#stump grinding small stumps

[chrisstumps05]

How deep does a stump need to be ground to grow grass?

[blackice-nsfw]

imagine getting fucked by your pack of werewolves, over a dozen strong, emptying their balls into you over and over again as they pound into you relentlessly chasing their own pleasure but not allowed to knot you. Their dicks are the biggest ones you've ever taken, stretching you to the brink and stretching you even more as they bully themselves inside of you, shoving their knots in and out until you scream for release, to finally have a knot inside of you, but they always stop right as their knots press against you, never pushing further.

Each of them are so thick they grind against all the right stops inside of you, making you moan and wail as they use you, face down and ass up, tied to the tree stump as you are. Even when you slump down in exhaustion their big clawed hands grab your hips hard enough to bruise as they bully their length into you, howling as they bottom out and start a relentless pace. You don't know how long it's been going on, the full moon shining above you as the puddle of cum keeps dripping out of you unto the ground, mixing with your own release as they kept going on and on without rest. You were deep into your orgasm, a knot halfway inside you as an intimating snarl echoed in the clearing.

The werewolf alpha, the biggest one of the whole pack, shoved the lower ranking werewolf off of you, ripping his knot out of you. Your empty hole clenched around nothing, used to the size and shape of them by now, moaning to be filled again. The moment the alpha pressed the head of his cock against you, you knew you were taking in more than you could chew. Just the head felt bigger than the knots that were pressed against your hole all night. He was huge. You wondered if you'd break. But he kept pushing in, pressing himself deeper than you ever thought possible, the cum from all the other making the slide easier.

The alpha growled as his cock hit resistance, pushing you head down unto the tree trunk. "I let all my wolves use you tonight. You will take me to the hilt."

You wailed as he bullied his cock deeper, with stronger thrusts than all the other before. Your hole was stretched beyond what you thought was even possible, clenching around his dick and the small protrusion of his knot. He chuckled slightly, pushing deeper. "There you go. Such a perfect cunt for us. I'm sure you'd like to pleasure us even outside of the full moon. Still so tight, trying to milking my cock."

The alpha pushed you down on the tree trunk, a clawed hand pressing into your skin, threatening to pierce if you moved. The other kept your hips raised as he started a brutal pace, Everytime he thrusted into you, your breath was punched out of you lungs from the savage pressure inside of you. It wasn't long before you wailed on his cock, gripping him in a vice grip as you came, being overstimulated and begging for him to slow down. But he ignored you.

"C'mon, you're our bitch now, we can use you however we want. And right now I want you to milk my knot as much as possible before I fuck you again and again." the alpha said as he thrusted even deeper, making you cry out as you came again, the third time in a handful of minutes on his massive cock.

As he kept pounding into you, releasing pleased grunts into the night, you could feel something change. Everytime he bottomed out, a pressure was pressed against your hole, insistent, constant. You had felt knots from the other werewolves, but nothing like this. It felt so big. So thick. As your insides were bullied into giving you another orgasm you could faintly think of what that would mean.

You only felt fully inflated knots before from all the other werewolves. They were thick and could've slipped right into you as they came over and over again. But this? It felt bigger than a fist, bigger than anything you had ever taken inside of you, and you were just gangbanged by a pack of werewolves. It kept pressing against you with more and more strength, harder thrusts, wanting to bury itself inside you as the alpha panted over your shoulder, repeating how good you are for him, how tight you still are after taking all of his pack.

A last thrust punched all the oxygen out of your lungs as the biggest thing you ever taken was shoved inside you and kept inflating.

You wailed and thrashed as the alpha kept you in place, bullying his knot in and out of your tight hole even as you wailed in pleasure, tears running down your face as hot cum filled the limited remaining space in your hole, the knot so big it was stopping anything from spilling out, no cum would be wasted while you were knotted on the alpha's cock.

He bent down and licked your cheek when the torrent of cum finally stopped, comforting you. "If you think we're done yet, the full moon is not even at half mast in the sky. I'll keep using you until I'm bored, and I'll let the pack use you as they want until I'm ready to go again."

[fairlyang]

Picture Perfect 🏹

w/c: 1.7K

pairing: kate bishop x plus!sizefem!reader

tags: 18+ smut. teasing kate, pervy kate, she has a strap prepared, referring to said strap as her cock, exhibitionism, photo booth, groping, teasing back, grinding, reverse cowgirl, holding you upright while she fucks you

a/n: this was a wip/idea from May…. Also I am working on a recent Kate request and did write for that one but then remembered I had this beauty….

You laughed as Kate dragged you around the mall after all the teasing you had done to her. Trying on tight tops and showing her how they looked while she had to force herself to not charge into the little changing room and bend you over right then and there.

The final straw was you trying on bras at Victoria’s Secret that just had your tits sitting so perfectly she was genuinely drooling. She only groped them a little bit but how could she be blamed with your tits nearly falling out of it?

Along with that cute little purple skirt that hugged your curves and tummy just right, just how she liked it, she really couldn’t be blamed for groping you as if no one was around.

Only barely having you against the wall with your skirt up to show pretty black panties as she fought the urge to give your round ass some hard smacks and take her cock out.

But a risqué idea came to her mind and it’d also serve as a memory to not fuck with her in public like that again. So her first thought was why not stop by the ole reliable photo booth that was at an empty corner of the mall?

So you were a giggling mess as she held your hand and led you to god knows where because she was dead silent and on a mission. It was growing silent as you got to the empty spot of the mall and you were just curious on what she had in mind.

Because she might be a little exhibitionist but she wouldn’t want to get caught for public indecency, would she?

Your question would soon be answered when you saw the little photo booth and she walked straight to it. “Kate what are you-“

She opened the curtain and went in first then pulled you in before making you sit on her lap. You quickly closed the curtain then gasped when you felt one of her hands go down your thigh. “You think you’re so funny dont you baby?” She whispers in your ear while bringing her other hand to squeezed your left breast.

“Such a fucking tease.” She murmurs and brings her right hand closer to your already soaking pussy.

Your breathing became more rapid and you didn’t even know how to respond because you just love playing games. But this is the first time you get a consequence out of it and you were stumped on what smart words could help.

She started to lift her hips up against you, purposely grinding just so you can feel her strap. Taunting you. Teasing you.

Her left hand went under your shirt and groped your breast while her right drew circles on your thigh. Your poor thighs were shaking and she hasn’t even done anything yet.

She lifted herself up a bit just so she can take her wallet out and handing you her card, “we might as well take some memorable pictures.”

You swipe her card, give it back to her and the old scratched up screen asked how many strips you want then to choose the frame. As you were pushing the button to see all the options, Kate moved her hands to your hips to help you grind against her because she wanted you to be nice and wet for her.

Your eyes fluttered and you tried your best just to focus on choosing a cute frame but grinding right on her strap just felt so good.

“Choose a pretty one baby, with a black and white filter.” She murmurs and you nod.

You got to one that had a bunch of red and pink hearts on them with a black background so you selected it. The next step was the filter so you scrolled until you got to the black and white one when Kate lifted your top over your tits.

You shivered a little but then she started to squeeze them both. You let out a small moan and she squeezed them harder. “Fuck-“

“So fucking perfect.” She whispers and it sent a shiver down your entire body.

“Stand up for a second baby.” She says and you quickly do it.

She unzips her pants and takes her cock out before spitting on it then stroking it. You watched her in awe, eyes filled with desire as you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation. “C’mere baby, take your seat.” She motions for you and you were about to sit on her lap but she clicks her tongue and shakes her head.

“You’re gonna face the camera pretty girl.” She whispers and your eyes widened.

“I want a picture of my pretty girlfriend to keep in my wallet.” She murmurs and turns you around then grabs your hips.

