the last snare and be done with it. At some point along the way he would really need to straighten this out. It was getting to the point where it was effecting you, which he absolutely didn't want.

Karl leaned against a tree trunk, scrubbing his hands over his face. Gods he was just tired. Tired of thinking. Exhausted in general. His head hurt, his body ached. For a foolish second he wondered if he had come down with a cold.

Stupid, you don't get sick. Annoyed with everything, Heisenberg spotted the last snare marker and stomped forward through the fallen leaves and detritus on the forest floor. Lo and behold, it too was empty.

Karl was so incredibly fed up he didn't even bother adjusting the snare, he just turned and left. Muttering under his breath, snarling when a root caught the toe of his boot and nearly sent him sprawling, the former Lord was almost too busy feeling sorry for himself to notice the faintly-sweet scent in the air.

Almost.

Karl paused, inhaling deeply. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. Somewhere deep in his past there was the faint memory of a fresh pie on a windowsill, and a young child that may have been him burning his fingers and mouth with greedy handfuls of crispy pastry and molten filling. It had been rich, almost syrupy, hued a crimson-purple that stained every fingertip dark and left no doubt as to who may have pilfered the dessert ahead of dinner.

He'd always been greedy, especially when it came to things he shouldn't have.

The man approached the cabin a bit quicker now, his dour mood waning. He should apologize for his earlier behavior, he decided, entirely spur of the moment. He was good at apologizing, and even better at pretending that he meant it. It would be easy.

Maybe he might actually mean it, too.

Heisenberg opened the gate, closing it behind him and then shifting into an undignified, loping trot. Hopefully you weren't near the windows. To know that he was so simply bought off with a delicious baked good didn't bode well for his intimidating reputation.

Up the stairs to the small porch, his hat swept off in some odd echo of manners he vaguely remembered employing once, Karl cautiously turned the knob on the door and let himself in.

You were sweeping the floor by the stove, some ash still scattered around. You looked up at the sound of the door, giving the man a little wave. Karl was perturbed to discover that his voice had vanished. He finally managed a strained, "nothin' in the traps," grunting when you reminded him to take his boots off at the door.

"Don't worry about the snares. I figured with all the commotion, meat would be scarce." You continued, your shoulders drooping a little. "Still, that means I'll have less bartering power when I do my supply run. Though I have gotten more done with your help. I guess it evens out."

Heisenberg paused, his left boot still half-on. "'Supply run'?" He echoed, confused.

"Yeah, every year after the first snow." You rested the broom against your shoulder, ticking off a list on your fingers. "I get evaporated milk, flour, sugar, the usual stuff."

Oh. Oh. Karl realized he was an idiot. Where the hell did he think your flour came from? Or the salt and pepper, or any of the other spices you used for that matter? The man barely resisted the urge to slap his own forehead, instead mumbling something non-committal.

"I'm a little leaner in the stores this year due to your company, so I really have to pay attention if I want to make my supplies last until the snow comes." You shook your head. "I ought to be grateful that a few people still humor me when it comes to not having-" you moved your fingers strangely, holding up two digits on each hand and then bending them up and down. "-legal tender."

"What the hell are you doing with your hands?" Karl asked, thoroughly confused.

You blinked at him, then glanced at your right hand as your mouth formed into an 'o'. "It's a common gesture, it, uh, implies quotes around what the person is saying? It's called air-quotes."

Heisenberg narrowed his eyes but ultimately left it alone, the man simply continuing to wrestle off his left boot. "So, sugar," he attempted to change the subject. "I don't suppose you have any idea what that delicious smell is?"

"Cake!" You replied, your excitement palpable. "Plum cake. It's still cooling though. I figure we can have dinner and then enjoy some."

Dinner was, as always, straightforward and tasty. You had a real knack for turning chanterelles and the last of the tomatoes into something Karl would dare to call edible, especially when you beefed them up with some chicken of the woods or other forage. He had certainly consumed more mushrooms in the time he spent with you than previously in his life, but aside from the occasionally-rubbery texture he didn't find much to complain about. Besides, there was always hearty bread with a precious bit of fat and salt to add a touch of decadence to his meals.

Gods, he really was a simple individual. To think, before he had had the power to take whatever he wanted. He could just…take it. Hell, he had! Lives, food, positions of authority, it had all been his.

And none of it had given him the frankly asinine level of satisfaction that he felt right now sitting at your table, wolfing down his helping of mushroom stew and using a piece of bread to soak up the dregs at the bottom of the bowl. None of it had warmed him like you scolding him good-naturedly to 'slow down, no one's going to take it from you!', your laughter burrowing between his ribs to prod his heart.

He was in some real, deep trouble here.

You cut Karl a slice of cake and watched like a hawk as he took the first bite, obviously waiting for his reaction. He barely tasted the treat on his tongue, too focused on how precious you looked, your eyes only for him. If nothing else, he appreciated the ego boost. "S'good." He mumbled around a second mouthful, the relieved smile he got in return one he wanted to see more of. He even managed to choke out a crumb-laden "thank you," much to your evident delight.

Indebted. Not quite. Not like that anymore. But absolutely, undeniably greedy.

…

Over the colder days that came, you spent most of your time preserving the remaining harvests from your fruit trees. Karl kept the stove well-supplied with firewood and drawing properly, and you were actually able to get far more done than usual. Between your preserves and the multitude of small animal pelts you had tanned and smoked over the course of a year, you hoped to have a decent go of it when it came to refreshing your supplies.

You certainly needed it. Karl couldn't help the amount that he ate and you didn't begrudge him, but the weeks were getting leaner and every day you woke up without snow on the ground was another day the two of you dealt with a bit less for dinner. It had always been difficult around this time of year for you even while you were alone, as you battled to justify eating the preserves you were attempting to save for bartering.

Most meals at this point were some variance on mushroom stew with the last of your rice, and your flour stores were growing worryingly low. The two of you seemed to go through a loaf within three days, so at least you didn't have to worry about the bread molding! You could tell Karl was growing weary of the repetitive diet but he appeared to be trying to hide that fact, and you appreciated the effort if nothing else.

In a real stroke of luck, Heisenberg ended up braining a young boar that wandered too close to the fenceline in search of fallen apples, and after a long day's work you and the former Lord feasted like kings. Karl finally got his boar and, while you had no pumpernickel on hand, your regular thick slices of bread were graced with delicious rendered fat and a hearty helping of salt.

"I'm relieved!" You sighed that evening, watching Karl dig through some bones that you had set aside to boil for stock. "I was kind of worried we wouldn't make it to the snowfall, but we should be able to coast safely now."

The man selected a larger bone, easily cracking it open and then scooping out the marrow with your lone butter knife. He then proceeded to spread the marrow on a piece of bread, tucking into his treat with a groan of contentment. Karl waved the remainder of the slice at you, the offer plain, but you declined. You were already absolutely stuffed, sleepy and warm.

You closed your eyes, basking in the peaceful glow of the stove. You heard Karl swallow, then clear his throat.

"How long does the trip usually take?"

You didn't bother opening your eyes, offering up your usual shrug. "Four days, round trip? Sometimes five. Depends on what I'm lugging and how the snow is."

"What, so you camp in snow?" He sounded incredulous.

"Yeah. There's a lean-to built at…around the halfway point I'd say. It's mostly stone too, so not a lot of upkeep. Sometimes I have to patch up the roof, but that's a small price to pay for someplace out of the elements."

"Unbelievable."

You cracked an eye open to give him a look. "The guy that can move metal with his mind is really going to sass me about camping in a lean-to?"

"Look, it's not with my mind, sugar, it's with some kinda' organ, like-"

"Yeah yeah, an electric eel. I remember." You teased, grinning while he sulkily took another bite of his bread. "Fancy stuff."

"You oughta' be more grateful for my 'fancy stuff', without it we'd be sitting here eating nothing but the last of that watery mushroom stew and some bread!" Heisenberg shot back, obviously annoyed with your ribbing.

You were in too good a mood to argue, simply nodding in agreement. "Very true, I'm lucky to have you." Karl huffily looked away, cramming the rest of the bread into his mouth. "I know pickings have been slim recently, and if I was feeling the pinch you definitely were too. You handled it like a champ, though!" You praised, entertained by how flushed he had gotten.

"Ain't exactly the first time I've been hungry, sugar." Karl grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. His attitude seemed to have shifted to pleased, even though he was still trying to act irritated. His next question, then, was a little surprising. "Will you…want someone to come with you on the trip for supplies?"

You hadn't actually thought about it, but the idea of having an extra body to help move supplies was extremely appealing. "If you'd like?" You said slowly, trying to act nonchalant. "It's not a hard run, it's pretty flat for most of the way. I'll have to see if there's another pair of skis or snowshoes around here though, otherwise it'll be pretty slow going for you."

The man waved a hand dismissively. "I can whip something up if I need to, I'm not too concerned about that." He paused, and then reasoned, "besides, it's only fair that I come along. I'm responsible for practically eating you out of house and home."

"Yes but you have also been incredibly helpful." You pointed out. "Thanks to your tinkering, that old stove hasn't given me any more trouble, which means I've gotten so much more preserving done than I would normally! I usually end up with some spoiled produce to send to the compost pile, but I actually stayed on top of it this season."

"You don't have to butter me up, sugar, I already asked to go." Karl mumbled, seeming downright bashful.

"I'm not buttering you up! I'm being genuine. You're capable and I appreciate the extra hands." You insisted with a laugh. "Why would I lie?"

"I…I guess you wouldn't, would you."

…

It was several days later that Karl sat out on the porch steps, looking up at the sky. You had woken up that day proclaiming it smelled like snow and he had to admit, it seemed you may be correct. There was that odd quality to the air, and the clouds had grown thick right before sundown.

You were fairly buzzing with excitement the entire day. Digging out an ancient set of skis from a long box beneath your couch, locating a large frame backpack from your spartan closet, assembling small crates to safely hold your preserve jars during the journey. The star of the show, however, was an old sled that had absolutely been military surplus. It was covered in olive drab canvas and had an odd scent to it that made Karl's nose twitch.

"Isn't it a beaut?" You had asked proudly, and who was he to deny what you clearly believed to be truth?

The last of the preserved boar was tucked safely into your enormous backpack along with the rest of the supplies the two of you may need for the short journey, such as a mess kit, plenty of matches in their special jar to keep them dry and two well-worn down sleeping bags.

"It's like waiting for Christmas."

Karl jumped a little, startled by your voice. He had been so deep in thought he hadn't heard you approaching. "Not quite, I don't think." He replied, giving you a quick grin.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, drumming on them absently as you peered upwards. The man barely refrained from groaning, the constant tension in his neck and shoulders easing a little from your motions. You then began actually making an effort to rub his shoulders, Karl grunting and exhaling hard. "Okay? Not too rough?" You queried.

"Be rougher, fuck." He said before he could think about it, chuckling awkwardly immediately afterwards. His laughter died in his throat when your thumbs pressed down, working at a specific knot until it finally released. "You're an angel." Karl sighed, trying to keep from making some hellishly embarrassing noise of relief.

"I need you in good shape for tomorrow! You're pulling the sled, after all." He could hear the smile in your voice. Heisenberg tipped his head back, resting it against your stomach. Your fingers raked through his hair and gently scratched his scalp as they went, sending a pleasurable little shiver down his back. You continued to stroke his hair absently, one hand over the other in a ceaseless loop while you kept your eyes on the sky in anticipation.

Karl was fighting to stay awake. He had actually woken up the same time as you today, which was a rarity. He was making the effort to adjust to your schedule, outwardly for no real reason, but selfishly so that he could see you before you got started for the day.

You were always so soft in the morning, your clothes rumpled, a steaming mug of tea cupped in your hands while you sat at the kitchen table. The man would often just sit silently, cradling his chin with his crossed arms on the tabletop and watching the steam from your cup curl in the early morning sunlight. Inevitably you would start mumbling to yourself about daily tasks and Karl always felt a little dejected when you rose from the table, but he would mask his disappointment with a small smile and an ever-declined offer to help with breakfast.

"We starting at dawn tomorrow?" He asked drowsily.

"Depends on how much snow is on-" you paused, leaning over his head. "Oh! Look, look!" You exclaimed, pointing. "It's starting!"

Karl nodded, not really registering the snowflakes beginning to drift down so much as the pleasant warmth of your body pressed to his back. "Guess Christmas is here." He teased, letting your laughter wash over him.

…

You were almost too excited to sleep, but before you knew it you were waking up to the light of a cold gray dawn. You had laid out your clothes the night before, so you quickly heated some water on the stove and washed up, then donned your under-layers for the trek.

Karl woke shortly after you, the man yawning and rubbing his eyes before accepting the offered cup of precious coffee. "Mornin'," he mumbled around the lip of the mug, his voice low and still gruff with sleep.

"Good morning." You replied, trying to keep your tone calm. You were sure that bouncing off the walls wouldn't be overly amusing to your perennial houseguest.

Karl raised an eyebrow at you. "Figured you'd be more wound up," he grunted.

"I am." You huffed, "I'm doing my best to not be irritating here."