You move your panties to the side then position yourself above her cock then grab it, lining it up to your entrance but swirling it in your wetness first. You bring it back to your entrance and you slowly begin to sit on it, just so you can feel every inch before Kate brings you down all the way.

You whimper and clench against it as she wraps her arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder. “Maybe we can get a couple of these for good measure.” She whispers and sends yet another shiver down your spine.

“Press start my love.” She says and you nod, pressing the bottom and a five second countdown starts.

Without being told you brought your ass up then bounced back down on her. You moaned and did hard thrusts just so you can feel her going deep inside you. Then the first click is heard and the next countdown begins.

“Just keep riding my cock baby.” She moans and you nod.

You bounced up and down on her cock like your life depended on it and you weren’t so surprised you were soaked, that’s usually how Kate had you. You straightened up up and lifted your shirt up, squeezing your tits with your arms right when the second click went off.

“Fucking shit baby.” She groans and grabs you, quickly standing up before having you on your knees on the little bench.

She didn’t waste any time to just mercilessly pound into you with no care in the world of getting caught. She knew you’d be fine.

“You just love being a little horny tease for me don’t you baby?” She murmurs and you nod, holding onto the wall while she grips onto your hips.

“Fuck Katie- please don’t stop!” You cry out and feel your eyes getting glossy.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she continued her pace. At that point your first set of pictures were done and she meant it when she said she wanted multiple.

So she took her card out from her front pocket and swiped it again, choosing the first frame and filter then pressing the start button. She looked down at you, looking so fucking perfect. The way your ass bounced against her made her believe this was heaven on earth.

She groaned and started going harder, then bringing her hands to your shoulders to bring your body up. You straightened up and she wrapped one arm around your stomach and the other gently around your neck. You leaned back into her and she went in to leave sloppy kisses on your neck.

You cried out as she sucked on your skin and her pace became more desperate. You brought a hand down to your clit and start rubbing it, now clenching against her cock. You were already feeling so close and you didn’t think Kate would dent your orgasm from you.

Let alone toy with you.

“Do you think you d-deserve to cum? After h-how you played games with me? Hm do you deserve it baby girl?” She groaned earning herself the sweetest whimpers from you.

“Katie please.” You cried and she chuckles.

“That’s not a response my love.” She murmurs making you whimper.

“I-I- fuck- I promise I w-won’t do it again.” You pleaded and you could just tell she had a nasty smirk on her face.

“Good girl. Always such a good girl for me.” She moaned and started fucking into you deeper.

She somehow was always able to get an orgasm when fucking you and this wasn’t even a double ended dildo. She was always turned on by hearing your moans, seeing how good you took her, and the mess you’d make just for her.

So it was to no surprise when she was getting slower and sloppier, she was right on the edge like you. “You always fuck me so good baby.” You whimper and that was enough for both of you.

She groaned and went as deeply as she could while you both came hard for one another. Your body was shaking and she didn’t let you go, the hand on your neck went to your stomach as she held you gently. She kissed your shoulder and tried to control her breathing because that was such a good orgasm.

“Don’t stop your teasing.” She murmured into your ear making you giggle.

“Thought you didn’t like it?” You teased and she scoffed.

“I don’t…” she lied then continued, “but maybe I’ll just have to carry my strap everywhere.”

You laughed then shook your head in disbelief as Kate smiled. She carefully and slowly slipped out of you and it was times like these she was grateful she doesn’t choose her ejaculating dildos to wear when you’re out and about.

You fix your panties and she fixes your skirt for you. She then helps you off the little bench and fixes your top as well. She opens the curtain and grabs your hand as you excitedly grab your pictures.

The first set were all different, all four pictures of you in a different position which was funny because she really did move you in a desperate attempt to have different positions.

The second set was just hot. The first two pictures were you in doggy and the last two were her holding you up. One with her cock being out of you and the last with it deep inside you.

Picture perfect.

You gave her one of each and she quickly stuffed them into her pocket while you admired how cute they look while the actual pictures were so dirty. “And no one’s around so we gotta do it again.” Kate says and you look at her with a wide grin.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

NAUGHTY SIZE DIFFERENCE (specifically with Azul but sprinkled with Jade and Floyd)

But picture poor Azul who finally shows you his true form, and…his cock is the SAME SIZE AS YOU! He never took too much thought into his size, down there at least, but how is he gonna have fun times with you! He can’t enter you :( BUT! You can basically wrap both your arms and legs around him, your tiny mouth and parts rubbing against him. But he nearly drowns you when he finishes…he repays you/apologizes for nearly drowning you by letting you grind on his tongue for as long as you want, he’s too nervous to truly suck you off/eat you out in this size, but let’s you use him!

Floyd And Jade are smaller than Azul, but still quite big compared to you! They can atleast fit, but they both enjoy the preparation part more to be honest, overstimulating you to an inch of your life, before bringing you back with a harsh slam of their hips!

We sure do love our big boys.

Kind of funny how you're pretty much able to hug his tentacle dick. Another interesting thing is him being able to taste you with those suckers and they probably feel nice in a lot of areas.

I remember seeing nsfw of someone giving oral to a fairy that's chilling in the palm of their hand and that's pretty much how it is with Azul with the size dif, you a cute little fairy to him that he can diddle.

I do wonder if the twins would be able to even fully fit given what they have would likely go past your belly button and be pretty thick. You would probably be able to fit half before it's too much/hits your cervix if you have one. I would say they're likely big in their human forms too and they would tease you for being so small and having trouble taking it, how do you expect to mate with them in their true form if you have trouble even handling the weird little (to them) dick stumps that the silly humans have.

They all likely come a lot, and it's thick and sticky so the water can't easily wash it away. Need to be able to breed you properly after all. Definitely a hassle to get cleaned off.

[elektramustdie]

virgin patrick stump blurb

"Baby," he panted, digging his fingers into your thighs, "baby baby baby-- slow down, fuck--"

"Slow down?  Patrick, I've barely got the tip in," you noticed with a laugh, struggling a little to hold yourself up above his lap at this angle for much longer than you'd originally planned-- you'd been so excited to slide down and feel him balls deep inside you--

"I know, fuck, but m'so close already," he whined, "you're so... warm."

"Sorry, but I'm really not the patient type," you grinned as you sunk down and your smile fell to a gasp as he filled you to the brim.

"Oh fuck!" he moaned, head falling back.  "O-oh, god-- so fuckin' perfect..."

He watched you ride him for a few moments, but he couldn't keep his cool any longer when you balanced yourself on his chest and started to really fuck yourself on his cock.

"Baby, m'gonna-- oh, fuck, get off--"

You bit your lip and shook your head.  "Mm-mm, want it inside," you cooed.  "And I'm not gonna stop until I cum."

"Sh-shit, baby, you might kill me," he whined.  "Please-- will you at least slow down?"

Laughing, you replied, "already told you once I don't know how to slow down.  Especially not when your cock feels so good--"

"Fuck!" he shouted as he came, moaning loudly and fucking up into you for a few weak thrusts.  Of course, he was completely jelly beneath you when you kept riding, ignoring that he looked like he'd been fucking possessed with how his eyes rolled back.  "God, b-baby, please-- please--!"

desperate for your own release and knowing it wouldn't take much longer if he kept looking so adorably wrecked under you.  "Don't you wanna make me cum, Patrick?" you mocked.  "You kept saying you'd rock my world-- takes at least a couple minutes to do that, don't you think?"

But he wasn't exactly... capable of responding to that, he was whining so loud you could barely hear yourself talk.  

"Just stay still, Trick, I'll do all the hard work for you... just try not to pass out."

He chuckled “god i love you” he exhales, The bed rocking back and forth as you grinded on his cock. The pictures on the wall shake as you go faster. He watches as your breasts bounce, putting him in a trance. 

“oh trick” you gasp out, You feel your release building back up. You reach a hand between your legs as Patrick watched you. You rub tight circles on your sore bud.

He leans up on his elbows, looking on as you play with yourself. He was getting close again. Another orgasm threatening to spill out of him. 

"W-wanna cum again for you." Patrick lets out a small whimper. He sounded so needy.

"oh baby." You mewl. Your mouth creating an O shape. Your eyes are closed tight, and your thighs shake. You feel that coil in your belly tightening. 

He feels your walls pulsing around his cock and he thrusts up repeatedly hitting that spongey spot inside you just right. Your hand moving faster circles on your clit as you struggle to keep riding him.

Patrick keeps thrusting his cock up in your pussy over and over again. It doesn't take much longer before your orgasm is ripping through your body. You let out a moan that almost resembles a scream. He's watching you come undone before him. A hint of pride hits him, knowing it was him who did that to you. 

Your nails digging in his chest while his cock helps you ride out your orgasm. Your body spasms above him. You lean forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck. You stay like that while Patrick sweaty skin and leftover cologne invading your nose. Sitting back up your mind feeling foggy and your face tingles. White dots appearing in front of you. 

“that was hot..” he exhales in a short laugh. “not bad for your first time pretty boy” you whisper looking into his eyes and pecking at his lips.

[smt4flynn]

curtained

Exhibitionism with Astarion and Tav? o0o

Content Includes: PIV, R18, minors stay awaaaaaaaaaay, reader-insert, nebulous timeline, and exhibitionism.

You can also read this on AO3 if you want ('-')b same name, by Voidromeda

----------

It isn’t that odd for the rest of the camp to find you curled onto Astarion’s lap, hugging him tightly while wrapped up in a blanket or several, his chin resting atop your head. It’s a strange habit of yours, they observe, that you tend to wrap yourself up tightly in blankets before hunkering down and just closing your eyes. You cannot trance like the elves, lowly tiefling that you are (“you know we’re not lowly, right, soldier?” Karlach says to you one day, when she notices you with that far away stare; her arms tense, eyes slip shut, and goes, “we’re amazing, you and I. We are.”), so you settle for a normal meditation to try and clear your mind.

Exercise won’t help you much, not really. Not right now at the very least. Over time, Astarion begins to notice how you seem to enjoy curling in on yourself, all alone and almost looking cold if not for the way you wrap yourself up so tight in your blankets. Eventually, when emotional honesty isn’t both setup and punchline for Astarion, you find yourself settling into his lap nowadays for your little meditation sessions. Despite him not really feeling changes in temperatures, or even being bothered by them, you always make sure he is involved in your cotton cocoon. You feel so small in comparison to everyone else, sometimes finding it something to be a bit ashamed by, but now, as you are in Astarion’s lap, sized perfectly to slot into him, you find you do not mind your height differences that much.

This, however, is not a definitely appropriate use of your meditative time. There is a tree stump in your camp this time around, something Astarion takes advantage of to lean back against while he cradles you on his lap. You wrap your arms tightly around him, face pressed into his neck, shivering against him while your breath puffs onto his faded bite scars, and you momentarily curse yourself for wearing an easily accessible casual wear instead of pants like you usually do.

It doesn’t take much effort from a mischievous Astarion, eyes twinkling aglow with something innocuously sinister, an utter oxymoron of intent you are aware but your mind does not have any better way to describe it, untie the straps of his pants and bare himself to the world. Underwear, he decides this day, is apparently optional.

“Keep it hush, hush, darling,” Astarion says quietly while your claws bunch the back of his poet’s blouse, legs quaking on either side of him, while he makes sure your many blankets are covering them enough so that others won’t notice what you’re doing. He is already hard when he brings himself out – has he been fantasizing about this? You don’t get to ask, not when his hands roll the hem of your gown up, bunching it at your hips, and he simply pulls aside the gusset of your panties to gain access to your vulva.

He doesn’t spend too long fingering you open, reluctant as he is to stop (“I love it when you lose yourself on my fingers,” he hisses feverishly to you, his free hand pressing down on your mouth so that the noises don’t escape his tent, “so sweet, always so sweet and stoic with a polite little smile, yet you turn into something degenerate at the hands of something you. Should. Hate. Oh, you are so good at making my ego swell!”), and it isn’t long before the swollen head of his cock presses against your hole. There is only minute resistance before your muscles relax, letting him push you down onto him, making your vagina swallow him up slowly, casually.

That is how you find yourself desperately clinging to him; his shape, ever since the first time, always feels so perfect inside of you, keeping you delightfully open as he pushes in deep. Your vagina flutters around him, your hips grinding in slow circles at his behest while you are delighting in the wonderful feeling of him (now) hot and throbbing inside of you. You feel him hum before you hear it, keeping up the pretense of enjoying a relaxing time with you, and not that he is currently balls deep inside of your cunt, that one hand isn’t resting on your ass cheek to help you move, to help you grind against him, envious he is of the fact that he cannot flush like you are right now. His other hand rests lazily atop your thigh, feeling the quiver of your muscles.

The bustle of the camp keeps making you jolt into him, moving him around inside of you, constantly making you lose the best spot where his cock presses and tortures that erogenous, swollen gland inside of you, and it isn’t helped by the fact that Astarion only helps you move, doesn’t help you reposition yourself. You have to keep shifting by yourself, trying to keep it inconspicuous so that they don’t ask you why you’re squirming so much. You know, especially, that Gale will notice – extremely attentive and perceptive, that one, though you don’t want the wizard to notice that your hole is getting red and swollen from being constantly speared open around Astarion’s thick cock. You can only nuzzle into him, trying to hide how heavily you’re breathing, all the while Astarion just gives you little pets on the thigh, disguising a moan as a sigh when you cuddle into him.

It looks casual, like you are just relaxing into him, your movements not enough to make the blankets shift and fall off, yet also not enough to satisfy that deep ache inside of you; pathetically, you want him to just scoop you up into his arms, maybe while still staying inside of you, your joining still kept hidden, before walking you out into a clearing to properly fuck you. You muffle a whimper into his shoulder as you imagine being held up by him, him walking casually around with you in his arms while still balls deep inside of you, holding you tight to him so that you can only feel the twitch and throbbing of his erection.

The mage hand he quietly summons does not help matters much either, invisible as always and not breaking it even when two spectral fingers finally help pull your clitoral hood back to get at the swollen, erect clit hidden beneath. You are dripping all over his lap, no doubt staining his nice leather pants with your pre; you are so shamefully wet, how is no one hearing you? Even the tiniest of wet squelches as you circle your hips around him, clenching tight and barely bouncing on his cock, is so painfully loud in your ears -

His hand lifts off of your thigh to ruffle your hair, tilting your head back with gentle tugs so that he can give you a sweet peck on the forehead – “d’awww!” you hear Karlach call out from whatever she is doing, always so supportive of you two, and embarrassment jolts hot through you. Your blush darkens on your cheeks and Karlach laughs in good humour, assuming it to be because sweet affections like this are still far and few between with Astarion. You see Shadowheart give you a slight smile from the corner of your eyes and you turn your head, missing the way Wyll gives the two of you a slight wave before he needles Gale to do something with him.

“You’re doing well.” Astarion whispers to her, voice unfairly even, as if Lae’zel isn’t cleaning her armour a small distance away. Like you aren’t tormented by the fact that the only thing you’re doing is warm his cock, barely getting to bounce and get fucked like you want. You want to cry, you want to moan loud and free, inside of muffling yourself into his shoulder, teeth biting at his blouse, trying not to be noisy. The movement on your clit is so good, the mage hand rolling it lazily, sometimes dipping down to stroke along where his cock is opening you up.