"I appreciate it, sugar." Heisenberg took another sip, closing his eyes as if to dismiss you. You took that as your cue to head for the door. No sense in prolonging the inevitable, right?

The snow was perfect, a downy white blanket that coated the surrounding woods. You couldn't help your noise of elation, momentarily embarrassed when Karl snickered into his mug behind you. You refused to let him dampen your mood however, staying outside long enough to sweep the snow off the steps and then rushing around inside to prepare some breakfast.

"Easy, you'll break your neck running around in your socks like that." Heisenberg chastised you after the third time you slid on the floor heading back to the sink. "Let me finish the oatmeal, okay? You sit the hell down and get some tea or whatever the hell into you."

In moments your hands were graced with a steaming bowl of oatmeal which you did your best to eat expeditiously, causing Karl to chide you anew on the dangers of choking.

It seemed like an eternity and also no time at all before the two of you were all prepared for the journey, Karl standing out in the front yard with the loaded sled while you securely padlocked the cabin door. He had wanted to also carry your backpack, but you put up enough of a fight that he relented. Bad enough that you needed help at all! You weren't sure your pride would take the blow if all you had to lug were the clothes on your back, no matter how strong your companion was.

Nodding to yourself in satisfaction, you gave the padlock a final pat and then held the porch railing so you could strap your boots into your skis. They were really more like two slabs of once-waxed wood, but beggars couldn't be choosers. "Alright!" You announced brightly, seizing your ski poles so you could test the grip of your bindings. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Part Six

#karl heisenberg #lord karl heisenberg #eventual romance #fix it fic #au #resident evil #re 8 #re 8 village #resident evil village #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagine #re 8 karl heisenberg #slow burn #canon typical violence

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xiaoscarasimp · 8 months

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Smol Bit of Cat boi Smut 5

I'm not dead I swear I've just been writing other things on Ao3

Back at it again the gender bend arc so warnings this time include AMAB bodied reader/AFAB Scara/Lyney because gender bend, 3somes, attempt at writing lesbian sex and who can forget out fave SiZe KiNk

Smut MDNI

Pt 1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Despite the black out curtains, sunlight still managed to seep its way into the bed. Still half asleep, you find the two huge, warm pillows to your left and hide your face from the heinous light. When that fails, you find the much smaller pillows to your right side, and curl into them, despite the fact they were smaller. Only problem now is the fact your tail wouldn't stop thrashing around the pillows’ cores and a faint groaning could be heard from your left side.

Why are these pillows so loud? You muse hazily, half asleep.

You felt something wet and hard between your legs, and wondered if it was your darling cat boy trying to initiate morning sex again. Only problem this time was the fact that it felt more attached to you than normal; almost like you could feel every twinge and tickle it felt. You roll over to the bigger set of pillows and find something akin to a lollipop and start sucking on it, your hips grinding with every suck.

“W-worst candy ever,” you basically purr, voice heavy with sleep. As you fall back asleep with the candy in your mouth, you end up biting a little too hard, fangs causing the candy to leak out a sweet but bitter liquid. A grunt could be heard when you bit down, but you just snuggle right up to the warm pillows with candy.

There’s a throbbing in your core that is attempting to wake you up even more now than ever. You reach down and absent mindedly scratch your groin when you realize the usual folds weren’t there anymore. Sitting straight up like a zombie arising from a coffin, you realize that you were somehow only a bit more than half your size, still had cat ears and tail, and now fangs, and to make it all the more shocking: your breasts and pussy have disappeared, replaced by a wash board of a chest and a cock between your legs.

Trying to stifle a scream, you notice a relatively huge cat girl with long blue hair with purple highlights draped over her shoulders and chest, and a fair face with smudges of red eyeliner. You couldn't help but stare in awe at her beauty, skin glowing and mouth half open while she slept. Her hands were curled up like a cat's paw, nails long and shiny, not unlike your own cat boy. How lucky were you to bed this amazing looking woman. That is, if you managed to score last night.

To your other side, there is a cat girl with medium length blonde hair that strikes a shocking resemblance to Lyney’s sister, Lynette. She is snoring happily, mumbling something about magic shows and “don’t let the birds escape.” She was decently sized compared to you, however still rather small compared to the purple haired cat girl on your other side.

“Wh-who are you girls?” You timidly ask. “A-and why do I have��uh…you know…” You for some reason expect the blonde to have an answer before the bluenette. You have a sneaking suspicion who they are, but you want to double check before jumping to conclusions.

The blonde cat girl wakes up first, looks down at her chest, then down at your crotch, then to your head. She then proceeds to have a panic stricken look on her face, lilac eyes wide with confusion and a bit of mischief.

“Aha,” she held one finger up like she had a revelation. “I might have cast a spell before I fell asleep last night.”

“W-wait…Lyney?!” you scream softly. “And God dammit stop casting bull shit magic, for fuck's sake. Scara's gonna be pissed.”

Lyney chuckles weakly, rubbing his hand behind his head; he knew that he had messed up, but seeing a massive cat girl in his bed along with having his very own set of tits and a vagina made him quite curious. He mentions maybe using the gender swap to learn how to pleasure each other better under his breath, but you couldn't be sure.

The blonde then reaches his hands down towards your morning wood and rubs the tip between his fingers, a moan spilling forth from your lips. Your body felt like it had an electric current running through it, tingling down your spine. It wasn’t as powerful as with your original parts, but this was nice in its own little way.

“A mon cheri, who knew that you could make such beautiful moans as a man,” Lyney teases you.

In revenge, you allow your hands to wander down to his folds, stimulating his sensitive bud as only you knew how: gently but passionately. Rubbing circles around and applying pressure, you knew it wouldn’t take him long to cum. You insert your fingers in him, with the other hand, him gasping at the sensation. Lyney starts grinding on your hand, desperate for even more relief. When you can sense him almost getting there, you rip your fingers out from his needy hole.

“If you want some more, you have to pleasure me first,” You reach up to whisper in his ear, tail wrapping around his wrist. He was still quite a bit bigger than you, but he didn't resist you using your tail to keep him in his place. Climbing on top of him, you start to kiss him while your small arms have issues reaching his folds.

An idea popped in your head: shrink him and mess with him even more. You quickly make work of stimulating his clit, the little nub twitching under your fingers. You lean down to explore his folds, admiring the enlarged clit to the way the slick made every glisten. Giving the bud a lick and little nibble, you feel it tense up before finally releasing all over your face.