It feels good. It isn’t enough – you want Astarion to move, you want him to let you move. You ache so deeply, a knot tightening in your abdomen, yet the hand on your ass, the way his free arm now wraps around you to keep you pressed up to him, keeps you grounded, restrained. You hear Lae’zel murmur something to herself in gith, Shadowheart is talking to Halsin about something else, and Gale is explaining one thing or another to Wyll.

The day is still so bright and hot. You must be drooling into his shoulder, growing wetter and wetter the more you are denied the right to move; “Good pet,” he praises quietly, and you sink your teeth harshly into your lower lip when another mage hand apparates, taking the prior one’s place on rubbing and stroking your clit, stimulating that bundle of nerves roughly. Silence is torture and you sniffle; the former hand is still stroking your stretched hole and you almost jump out of his lap if not for him keep you tethered down when fingers push into the tight stretch of your vagina.

You want to cum, you need to cum, you need to – you pant against his neck, whimpering pleas into his skin, and Astarion practically purrs above you from your responses. Your eyes practically roll into your head – are you truly this pathetic that minute, barely there movement is going to get you off? You are teetering so close, and -

The mage hands disappear. All of the hot, feverish touching is gone and you are crashing back down, as if sobering abruptly from far too many drinks, and you hiccup into his skin, completely taken aback. You are shaking, not enough for anyone but Astarion to notice, and he presses another sweet, loving kiss against your forehead.

“Sit, behave.” Astarion whispers. “You don’t get to cum yet, darling. I don’t want us to, not just yet – you’re going to keep me inside you until I go soft, and then, you aren’t allowed to touch yourself, hm? Not until I give you permission to again.” you huff against him. You want to slap him, you want to cry, you want to beg. “... but any time you want to stop,” he reminds you and you just sniffle and nod into his skin, and Astarion almost sighs in relief. “For now, just be good, sit, and behave. I’ll come for you later.”

You hope he keeps to that promise. It is utterly cruel of him to deny you like this, but you also don’t want to disobey him. So, like a good dog with its tail wagging, you obey the command you are given and try to just relax into him, while your pussy flutters around his hard cock. This, you think, is going to take a while.

[mychlapci]

After weeks of radio silence from Prowl, Optimus Prime is beside himself with guilt and concern. Truthfully, even he doesn’t know what a union with the Unmaker entails. He can only hope and pray that all goes smoothly and Prowl returns unscathed… This is traditionally a Prime’s duty, and Prowl is no Prime.

When Optimus finally receives Prowl’s distress signal, he drops everything at once and assembles a small crew to retrieve him. Without a second to spare, Prime, Ratchet, and Ironhide depart for Earth.

Nobody could’ve guessed the sort of state they’d find Prowl in. Dazed, grimy, and gravid, the Praxian barely notices his friends’ arrival until Ratchet’s right at his side. His dull blue optics stay transfixed on the maw of Unicron's cave for a moment longer before shifting to the medic, slowly widening with realization and recognition as he finally regards his presence. 

Prowl seems to come to his senses after a beat, speaking calmly and casually to the group as Ratchet helps him to his peds. He dances around questions about the union, insists that he’s alright, and hobbles ahead of his three dumbfounded friends… All the while idly stroking his swollen stomach with a gentle, reverent touch. Optimus can only stumble after him, with a concerned Ratchet and dumbstruck Ironhide in tow.

The days that follow are strange and tense. Ratchet thoroughly inspects Prowl’s frame, stumped by his findings. Besides being stuffed full of eggs of an unknown species and origin, Prowl is otherwise completely fine. If anything, he looks healthier than before. He’s uninjured and well-fed, his tank full of strange but nourishing organic matter.

What worries the group most is Prowl’s demeanor. He stubbornly maintains that he's fine, but Prime knows better. There’s a far off look in his optics, he can't seem to hold a train of thought very long, and most concerningly, he’s become shamelessly and incessantly horny. 

From trying to crawl into Ironhide’s lap in the pilot’s seat, to bluntly propositioning Optimus with the same cold confidence he’d propose military strategy with, to mindlessly grinding back against and repeatedly cumming around Ratchet’s digits during his initial examination; Prowl’s behavior is as disturbing as it is maddeningly arousing. And the worst part is, Prowl himself doesn't seem to realize that he's acting odd.

By the third day of their voyage, Ironhide gives up on nudging the needy Praxian off his lap, instead focusing on keeping his panel closed as Prowl pants, whines, and feverishly rides one of his thighs. All the bigger bot can do is grit his teeth and clutch the arms of his chair as Prowl shamelessly ruts his bare valve against his leg, smearing sweet pink slick all over Ironhide’s thigh before overloading with a pitiful whimper… And after a peaceful moment of rest against Ironhide’s chest, getting up and casually waddling away like nothing happened, lubricant still dripping down his legs.

Ratchet too succumbs to his advances, deciding that his newfound libido must be an effect of either his carriage or the foreign matter he was exposed to on Earth. The medic prescribes a new nightly routine to ease his restlessness. Prowl easily obliges, dropping to his knees and slobbering all over Ratchet’s spike and valve, desperately swallowing every drop of transfluid he’s given as he absentmindedly strokes his rounded tummy.

The higher his charge is, the more his processor feels like it’s full of warm cotton. He can't help but chase the feeling, unconsciously seeking out anything and everything that might make him feel the way the Unmaker, his mate, made him feel. He takes Ratchet’s spike with ease and overloads untouched the first time it hits the back of his throat, whining like a cheap pleasurebot the second the medic pulls out of his intake. Of course, he calmly leaves Ratchet’s habsuite and returns to business as usual once their appointment ends.

Optimus is the last to give in, too overcome with guilt and horror at Prowl’s condition to participate in his debasement. To see his strong, sharp, proud advisor so easily reduced to a desperate, shameless, spikeslut after selflessly carrying out a Prime’s responsibility… Optimus lays awake at night, trying in vain to ignore the lewd whimpers and squeals from the room beside him; Every single night like a turbofox in heat. He can only imagine what Prowl’s doing in there…

He finally snaps one night, be it out of guilt, pity, or plain temptation. It's easy enough to justify in his head; This is all Optimus’s fault, Prowl’s only like this because he couldn’t carry out his sworn duty. The least Prime can do now is help him out…

ik I said birth in p2, but I got carried away! I promise I’ll do a p3 if you want it <3

-🦴

hrghh that's okay, I love this. Unicron completely changed Prowl, all he can think of is the drag of something wet and thick over his internal calipers… His forge is so full and his valve is always so wet. He needs transfluid in his forge, he needs it like he needs energon, he can't live without spikes. Optimus feels so bad… No Prime has ever come back from their wedding night with Unicron pregnant, it just had to happen this time, when Optimus shrunk his duties and sent his friend in his place… Prowl has been changed, maybe traumatized, and Optimus doesn't know what else to do other than help him in any way he can…

He catches Prowl furiously riding a toy spike, like he does every night, and finally offers to help him… After all, Optimus can't stand his unsatisfied whines. 

[duckymcdoorknob]

𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝔂 11: 𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓼/𝓝𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮𝓼

FIRST ONE PIECE FIC EVER LESGOOOOO

HEHE LUFFY MY GOOBY

I WANTED TO TRY TO KEEP ZORO IN CHARACTER SO SORRY IF ITS INNACURATE

IM GONNA MAKE IT YALL IDC IM GONNA GET THESE WRITTEN

Tags: @chrimsss @switch-writer @giggly-squiggily @trrickytickle

—ngl this do have tickles under the cut—

If there was one thing that bothered Luffy about his vice captain, it was his drowsiness. Zoro was ALWAYS sleeping, especially during the times when Luffy most wanted him awake.

On a slow day, the straw-hatted captain wanted nothing more than to bother Zoro. He jumped up about the ship, trying hard to find the green-haired male.

When he found the swordsman, the latter was snoozing on the deck.

“Zoooorooooo!” The captain whined as he lay down next to the sleeping man. “Wake up!”

No response was given to Luffy, albeit a small snore.

The straw-hatted captain pouted as he sat up. There had to be something he could do…

In one swift movement, the black-haired male prostrated himself on Zoro’s back, hoping the added pressure would wake him.

To his luck, the sleeping vice captain barely even acknowledged it. He simply sighed in a breath and exhaled gently.

Luffy pushed all of his weight onto his torso, deducing that maybe that pressure would wake him.

Again, it did not.

Now, he was stumped.

In a fit of frustration he bit down on Zoro’s shoulder. Not too hard, but (hopefully) enough for there to be an impact.

Zoro’s eyes opened and his brows furrowed angrily. “Can I help you?”

Luffy’s eyes had stars in them as he smiled widely. He threw his arms around the swordsman’s neck. “Zorooooo! Come play a game with me!”

“That’s what you woke me up for? Seriously?”

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Come on! Nami said she was too busy, and Usopp doesn’t like my games… he’s a little scaredy cat.”

A muted “hey!” was heard from the other end of the ship…

“See I would, but I’m just sooooooo tired.” The green-haired male slurred as he started to close his eyes once more, a small smile of mischief making its way to his features.

“Nooooo! I wanna play a game! Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

Zoro fake snored rather loudly, quite literally a “honk shoo.”

Pouting, Luffy bit down on Zoro’s shoulder again, resulting in the fake snores coming to a grinding halt. “Jesus, Luffy. What are you- NGH-“

“I’m gonna bite you until you say you’ll play with me!”

“That’s ridiculous! Ask someone else T- HNG- To p-play with y-you.”

“No! I don’t care that I’m hurting you! You make me mad!”

“You aren’t hurting me, kid. Nothing you do can hurt me, just have sensi-tive… shoulders… is all….”

A light went off in the straw-hatted captain’s head. “Ohhhh sensitive huh?”

“Don’t you dare- L-Luffy! D-Mph! D-Don’t do that.”

The black-haired pirate sank his teeth into the man’s shoulder, adding obnoxious “om nom nom” sounds.

The swordsman’s teeth were gritted as his breaths became uneven. A dopey grin found its way to his features as he squeezed his eyes shut. “L-Lu-Luhuhuffy-“

“Haha! Big bad Zoro’s ticklish!” A voice chimed from outside of the kitchen door.

An attempt to glare at the blonde chef ended in a snort when the captain’s teeth sank into his upper back. “W-Would you q-quihihit that.”

A little gremlin laugh from behind him answered his question.

Maybe he should’ve just played a game with Luffy after all…

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[russet-writing]

“Look at them… Look at them, Whumpee.” Whumper snarls against their ear. “Is this what you fucking want?”

Whumpee doesn’t reply— They can’t. Before, they had been struggling with all their might: grinding their heels against the rain-slicked ground, clawing at the unforgiving hand gripping them by the scruff of their neck.

But now…? Now they were frozen. And their eyes, wide as saucers, were locked on the person lying on the shed floor. Only… calling it a person was almost laughable. It was a mere lump on the floor. The stumps of what used to be its limbs were disfigured, scars that had improperly healed. The small patches of skin visible from underneath its tattered blanket were painted with ugly bruises and deep lacerations… some had scarred over, others looked “fresh”. Undoubtedly infected, but new. The sight of this person— this thing that had once been human— curled up in this ramshackle shed.

The words die in their throat… The fight in Whumpee drains.

“Do you know how easily this could be you?” Whumper continues, ragged panting having settled into slow, trembling breaths. “Do you know how much restraint it takes to be patient when you act like a fucking child?” They catch Whumpee roughly by the jaw, forcing them to crane their neck to make eye contact.

Their next words are a whisper, deadly and demanding.

“If you try some shit like that one more time… you will end up just like them…” Their eyes search Whumpee’s intensely as if daring them to slip up, make a mistake. “Do you understand me?”

A breathless beat.

“I understand.”

“Good.” Their jaw is released and Whumpee’s knees nearly give out. But Whumper had already settled their attention on the heap of flesh in front of them, one hand reaching for their pocketknife. “Now get back inside… I need to relieve some stress.”

[chrisstumps05]

How to get rid of a bunch of small stumps?

[caesariawritesstuff]

The Easy Ones

Summary: Edward's puzzles are only meant for the Dark Knight - so imagine his surprise when you come solving them instead.

Content Warning: Angst & Spying

Word Count: 753

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

His plan was perfect. Edward had spent weeks working on every trophy, every riddle, every puzzle and quizzical conundrum. There was no way the Dark Knight would beat him this time. He’d gone over each and every equation with precision. He’d studied the bothersome detective’s toolbelt, gadgets, and arsenal a hundred times over. There was nothing – absolutely nothing – that would stop his plan.

So, when his computer pinged with a notification, alerting him that someone had come near one of his puzzles, his eyes raised up and excitement raced through his veins. Yes, this was it – this was finally the time he’d get to see the Dark Knight stumped. Edward gripped his desk tightly, his knuckles turning white. He couldn’t wait to see the slow look of dawning defeat on that stupid Bat’s face. The sheer, utter disappointment of realizing he’d been bested by Edward Nigma, the Riddler, of all people!

But to his surprise, it was not the Dark Knight at all.

In fact, it was you. Edward frowned, his brows furrowed. What have we here? he wondered. This wasn’t part of his plan.

He sat back in his seat, some of the tension loosening in his shoulders. Unexpected variables made his stomach twist in knots. He’d spent too long designing this carefully crafted conundrum to watch it be ruined by some insolent little pest. It was no matter, however. You would give up eventually; there was no way you were smart enough to solve his puzzles.

A small smirk touched the corners of his mouth as he watched you examine everything he’d set in place. Watched the quizzical look of confusion appear on your expression. But to his absolute, utter shock – you turned on your heels and quickly finagled with the few buttons and gizmos laid out, and the little cage around his trophy opened.

“What? You solved it?” he screamed, jumping to his feet. “No, no, no. That wasn’t for you, you little pest.”

He grinded his teeth together. That was for the Dark Knight. Everything was ruined; how was Edward going to best the Batman when he was one puzzle short? He collapsed back into his seat and ran a hand through his hair, sucking in a breath. It was no matter. He had dozens of backup trophies on hand, it could be replenished. All he needed was one of his goons to go out and get the job done.

He shouted for one of his men to come in, and when they had, he gave the orders. When the thug was left, he returned his attention to the monitor. You were gone now, finally. He searched the next set of monitors in hopes of the Dark Knight. Wondering when the bothersome bat would come solving one of his queries.

Then, there was another ping and the same excitement rushed through him. But his eyes strayed to one of the dozen monitors before him and his frown deepened.

There you were again. His trophy in your hands, cradled against you like a prized possession. Irritation flickered in his veins and he crossed his arms.

“There’s no way you can get lucky twice,” he said aloud. “No one is smart enough to solve another of my puzzles.”

He watched you move about the several different contraptions, studying them. If you were smarter, you’d have solved it by now. This puzzle wasn’t even that hard; perhaps you truly did possess only one braincell. His frown slowly curved into a smile as your shoulders slumped in defeat, as it looked as though you were finally going to give up. His pride swelled deep within his chest.