Since you were the one in control, he started shrinking faster than normal, and at this point was about the same size as you were when you woke up. You use this chance to grow to be about three quarters of your original height;the still unconscious cat girl is no longer as formidable as she once seemed. Towering over Lyney, grab his tiny body and place it on top of yours, dick between his ass cheeks. You prop him up and tease his over stimulated clit and folds with your weeping cock, savoring the juice that had flowed out earlier. Gently shoving your cock in, Lyney moans and gasps, clearly still over stimulated from earlier.

“Now I know why you guys crave this so much,” You say with a haze in your voice, ears flat with pleasure. “I-it’s like I’m home again.”

As you bottom out, you wrap your tail around his now even slimmer waist. You could see the definitive shape of your cock in his stomach, filling him up, kissing his womb, or might have even been in his womb at this point. Lyney moans and starts grinding himself down on your cock, desperate to make you cum, or at least make himself cum. Enjoying the sensation of his impossibly tight pussy for a few moments, you then decide to hold his hips in place, halting his grinding.

“ B-but y/n, why?!” Lyney exclaims, his tiny face flushed red with pleasure and lust. The shape of your cock was still firmly there, although not moving, head about half-way up his slim belly.

“I don’t pleasure bad magicians who keep messing up twice, Lyney,” You warn him. “The only reason why you would even get any type of pleasure is so I can watch you shrink away underneath me.”

“Y/n, are you ok? You’re acting a bit weird,” Lyney says nervously, eyes darting over to the purple haired cat girl who still hasn’t woken up despite all the chaos. He honestly was starting to feel a little scare, panic flashing through his eyes.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. I’m just about to live out a fantasy.”

Quickly, you position yourself to be able to suckle on the purple catgirl’s(who you were pretty sure was Scaramouche) boobs again, only a tad disappointed that there would most likely be no milk. The girl was starting to stir, mumbling something about her- no his chest being so heavy.

“Good morning, Scara,” You greet him, Lyney still impaled on your cock.

He looks at you, then to Lyney on your cock, to Lyney’s pussy, eyes wide. The cat boy then looked down towards his own assets, huge tits blocking his view down and a wetness between his legs, eyes widening even more. Scaramouche gives his breasts a few squeezes, flicks and rubs the nipples just to ensure he's not dreaming and they are, in fact, real.

“L-lyney?” His voice is still groggy with sleep. “What the fuck did you do? And why are you guys already fucking first thing in the morning?”

“Ehe, well you see,” Lyney says, trying to keep his composure under the angry gaze of the cat girl god,despite being way smaller. Scaramouche’s eyes flare at the magician’s lack of composure. He debated choking the poor cat girl still balls deep on your cock, but decided on something a little funnier.

He starts kissing you and massaging your chest. Despite no longer having any breasts, it was still surprising how sensitive you still were; not sensitive enough to cum just from this, but the cat girl still on your dick made the sensations even better. You thrust your hips up into him, his breasts bouncing in rhythm. Hearing him moan stimulates you even further, cock twitching inside of him. If you weren't careful, you'd end up spilling inside of him and shrinking yourself. Scaramouche's large tongue lap at your chest, before he sticks one finger in his mouth and prods your back side with it, before signaling where he wants you.

You attempt to stand up with the shrunken cat boy on your cock before falling back down straight into the wet finger. Scaramouche smirks, immediately finding the sensitive bean in your back end. It was almost like he had done this his whole life. Scaramouche moves his fingers back and forth, sending even more shivers up your spine, the bean vibrating under his fingers.

Before you knew it, you spilled inside Lyney, who started growing, smirking on his face. You keep a reminder in the back of your head to not let him get too big, since it was his fault you were in this position to begin with. Once you two were about the same size, Scaramouche easily flips you to face him, then climbs on top of you two, squishing Lyney in the middle. Lyney’s nipples were rubbing against your own, sending electric shocks down your spine, his tail rubbing against Scaramouche’s own buds.

“Want to reenact that one scene from that trashy anime that you forced me to watch the other day?” Scaramouche breathes in your sensitive ears. Thinking back to which scene he was talking about, you realize that he was going to have to shrink by quite a bit. He towers over you at this point, about double your current height. You start smirking, amused by the idea of eating him out, or better yet, you and Lyney double teaming him to make him cum over and over again, whittling him away as you do.

You nod, excited to actually eat a girl, or in this case-a cat boy in a cat girl’s body, out. Lyney looks at you confused, but you promise him that it’s going to be fun, but you guys were going to have to make the other cat boy cum at least once.

First, you pull Lyney off of your cock to better initiate the plan. You two both then use your combined strength to push Scaramouche backwards onto his back. Lyney started suckling on his nipples while you went straight for the clit. The sensitive bud was already pocking its cute little head out, awaiting for you to lick it. As you licked his clit, you feel his walls start to clench, grabbing at something that should have been there that wasn’t. You briefly consider sticking your dick in him, but you needed him to cum first, not you.

“Ahhn,” Scaramouche moans, clearly already overstimulated. “M-More. I need more p-ple-” he covers his mouth in embarrassment. You smirk into his cunt; you’d never thought that you would ever hear the word “please” attempt to slip past his lips.

“What was that, Scara?” Lyney teases him through a mouth full of nipple, Scaramouche was not lacking in the top real estate, making getting his tiny mouth around the nipple a bit of a struggle. His tail flicks in amusement at the cat boy’s purring and sudden submissiveness. “Maybe the gender swap was a good thing after all, my dear. Shows off your true submissive nature.”

“I-I am NOT submissive, you damn tw-twink~!” You tease his clit a little more and insert two fingers into his needy pussy while they are bickering. His reaction was a bit more than you could have ever anticipated and you quite frankly wanted to do it again.

You insert another finger into his hole, causing him to shift up onto the bed as if to almost try to escape the sudden intrusion, but his body kept telling him to shift back down. You can tell that he’s almost close to cumming, and to expedite the process, you sit up and decide to remove your fingers from his needy hole and replace them with your own cock instead. You catch Lyney’s eye and he starts sucking and biting on Scaramouche’s breast even harder, the latter catboy’s moaning could be heard from the heavens. Who knew that he could make noises like that? Maybe you’d have to turn him into a girl again some day; his girlish moans were something to be savored.

“Y/n! Lyney~!” He’s practically screaming in pleasure at this point. “I-I’m…I’m gonna c-c-um.” Poor cat boy was barely making coherent sentences at this point, although that was not good enough for you. You feel his wall start to take a choke hold on your cock, but right before he could cum, you pull your small dick out, staring up at him, smirking. He hisses at the sudden loss of warmth in his hole; he craved being filled up from the deepest pits of his hole.

Seeing his huge eyes watering from denial struck a chord in your heart and you decide to give the poor cat boy his release by sticking your dick back in him. To expedite the process, you use your tiny hands to stimulate the clit a little bit more because he squirted all over your hands. Curious to what it tasted like you taste a taste while the cat boy is shrinking on your growing cock.