No one outsmarts me, he thought. But just as quickly as it passed through his mind, you stomped forward and pressed each button on the contraptions in the right order – and the little cage sprang open once more, revealing his trophy inside.

“No,” Edward said, slamming his hands down on his desk, causing the monitors to rattle. Rage flickered in his stomach, spreading through him like wildfire. Another one of his precious trophies in your greedy, grubby hands.

How dare you think you could out best him. Slowly, he sank bank into his seat, eyes narrowing as he watched your next move. It was no matter, there was no way you’d solve a third. You’d only gotten lucky twice, yes of course, that’s all it was. There was simply no way you were smart enough to solve a third.

After all, those were the easy ones.

[gogotti]

Bloodhound x reader nsfw, similar to the caustic fic w orgasm denial I LOVE YOUR WORK PLS

This took forever and I'm so sorry, but life hit me with the "let's change the subject" bat, and I lost interest in Apex for a hot ass minute. but anyways

BLOODHOUND/READER - NSFW

Warnings: none really but the fic includes NSFW, orgasm denial, gender-neutral reader, no mention of Bloodhound's genitals, (which is also what made this fic take so long cause it took me forever to realize I could just do that.)

You looked over at Bloodhound as you stepped outside, a mischievous grin coming to your face almost immediately. They had been training all day, which wasn't uncommon, and you coming out to join them wasn't unusual either. You enjoyed watching them practice. It allowed you to stare at their muscles, which gave you plenty of material for those long seasons they were away busy with the games. Normally, you would sit by and watch, but with how well they'd been doing in the games, you figured it was time for a well-deserved break. You sat on a stump nearby and watched as Hound released their last arrow from the Bocek, landing what you counted to be their 4th bullseye. You smiled and spoke up, watching that red tint from their eyes slowly fade as they registered your voice.

“You should teach me to be as well off with a bow as you are.”

They walked over, touching your forehead with their mask as a kiss, and grabbed another bow they had prepared and handed it to you. Their eyes squinted slightly, meaning they were smiling at you behind the mask. “I would be honored, Elska.”

You stood and walked with them to the small patch of off-colored grass and huffed at it. Hound noticed and spoke, “I will get to placing the stone on this spot soon enough. For now, we practice.” You laughed, “Don't you think you need a break? You stand in this spot so much that the grass isn't green anymore.” They shook their head, and you already knew what they were going to say, so you simply sighed, feigning defeat for your request.

They positioned themselves behind you and you pressed yourself as close to their chest as possible, hearing a sudden inhale from them in response. You knew that showing interest in their training and hobbies made them very happy, so you already had a bit of a headstart, but you had a trick up your sleeve and you couldn't help but smirk at the thought of their excitement when you showed it off.

Thankfully Hound didn't notice as they continued positioning you in proper archery form, answering each question you asked, even if some had self-explanatory answers. You made sure to drag on the explanation part so you could let your plan slowly unfold, and you acted innocent when they would stop explaining to take a breath because your subtle grinding against them was doing much more than you originally anticipated.

When they had finally explained everything they thought necessary, you were allowed to shoot your first arrow. You pretended to struggle a bit before releasing arrow after arrow, each landing smack-dab in the center. You turned, a giant smile on your face as you watched Hound’s eyes flick from you to the target and back. You knew they were feeling something now as they stuttered a bit before letting out a breathy, “Wow, Elska.”

They stood frozen in their spot as you approached them, letting the bow gently rest on the ground. You place your hands on their chest and smile at them, “So, I think we should take a break. I am exhausted after all that training.”

They didn't respond, instead, they let you guide them to the stump you were sitting on earlier and stood in front of you. You leaned up and kissed their mask once, then moved down to their neck, kissing and nipping at all of the skin there. You let your hand trail downward and into their pants, letting them grind down onto your palm and you smiled at the muffled huffs coming from their mask.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?

They let out a muffled, “Mhm”, and you smiled, leaning away from their neck to see their face for a moment. You were glad that you did because as soon as you made eye contact with them you watched their eyes roll to the back of their head and their body twitch toward you. You watched as they started to grind down harder, eventually grabbing onto you and pulling you closer.

They whined, “Please, Elska…”, and they looked at you desperately. You knew they were close, but you weren't ready for this to end yet, especially since it just started. You didn't realize how pent-up they had been, so your previous grinding had done much, much more than you had thought. You slowly began to pull your hand away as they got closer to cumming and they quickly caught on, grabbing your hand and holding it in their strong grip.

“Elska, I need this please.” They continued to grind down onto your hand, but you kept pulling away. You were worried that they were gonna cum before you had your fun, so you forcefully pulled your hand away, watching Hound go limp with defeat. Hound practically growled at the lack of contact and slowly turned it into a whine because of the denial. They looked up at you, and you knew they had tears in their eyes, so you kissed the top of their head.

“I wanna have fun too Houndy, but I promise you'll get to cum once I have. Okay?”

You smiled at them, and they couldn't do anything but mumble an “Okay..” and follow you into the cabin you shared.

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

5 - The Worm Laughs

So, you know that bit in the previous chapter that was literally about not using a crown if you aren’t at your personal peak?

Yeah…

count the memes I dare you

---

[First] / [Prev] / [Next]

Wrow. Wrow! WROW—! WROWROWROW— WROOOOOOOOW!!!!

FLYING WAS SO MUCH BETTER THAN DIGGING!!!

Heart pounding, feet kicking, his claws grabbed the branches and flung him at the sky. Mouth open, bird in sights—

And the CRUNCH!!

His landings were never (Wrow!) good. But bouncing into the forest (Wrowwro!) floor never phased him either, the snap-snarl-shine (Wroro—!) of his crown ricocheting him from tree to (Wowoworr!!) tree was almost more fun than the flying that started it!

“Ehe—eheeh! Heheha!”

He came to a rolling, tumbling stop, flopping over tree roots and kicking his feet as his tail stretched long and his spine gave a loud pop!. He swiped away the feathers caught between his dripping teeth on a furry wrist.

The worm was used to the smell of himself, but knew better than to let the blood dry and get itchy and sticky on his fur. He crunched the fragile bird with his big teeth, pulling the pulp further into his gullet where the small teeth could grind and grind and grind, the vibration making his head tickle as he rolled off the root and scampered under brush and leaf and over rock and stump.

Good summer sunshine, hot summer wind, best summer weather. Summer better than winter, which was short and dark and full of sleeping. Winter less fun than spring, with the fresh shoots and sweet roots and plenty of little eggs and tiny critters. Spring nicer than fall, despite the sweet fruit and the nesting leaves and the fat fish and the sleepy hares and burrowing toads.

Summer. Summer the best of all. And this was the worm’s sixth summer.

He lifted his head and sniffed through the heat, something new on his pallet that he didn’t like. Sour, like bad blood left in the sun, hurt like thorns in the throat. Bad, but the same direction as water. Fresh water by the sound, sweet and crisp, good for washing and splashing and fish. Thin summer fish still better than no fish at all. Something silent beyond the water. Not enough noise in that direction. Same way as the smell. Odd. Wrong. Bad.

But different. Different meant new and interesting and fun and for eating.

And if it was not for eating, then there was the crown, and the crown made things fun fun.

Nice feathers the worm tucked into leaves, broad and cut with his claws to fold into layers, tougher than normal leaves, and not the best for eating. He’d seen woven leaves on other worms (fought them too). He’d seen pretty things on other walking beasts (fought them too). These feathers were nice, so he wrapped them in the leaves, and slipped the leaves in his belt (not fought this, made this), and took off running through the forest, up the tree, across the branches, and leaped!

“Wroworow!!”

He knew the right path through the branches, flashing through the canopy and counting shards of blue summer sky as he went. Eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two, eighty-one! He counted down from a hundred. Last year he had counted down from twenty, but this year he would count down from a hundred.

The ants had taught him counting when he burrowed into their hill for winter. They had tried to eat him, but he had eaten them instead until they walled him away. So, he ate their food, and slept in their hill, and in the spring they had told him they would not try to eat him if he did not try to eat them and that they liked his crown and wanted to know what he liked too. And he had almost said food, but he had seen the paper in the ant’s hands, and he had not smelled a smell like the marks on the paper (paper is just wood with the tasty bits washed out, not good for eating).

The ants had taught him counting, and wording, and in return he had not eaten the ants. Instead, he had eaten the other ants that tried coming into the hill when he was learning counting. He had eaten fifteen and a half other-ants before they ran away.

Then his ants had given him something white and wispy and more than food and better than counting and it tickled more than the hardest bones and sweeter than the ripest fruit. And it had closed his wounds, and dulled his pain, and cleared his sleep, and sated, for once, his hunger.

He liked spending winter with the ants. He got to sleep in the warm and the dark and grow more arms and more fur and eat more other-ants if they woke him up. He got to counting and wording and making, like his belt and his purse, and the little metal clasps on the belt and the purse that only his ants could make.

He liked the ants.

He liked flying too.

Across the branch, dash the length, claws dug deep, arms flung wide—“Wroweeee!!”

Into the bright sunlight and above the sparkling water and the grey river rocks and through the waterfall mists and under the ugly oak’s nose? Ugly oak??

Nose???

The worm landed on his head in the water and trumpeted alarm, claws flexing in the cold as he spun his body down, touched his toes to the rocks, and sprung back up.

The water was fast, the falls right behind him (safe falls, had fallen many times, easy squishy rocks for crown to bounce off) as he bobbed like a clump of leaves under the mammoth snout of a wooden beast resting over his river. The nose was dripping with moss and ferns, attached to a face broad as a hill and sprouted with an oak tree, a massive oak tree, a mountain of an oak tree that went back and up and high too far for the worm to see all the way to the top. The canopy stretched too far, not too far for the horizon but too far for a tree.

The face of the tree was marked with a gold halo around its brow, pulsing with light like the sun if the sun was sterile and blinding and bad.

The water carried him over the falls, and the sleeping oak did not see him. He flopped like floatsam on the rocks below, curling himself up and kicking through the white rapids, for once not enjoying the bubbles tickling his belly or fizzing at his mouth.

He only got a few strokes away from the falls when he had to kick hard and dive.

There was a new rock in the river, attached to the ugly oak. Not a foot, more a toe, a boulder of swollen burl that blocked his river and sent the water screaming at a sharp bend and carried him with it. He slammed his back into it with a gurgle, toes curled to keep his claws from nicking the bark as the water pulled him along.

The sweet water was bitter and gross where it touched the ugly oak, and two more harsh diversions later the worm had enough and kicked his way to shore, retching at the unholy ichor bleeding into his river.

“Worm?”

“Oh, Worm!!”

Voices and the pleasure of devotion pulled him into the tree line, and a moment later he was looking up at Caterpillar and Dave, who looked exactly like Caterpillar but was called Dave. They were both worms like him.

He pointed back at the river. “The fuck?”

“Real bad,” said Dave.

“Champion Oak,” said Caterpillar. “Seven-toed Oak.”

“Trees don’t have toes,” the worm said. Trees also didn’t show up in one day, or one night, and become bigger than mountains. “Do they?”

“Oak does,” Caterpillar said. “Can we eat it?”

“Tastes bad,” he said, and let his tongue unroll from his gullet, wiping the aftertaste of ichor off on his fur.

“Oh well,” sighed Caterpillar.

“Guess we’ll die,” agreed Dave.

“What? No.” That was stupid. The worm was dumb but he was not stupid. “Oak got here. We can get oak to go away.”

They laughed at him, but they also wept that aroma he couldn’t smell and filled him with the flavor he couldn’t taste. His bones felt stronger and fur thicker and claws sharper.

“We? No way,” said Caterpillar.

“Me then,” the worm decided. And the feeling got stronger, the devotion seeped into his teeth. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it?” Dave asked, pushing the fur out of their blue eyes.

“I’ll do it,” the worm decided.

Dave’s eyes went pearly white, and the vibration that built in their gullet rocked them so hard they made a purr the other worms hadn’t heard before. Listening to it, leaning into it, feeding from it, felt so good.

“Okay, you do it,” Dave said. “Get a name first.”

“Why?”

“Gotta tell the Queen after, right?”

This was so complicated. He could have just eaten Dave but Dave smelled too sweet for eating.

“Ant Queen calls me latchkey.” Because it was a thing in ant tunnels made of metal that click-clacked, and he liked the click-clack, even if his ants didn’t like if he click-clacked the clickity-clack when they weren’t with him to clackity-click it after.

“Lackshee?” Slurred Dave, because Dave was stupid.

“Leshky,” tried Caterpillar, who was dumb.

“Close enough,” decided Leshy, who didn’t know why anyone would tell his ant queen anything after he got rid of the ugly oak ruining his river.

It was easy to do. (<- recommended song)

He just went around the Oak first, because it was big, and he counted all the toes, which were more than seven of, and he counted the branches when he got bored on the long flight back to his ants. And his ants were very scared because something very heavy and big with bad roots had destroyed half their outer compounds and was very close to their main entrance and this was bad for some reason although Leshy had counted and they still forty-seven other entrances.

“It’s summer,” he said. “Gimmie metal.”

His ants didn’t want to give him metal, they didn’t like giving metal to anyone, not even him, not even for pretty feathers or woven leaves or when he ate one of them.

“Hmm. Need metal,” he said, disappointed that his ants still tasted like normal ants, pulpy without crunchy and sour instead of sweet. He looked up at his ants’ queen. “What you want for metal?”

“You’d have to get it yourself, Green Crown.”

“Leshy,” he corrected, forgetting to really chew that last leg and hacking it back up for his teeth again. “Where’s metal?”

Ant Queen shook her head. “Far too deep for us to tunnel with this current crisis over our heads!”

Leshy stopped eating the ant leg, stared at his ant queen, and realized she was stupid.

“Okay.”

He put his claws into the floor and dug. He went right through (wrow!) the ceiling of the main ventilation shaft and crown-bounced his way down several meters before finding purchase and tunnelling again. He listened to Mother this time until he reached Warehouse 7-N, because 7-N was too big to bother going around and there was only harvested chitin and glass stored there so it was fine.

He dug until he found stone, startling Mother. She helped him sniff out his ants’ tunnel, and here he used his sharpened claws and strengthened teeth to dig rock instead of dirt. The crown was warm on his head, and made the grinding rumble in his head like a little song he could sing while chewing. He decided that as long as it was still summer when he was finished then this would work.

He brought the stone that tasted different and more like metal back to his ant queen, and told her: “Make metal, I gotta get rid of the Oak.”

Stunned, they asked how he would do it and he told them, so they made the ore into metal. They formed the metal into nails like his, to make it easier. One hundred nails, so he could count them.

One of his ants was dumb and thought he wanted to tie metal nails to his nails, and he said no, but they said why not? And he said:

“Don’t care. Do what you want. Are you done? Gimmie.”

His ants’ eyes were full of white, and Leshy could hear more than he’d ever heard in his life, from the pupae in the nursery two levels down to the ant queen pacing in her chamber above him. He wanted to shed his skin and get bigger, stronger, wormier.

“Come back safe,” his ants prayed. A lot of them. In the converted warehouse 2-H. He breathed in all the air and felt all the feelings and now he would get bigger, he just didn’t know how.