The shrinking stopped and you and he were about the same size with Lyney being smaller than both of you. You pick him up with ease and place him on your cock as you lie back and motion Scaramouche to sit on your face. Scaramouche was sizing up Lyney, looking at his perfect lips and lilac eyes before kissing him passionately, larger mouth almost swallowing his lips whole. Lyney moans in Scaramouche’s mouth, vibrations turning him on to the point of almost cumming from the kissing alone. His tail wraps itself around Lyney’s slim wrist while his hands cupped his face to bring him closer.

Thrusting into Lyney makes the experience all the better for both of you, cock just barely visible in his stomach. Scaramouche's folds on your face were also tempting, but you allow him some time to recover from his last powerful orgasm, although if his clenching pussy suggested anything, it was that it wanted more. You stick your tongue in his folds and moan into his cunt, very much like he has done to you many, many times.

The two catboys continue making out through all their stimulation from below, rocking back and forth as they do, both about to cum on your cock and face. Scaramouche starts playing with Lyney’s chest, pinching the nipples harshly, twisting and pulling at them while he continues making out with the slightly smaller cat boy. The bluenette bites Lyney’s lip, drawing blood, causing him recoil in pain, though his movement was limited due to still being impaled on your cock. The sudden jerk makes Lyney’s gummy walls close in on you, wanting to squeeze you for every drop you were worth.

After not long of having both of them ride you, feel yourself spilling inside the smaller cat boy, whittling away underneath them as you do. Not long after the two of them rubbing their nipples together and making out cum on your cock and face, stopping you from getting too much smaller while the one impaled on your cock stays about the same size, Scaramouche shrinks to the point of now being shorter than Lyney. Lyney has a wicked grin on his face, and pushes the now smaller cat boy back on his back, using his bigger hands to stimulate his clit.

You deline any further activities, cock and mentally spent. Though you feel your dick start to harden while watching the two cat boys make out, the inclination to join them was not there.

Lyney sits on top of Scaramouche, cupping his face with one hand and the other reaching for his tiny clit. His hand is almost the size of his face, fingers delicately stroking his cheek. Scaramouche wears an almost indignant expression on his face, though some of the pleasure was seeping through; he always hated being short, especially compared to others. His eyes flutter, trying to resist orgasming but Lyney’s soft, delicate fingers are hard to resist. They move from playing with his clit to thrusting in and out of his needy hole, clenching harder and harder with each movement. He can only fit two fingers in Scaramouche’s tiny, tight pussy as he stretches it.

The sounds of your cat boy moaning send shivers down your spine, erecting your cock to half mast, despite being drained of everything. Your hands start to move towards your half hardened member and start touching it gently, stroking and playing with it. The boys look over and see your cock now starting to drip with pre cum, and Lyney starts kissing Scaramouche even harder now, eyes glancing back at you to watch your reactions.

Lyney’s fingers piston in and out of the tiny pussy before the raven haired cat boy reached climax and once Lyney’s fingers are shoved out of him, there is an audible pop, much like a balloon pop and you look down, and your member is gone. Your breasts have returned as well, and you look over to see the cat boys are their normal heights again, cock and balls and all,

“I swear to fuck Lyney,” Scaramouche seethes. “If you ever cast that shit ass magic again, I won’t partake in any more activities with you like this.”

“Aww,” Lyney playfully moaned. “But you were having so much fun, weren’t you, my dearest Scara, and y/n too. I bet you had always been curious as to what it’d be like to have a dick, didn’t you?” He winks at you.

Scaramouche had come to sit on your lap before you had even realized it, nuzzling the crook of your neck. You realize that he’s biting at your neck while falling asleep; this morning activities had really exhausted him. You nudge him gently, but the poor spent cat boy is already asleep. His tail was draped across your thigh, swishing contently. You motion to Lyney to start making breakfast so that you guys could hurry up and get home before Lyney’s family could return. Lyney nods, contemplating what to make before settling on scrambled eggs with cheese and some sausage and bacon, with a side of toast.

After he finished cooking, you and your cat boy were passed out on the bed and the room smelled of all the sex that had happened not even an hour before. He chuckles under his breath, knowing that the both of you would eventually want to try some of the size magic again, although it worried him if you tried it on your own without him. He was mostly worried for your Scaramouche and your somewhat sadistic urges, but that was a story for another time. First things first: gently wake the both of you up and eat a happy breakfast.

The smell of the bacon wakes you from your slumber. You hadn’t even realized you had passed out, resting your head on your cat boy’s. It was a miracle that his constantly flicking ears didn’t make you sneeze while you were asleep. The smell of the food also stirs Scaramouche from his slumber, his sensitive nose twitching. His mouth starts watering at the smell of the bacon and because Lyney’s was ever in tune with the both of you, he magics up a plate of the chewiest bacon he could muster before the cat boy’s face. Lyney also hands you your own plate stacked full of food.

Scaramouches' eyes widen at the sight before eventually digging in, offering some of the bacon to you. Jealous, Lyney puts some of the eggs on a fork and pokes your cheek with them, motioning you to open your mouth. As you did, you can feel your cat boy staring daggers at Lyney before he offers you some of his own eggs.

“Guys, I can feed myself. It’s not a competition; I have my own plate,” You say, flustered. While it was nice for them to want to feed you, you have your own plate. You also were not fond of how they made it a competition. Once you call them out on trying to over stuff you, they grumpily go back to eating their food.

Once everything was cleaned up, you and Scaramouche bid farewell. Well, you bid farewell, Scaramouche just sat there scowling. You chest was filled with anticipation: What kind of kinky adventures would the world bring you next time?

So I am looking for suggestions I hit severe writers block with this one. I will NOT write

Scat, Piss, gore/vore, etc. I reserve to the right to reject your suggestions if the make me uncomfortable

#genshin smut #lyney smut #scara #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin #cat boy #fanfic #size kink

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meemoop · 7 months

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I love Nietzsche items!! Plushies, washi tapes, stickers i NEED all of them for my mental health?!! Especially potioneer! Nietzsche! With smol gloves on his paws 🥺🥺🥺 and the protection glass on the eyes 🥺🥺🥺🥺🫠🫠🫠🫠 hugging his plushie must be feel good 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 and also plushie keychain 🥺🥺🥺🥺 and Snape one could be nice (bc i am down for Snape boi)

That’s so funny, I was going to make a lab safety wallpaper! Maybe I should just for you! If I ever get the money and resources to make merchandise, I so would 😭😭. Could you imagine little plushies, tapes, and keychains!?!?!? AHHHHH🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💕💕🫶

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pixies-and-poets · 7 months

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Happy Valentine's Day!

Can we get a cute moment with Vampire Phantom stuck in smol bat form? :3

(Or Hamster Phantom, lmao)

Lmaoooo I don't think the world is ready for Phamster just yet XD

So then, since the vampire AU needs something a little more light-hearted....

-----

The poet took no notice of the thumping at his window. Almost every single night, some bat bashed itself against the glass in confused agitation. They were drawn to the castle, and many of them lived in its upper spaces, hanging from gargoyles outside and rafters in attic rooms; so it was no surprise that the critters sometimes tried to make their way in through a window that turned out to be closed.

This was a stubborn one, though! It kept at it for what seemed like a full minute. Usually they were smarter than this; they learned their lesson quickly and flew away....

Squeaks and chirps came from the direction of the glass, and after a moment, the poet's ears shot straight up as he recognized something within them-

"Tristan.… TRISTAN!! TRISTAN WOODROW!! LET ME IN!!"

Pushing his chair back, the poet scrambled up from his desk and ran over. Sure enough, it was no ordinary bat. It was his beloved in bat form, bashing his head and his wings and even smacking his round belly against the window.

Woodrow unlatched the window as quick as he could, and pushed it ajar. "I'm sorry, Tom!" he cried as the bat fluttered inside. He held out his hands like a bowl, and the little creature of the night collapsed into them.

"Were you asleep at your desk?" came the squeaky little voice; still distinctly Tom's, with his accent and all, just at a very high pitch.

"No, sorry... I just never thought it was you. Why didn't you come in like normal? Or at least transform back, so you could yell louder?"

The bat frowned, cloaking his wings around himself in embarrassment. "I... cannot."

"You can't what?"

"...Transform back."

The poet blinked at him behind his glasses. He had never known Tom to lose his powers, unless he was grievously injured. "Why not? Are you alright?"

"This has happened to me before," he admitted, "Ere you came into my castle. It's not a problem, really. It's just... I was careless."

"Tell me what happened." He pulled the bat close to his chest, leaning him against it with one paw, while with the other he began stroking his tiny head and ears.

"I saw a villager while I was out. Why they were traveling alone at night, I cannot say... perhaps returning from some secret lovers' rendezvous. I can guess as much, for they were on fire, so to speak... Flush with blood near the surface, the red in their ears and cheeks and lips irresistible to me... and so, in my bat form, I thought I might swoop down for a bite and take that blush off of them. I would be doing them a favor, I thought... But they were no fool, and I myself was. I underestimate the intelligence of the locals sometimes."

He sighed, and scratched his cheek with one of his wing-thumbs. "As it turns out, under their cloak they were wearing a silver necklace, with an image of the Mother of Lumas. I had nestled at their throat for a sip, but as soon as they recovered from the shock, they pulled out the vile object. I must admit, its power stunned me, and I fell to the ground. Then the accursed Rabbid ran off. When I regained the power of movement, I quickly realized I had not regained the power of transformation."

"So... You're stuck this way," said the poet, and the vampire gave a small, embarrassed nod.

"You know, if you just controlled yourself and waited until you got home, this wouldn't happen," chided the writer, giving the bat a gentle poke on the nose.

"But I was hungry!" whined the other. "You know, my love, that you cannot satisfy me on your own. Would that it were true, but there is simply not enough blood in your veins, even when you're full to bursting."

The other sighed. "I know," he said. "Still, you've got to be careful." His eyes wide behind his glasses, he held the bat up to his face and asked, "You WILL get your powers back, won't you? You'll come to your normal self again?"

"Yes. I suspect this vile curse shall not last the night."

The poet lowered him back down to his waist level. "...Well in that case, I shall have some fun with you while it lasts."

"What?!" squeaked the vampire. It was then that the poet's hand pushed him over, and tickled his little furry chest, down to his round belly.

"S-STOP-" he squealed through helpless laughter. "I COMMAND YOU-AS LORD- OF THIS CASTLE-"

"I'm sorry, what was that?" said the poet. "I don't speak squeak..."

Phantom gave a little growl, and with some effort freed himself- then fluttered onto Woodrow's arm, clambered up his sleeve, past his shoulder, and bit into his neck.

"Agh! A mosquito!" cried the other.

The bat gave him playful flap, then tucked his wings at his side as he nestled into the poet's collar, attaching himself to the writer's neck. Woodrow smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed, reaching up to gently pet the little creature and watching the transparent bloodbag of his belly engorge.

There wasn't much he could take, in this form, and soon enough he detached, licking his little bat lips. He was woozy with fullness, and the poet lifted him off and kissed his stuffed tummy, then nuzzled his tiny nose. He raised him up to the canopy of the bed, and there, by a protruding knob, the bat hung himself upside down with his ghostly tail, furling his wings about him.

Woodrow lay back and looked at him, amused, thinking the bat would soon fall asleep in post-meal stupor. But instead, he began to softly sing. The poet was surprised, and his ears perked up yet again, because he had never heard his beloved give song while in this form.

He could guess why... far from his usual baritone, it was higher pitched than any normal Rabbid of any age, thus giving it something of a comical air. And yet... it was not his instinct to laugh, not at this. His lover's song was beautiful no matter what, and he was trusted enough to hear it, even under these circumstances. Aside from being adorable, there was something sweet and sincere and pure about it, like birdsong.

He would miss the immensity of his lover beside him tonight, the comforting pressure and presence of his body, and yet... this was a fine alternative. As he watched the little animal hanging there like some bizarre holiday ornament, his rounded form filled with the poet's own blood - caught between the moonlight from the window and the candle-light from the desk, and glimmering and reflecting them both - he realized he should very much like to hear the song of a bat again, and again.

#mario plus rabbids #mario + rabbids #alter answers #phandrow #SoH vampire AU

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cuppabeanz · 2 months

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KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

“Who is it?..” Skyee asked pulling her blanket around herself.

Noir zipped above the house to check. “Pizza delivery. Big wolf..wolf pony? Not Falchion.”

“A wolf pony with pizza? It couldn’t be…it’s ok Noir I think I know who it is.” Skyee tossed her blanket onto the back of her couch and got up. Rubbing the sleepy dust from her eyes, she opened the door.

“Skyee!!”

“Warren!” The wolf pone in question lifted the smol succubus in what could be described of a death grip bear hug. “Ack- I missed you too buddy!”

“Ah sorry, don’t mean to crush you. It’s just my first day off in a while that I can see you! Noone’s gonna steal you away anytime soon right?” Warren asked teasingly as he set Skyee down again.

“Heh, no. Almost, but..”Skyee gave a half hearted laugh and ushered the wolfpone inside with a slightly more sour expression.

“Almost?….not that same cyborg right? I swear if he’s messing with you again-“

“No, not him, we’re kinda friends now. It was well he’s my brother in another timeline. He was looking for his Skyee. But..ehh you don’t want to hear about this.”

“…it’s alright, you can tell me if you want to. We can talk over pizza.”

“Oh, gosh I’m sorry we haven’t hung out in so long. I don’t really need to eat anymore.”

“It has stuffed crust~”

“Welll a snack can’t hurt!” Skyee brightened up a little as they settled down on the couch. “Want anything to drink? I’ve got some buzzballs left.”

“Mm maybe later, but you know how I get when I’m drinking.”

“I wouldn’t mind some platonic snuggles.” Skyee shrugged her wings.

“Well in that case, I suuppooose I’ll help you get rid of those balls.” Warren chuckled and gave a paw thumbs up.

((Little short story about Skyee and Warren hanging out))

#skyee #Warren #platonic snuggles #story #mlp #noir

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the-irken-luxray · 2 months

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Oh yeah I never said anything about it but I did actually participate in Art Fight this year. Tbh I was actually planning on sitting this one out again; I jumped into it on a whim (for reasons I'd rather not get into) and thus had no character references available. (I had no references that weren't just stick figures and I've also been thinking of redesigning some of my characters anyways so I wouldn't have time to do both polished refs and actual attacks.)

Attack #1 is Laru, belonging to @darling-has-a-smol-heart.

Attack #2 is Sylvester Wesley, belonging to ChemicalClover on Art Fight.

IDs under the cut.

ID: Two digital drawings, fully colored and shaded, of the characters mentioned above. Both drawings have a watermark for the-irken-luxray overlaid on them. First image is of Laru, a white rabbit with light brown paws and tufts of fur on top of his head. He is asleep with his mouth hanging open, as though snoring. The background is light yellow with a multitude of white swirls. Second image is of Sylvester Wesley, a dark-skinned human with curly, blackish-brown hair, standing on a darkened theater stage with a red curtain hanging behind him. A spotlight shines on his upper body. Sylvester is wearing a red hat with a large white feather, a black eye mask that veils his eyes with white eye holes, a gold-backed suit with a red belt and white sleeves, red pants with white stripes, and black boots with a gold S on the outside. A red cape flows behind Sylvester as he rests his hand on a curved sword with a black and red handle. Sylvester's body is faced away from the viewer, with his head angled toward the viewer slightly. End ID.

#the irken luxray #my art #art fight #<- I can't tell whether this counts as fan art or original art #some decent stuff

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portlandrowismyhome · 1 year

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Borrowed Time: Chapter Two

part two of the serial killer Lockwood and co AU. Warnings for severe angst, mentions of torture, non graphic injury descriptions, minor language, fear, ANGST no comfort unless you count the horrific sadness of memory. Short chapter but more soon!!

please note this is a sideblog and all replies will come from @waitingforthesunrise. I truly appreciate comments and thoughts!!

tag list: @neewtmas @lemonsharks @givemea-dam-break @teaandtoastandthyme @givemea-dam-break @cordelia-street @paysomeonetopaysomeone @malteevars-kee-devi @the-biscuit-agreement @krash-and-co @oceanspray5 @smol-being-of-light @skies-of-gray @ikeasupremacy @wellgoslowly @oblivious-idiot @jesslockwood @tangledinlove @superpositvecloudshipper @peachesanddandelions @charmquarkstrangequark @pathetic-atthedisco @ladygrayish @saelterlude @carlyleandco @carlyleons @naivedaydreamer

CHAPTER TWO

Lucy awoke to the golden afternoon sun and the heavy weight of a cat on her chest.

She lay there, blinking at the blank ceiling; Miss Younge’s cat patted a heavy paw on her cheek.

“Took you long enough,” a disgruntled voice said from the floor, and with a burst of cold awareness Lucy knew where she was.

She was in Lockwood’s bedroom.

More correctly: she was in Lockwood’s bed.

It felt so familiar because it was the second time. It felt so strange because this time there was no messy-haired boy asleep beside her.

“Hello, Skull,” she said quietly. There was a leaden weight inside her ribcage; words felt heavy and forced, like slow molasses.

Lucy closed her eyes against the warm sunlight and tried to remember what had happened earlier. What day was it? Had the trip to Barnes and that awful, horrific phone call only been this morning? And Lockwood’s voice on the phone, that pleading note in his voice —

The cat meowed protestingly as she sat up and swung her legs over the bed.

“Did Holly bring you up?” She asked the Skull. It was all a blur in her head: staring at the phone in her hand, the burst of pain in her chest, and the sudden tip and swing of the room.

“Holly put me in a bag — a very smelly and disgusting bag, if you even care,” the Skull complained loudly. “And you could barely walk in a straight line. George had to practically fight you into bed. Holly asked if I would smell up the kitchen — as though that blond boy isn’t a worse health hazard! And—“

Lucy picked up the pillow from Lockwood’s side of the bed and held it to her chest. She had clutched it tightly against her in sleep, and she hoped desperately that the Skull had not noticed. It still smelled like him….a faint hint of citrus, something like the dusty books of the library…the first morning she had woken up beside him, his arm still draped over her waist and her leg over his….she opened her eyes and studied the faint worry lines traced across his forehead….Anthony Lockwood. He looked tired even in sleep.

“Are you crying?” The Skull demanded loudly. “Are those tears? What kind of independent agent are you?”

Lucy set the pillow down. “I’m not crying,” she snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She wished she could cry, but her eyes were dry as a bone and just as heavy. She slid off the bed and crossed to the window, peering out into the bright afternoon. People crossed the street below, wrapped in coats and colorful scarves. The winter sun glinted off the taxicabs and the shiny rapiers of a pair of Fittes agents climbing into a car down the block.

That other morning, waking up beside Lockwood, she had left, too.

She had stared at his dark lashes and purple signs of sleeplessness, and wanted. What, she didn’t know.

She had stumbled into his room that night, gasping, unable to breath, the panic choking her words, barely able to make it through the door. And then his arms were around her, and his scent and his voice…

Do you ever think about dying? She asked later, lying beside him in the darkness, his hand tracing slow circles on her waist.

His fingers paused. Yes, he said quietly. But not with the same love.

She clutched Lockwood’s hand, choking on the words she wanted to say. Don’t leave. Take me with you. Sometimes I want to go, too. I see the way you look at the ghosts. You’d trust me, wouldn’t you? You’d stumble through my door if you couldn’t breathe? Or would you let it take you away?

But she only said, I’m glad you’re here.

I’m with you, he said, and drew her closer.

And then the morning had broken and she had slid out of the warm bed and into the cold dawn because she couldn’t breathe, and it was all the fault of the sleeping boy. She had stumbled through Arif’s empty aisles and something within her wanted to run and never look back.

If he dies —

She hadn’t wanted to finish the sentence. She had stood in the doorway in Portland Row and looked at Lockwood’s panicked face as he tumbled down the stairs and felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

“Luce!” He had said, fear gasping through his nonchanlent tone. “I thought maybe…I woke up and you were…”

She held up the box. “Just donuts. That’s all.”

He nodded, trying to catch his breath, and Lucy had tried to drown her fears in icing. But, like ghosts, they returned in the night.

The Skull interrupted her thoughts. “Do you really think that boy is worth all this, Lucy? If you ask me, it’s a handy way to end it. And look! Maybe he left you the house! I can see it now: Skull and Co, in gold letters….”

Lucy studied the bedroom. It was a shambled sort of tidiness: half-hearted attempts had been made at cleaning up, but clothes still lurked on the seat of the armchair and books gathered dust beside the bed.

“Compared to that hole of a garbage disaster you call an apartment, Lockwood was a cleaning maniac,” the Skull remarked.

“He didn’t change the flowers.” Lucy pointed to the vase of flowers beside the bed in the ugly vase she had given him their first Portland Row Christmas. It was meant to be a joke, but Lockwood had solemnly replaced the flowers every week and refused to acknowledge the hilarity. The flowers were wispy and rotting.

She closed her eyes. “They’ve been there for weeks.”

“So? Maybe he had better things to do with his life than stuff flowers into the vase some girl gave him.”

“He wasn’t…”

“Doing well? Applause! Brilliance! Someone give her a prize, the girl’s a genius!” The skull smirked from the green jar. “You’ve been convincing yourself that your leaving would solve everything. It just made more problems, and Lucy Caryle doesn’t like that. How dare her brilliant plan not work?”

“Shut up,” Lucy snapped. She tried to smooth her crumpled blue shirt over her waist, doing her best not to glance at Lockwood’s closet door.

“You’d wear his sweatshirt if you weren’t such a coward,” the Skull said. “Oh wait! You couldn’t bear anyone knowing you have feelings. I bet you’d smell better, though.”

“You’re in a jar! You can’t smell.”

“I can detect the aura,” the Skull remarked with satisfaction. “That god-awful cat is scratching at the door again, Lucy. Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Just put it on and let’s go downstairs, I’m bored silly.”

Lucy slid her hand over the hanging shirts, Lockwood’s one concession to proper organization. She knew he kept a gray sweatshirt hanging somewhere…and really, it was just because she couldn’t go and change at her old apartment, could she? And Holly’s clothes wouldn’t fit her….she swept her hand across the top shelf and knocked something heavy to the floor.

A blue notebook stared back, tumbling open to reveal closely-written pages.

“Lucy!” The skull said. “The cat is looking at me. Lucy—”

Lucy knelt and picked up the notebook, smoothing the pages. There was a date in careful ink at the top….With a jolt of recognition, she knew what it was.

“It’s Lockwood’s diary,” she said quietly.

The Skull groaned loudly. “Of course he kept a diary. I bet he went to that gloomy graveyard and sat on his parents graves to write in it. But only on windy days so he could mess up his hair and feel something. Oh, Lucy looked at me today,” the Skull moaned, “and I’m such an stupid idiot I just looked back with my mouth hanging open.”

Lucy barely heard. She sat back on her heels, feeling the weight of the notebook in her hands. “What if Lockwood knew something?” She asked. “What if he wrote what cases he was working on? What if it wasn’t a kidnapping? Our cases could have been crossing.”

She tried not to think about all the ways the caller could have abducted him. An invitation to a single case….a note signed in her name, asking to meet privately…

He would have walked into the trap singing.

Lockwood, she thought desperately, Lockwood, you’re such an idiot…

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Lucy jumped to her feet. She felt off-balence without the rapier attached to her hip.

Holly peered around the door. Her eyes were shy underneath the long, dark eyelashes, and Lucy wondered disgruntledly when she’d had time to do make-up and her hair.

“Good morning, Lucy,” Holly said hopefully. “I just wanted to…check on you. There’s food downstairs, if you’d like? You should really eat something. I’ll get you a drink.I—”

“Holly.” Lucy held out the notebook, her voice cracking. “Have you seen this notebook before?”

“It’s Lockwood’s, I think. He carried it around sometimes.” Holly crossed the floor and touched Lucy’s arm gently. “Lucy…we’ll find him. We’ll try everything…”

Lucy looked into Holly’s eyes, searching for some kind of reassurance. She wanted to push the other girl away, she wanted to scream, she wanted to hug her tightly. She wanted things to go back to the way they were; but when was that? There had been good moments, she was sure of it, but all she could remember was standing on the doorstep and looking at Lockwood’s sleep-dazed face and thinking if he dies now I’ve killed him. If he dies now I couldn’t save him or I could and didn’t and —

And so it was better to go while there was time.

But, Lucy thought, what if the time had already almost run out?

Across the city, same time

“Is that really all you’ve got?” Lockwood asked mockingly. “Pitiful.”

His skull snapped back against the wall with the force of the blow. He sighed, letting himself crumple to the floor and steadying himself against the concrete. His head was spinning badly enough he almost could forget there awful pain in his ribs and the pooling blood beneath him. He thought of Lucy’s smile. Lucy! He should have told her. Something, anything. That he was sorry for loving her like he did; so broken, so painful, in so many pieces. It hasn’t always been like that. He had thought, for a few months, he wasn’t so unfixable after all…That one night she had come to him, running from the darkness, and he had woken with her in his arms in the small hours of the morning. He had felt whole, then. And now —

A hand twisted his face upwards. “You’re thinking of her,” the voice snarled. “She’ll come.”

“She won’t,” Lockwood said with all the strength he could.

“She will. She has to save you, after all.”

Lockwood sighed, his breath burning his ribs. “She doesn’t have to save me…”

“Maybe not. But she thinks she does. That’s all that’s needed.” The figure chuckled and crouched on the ground. “Do you recognize me, Anthony Lockwood?”

Lockwood stared into the hollow, burning eyes of a man that had changed little in four years. He leaned back and waited for the pain to come.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

to be continued ~

#lockwood and co fanfiction #original fanfic #original fanfiction #Anthony Lockwood fanfiction #Lucy Carlyle fanfiction #Lockwood and co fanfic

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