It was still summer when he left his ants.

The Ugly Oak was right over their hill.

Best way to kill a tree was to eat the roots, but these roots were bad, so blegh. Second best was this way, when the air was hot and humid, the best for foraging, but dangerous for flying.

Leshy flew anyway.

Trees don’t care about worms. Big trees don’t care about nails either.

Turns out, they do care about little green crowns worn by little green worms who stick little black nails into their bark. And he had one hundred nails, so he put them in a lot of branches, three and four and sometimes more, bashed in with a rock.

The ugly oak was too big to feel the nails; it was the bashing that woke them up.

[W-H-O-D-A-R-E-S-?]

Leshy didn’t say shit. He was a pile of leaves, among the leaves, being a leaf. Stupid worm on a dumb oak, a dumb oak who was too bloated-huge-gross-big to feel one worm who weighed as much as a worm carrying sixty-four iron nails.

It was getting dark. This was good. A bit of night time dark, but more of the bad time for flying dark.

The wind was blowing. It was blowing more and more, tearing off the Ugly Oak’s leaves, making the smaller branches sway, and forming a crack in their old boughs that Leshy found and drove a line of nails from the dry bark down to the bitter flesh.

[C-U-R-S-E-S-O-F-T-H-E-G-R-E-E-N-E-Y-E-D-Q-U-E-E-N-U-P-O-N-T-H-E-E-W-O-R-M-!-!-!]

“Uh-oh.”

This was hard to do. Now the branches kept moving, and sometimes breaking, and the acorns popped open with hornets and spiders and squirrels and mice and centipedes. Leshy would have eaten a few of them but he was too busy running, scratching, climbing, flying away from all that.

The wind was scattered, left, up, away, in, around. The sky was getting louder, the first spits of summer rain flying cold in his face.

Every jump he put his weight into a nail, driving them in. Didn’t matter where: dead wood, living, any, just wood or leaf or litter. He jumped seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three times, counting and ducking, dodging and driving, and decided he had too much metal.

Crossing the Ugly Oak’s halo was the dumbest thing his stupid worm self ever did. He’d thought he was on the back of the canopy, not the face, and when he jumped—

[T-H-E-I-F-O-F-D-I-V-I-N-I-T-Y-!-!-!]

His crown went hot cold hot hot cold. He screamed, claws splitting to the quick as his bones wracked and his fur tore and he fell thirty, forty, fifty feet.

No ricochet, just smashed bones and torn skin and fear, real fear, horrible bad awful scary fear.

But he broke his body on the ugly oak’s ugly ass fucking nose, and had to laugh at that.

He rolled his bleeding body over, all his inner fruits and bones mucked up as a meal for a baby worm on the ground somewhere, and grinned with his blue blood leaking past his teeth.

He wiggled his broken claws.

“Hi.”

The Ugly Oak’s two eyes were massive as moonpools, glowing yellow like twin suns if the sun had a twin that was ugly as a worm’s ass and pulsed like an overweight pupa.

But the best way to kill a tree was eat its roots.

“Bye.”

Second best was fire. From the sky.

Lots of sky-fire in summer.

The sky broke. Lightning forked hot and delicious toward tidbits of iron sitting in dry summer wood. Lightning riddled patterns in flesh and sand, hence why ants live underground, and where ants get glass. Ants are stupid but they’d not dumb.

Lightning ate iron, traveled through wooden flesh, and found more iron.

Mother’s bounty drove the sky mad and caught the Ugly Oak in its jaws. The ants saw it happen from their observation deck. Caterpillar and Dave had already told Snuff and Sniff and Snarl and Jake. The hornets witnessed everything.

[D-E-V-I-L-!-!]

Leshy laughed on his back on the Ugly Oak’s nose. He clicked his broken claws and gnashed his bloody teeth. He watched the piss-yellow eyes of the Seven-Toed Oak roll and burst in its big ugly head, smoke venting from its screaming mouth as its oldest boughs sheered off.

Flames roared up from its heartwood core. The sap sang pop! Pop! Hiss! And filled the air with sweet. The bitter ichor burned green and purple and white.

[D-D-E-A-M-O-N-!-!]

“Leshy,” the worm corrected.

When their dying face tilted, he rolled off their ugly nose, landed in his river, and floated away.

[Next] <- When it's done. (May 31st)

So mad about the end of last chapter because I was like “this is an incredible moment to introduce Leshy” but then I remembered I haven’t given them Heket. >:(

[alterlove2021]

Chapter 4 titled ‘the etymology of oblivion’ is now up from my new @skambigbang 2023 fic! I hope you like it! @mazarin01 photography continues to visualize the story in beautiful detail. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t call out my beta @claire.loved.books who has been there every step of the way, helping nurture this story into being. Here’s a teaser for you:

“What do you want?” he growls before pulling back to look Isak square in the eye.

The question stumps Isak. “I… I don’t know,” he answers honestly as he worries his lip raw under the heat of that stare. It is suddenly all very real, very here, very now.

“Have you been with a guy before?” Yeah. Of course. One guy.

“Yeah. Of course. Lots of times.”

“Okay, Mr. Lots-of-times…” he smirks.

The stranger feels good, the parts of him pressed up against Isak feel good. Those very same parts that are now rhythmically grinding into him feel very good. Isak’s eyes close, even though he couldn’t see much in the shadowy interior of the small space. With his eyes shut, it is easier to pretend it is someone else kissing him, grinding up against him. Lighting up his body in a way that won’t betray his true feelings to this stranger. He moans softly, his mind taking over, imagining someone else pressing him against the wall. Those thoughts help to push away the twinge of uncertainty that had started to take root in the pit of his stomach, right alongside some slow burning nausea.

[kiraixi]

Bad kitty, Billy!

nsfw : ao3

It was that time of year.

Steve was a responsible owner, honest! But sometimes Billy really got out of hand.

Especially in his heat.

Billy would be such a good kitty normally and Steve just learnt to deal with it, only a week of frantic behaviour compared to a year of bliss was something he could handle right?

Wrong.

For some reason this time Billy decided to take his frustration out on Steve. He was used to Billy holeling up somewhere in the house, the only indication of his presence from the ever depleting food stores, but now?

Billy was insistent, constantly rubbing against him ever after being shooed. Sticking his tail up in front of Steve’s nose and constantly yowling. He was really stumped on what to do.

Grabbing the kitty by the collar Steve tickles his chin, “Billy, do you want me to call another cat in?”

A vigorous shake from Billy followed by the most heartbroken blue eyes “Only want master…” He flicks his tail and flutters his eyes for effect.

That’s new. Sure it’s not uncommon to have a relation with your hybrid, but Billy’s never really indicated interest from Steve before.

Surprise colours his voice, “You’ve never asked before, sweetheart.” He reaches out, scratching behind the kitty’s ear.

And Billy just melts into his hand, ears perked slightly forward and purring like a motor.

He looks up through his lashes “Before was shy.”

“You were shy before, baby? Didn’t want Masters help?”

He whines desperately, rubbing his head up and down Steve’s arm.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve got you now.”

Steve and Billy have been companions since childhood. After finding him wounded behind their garage, he fought tooth and nail till his parents let him keep the hybrid. Steve’s always had a slight crush on the cream cat and only grew over the years.

He grips both Billy’s thighs pulling the blonde into his lap. Billy takes the liberty to grind down a little, making him groan.

Steve’s impatient, needs to feel Billy skin on skin now.

Grabbing at the other’s shirt he pulls it off to fondle at the exposed tits, gorgeous in all their tanned beauty. Lavishing many kisses and bites around his chest, Billy responds by nuzzling Steve’s neck and lapping at his ear making the area cold and sensitive to every pant and moan elicited from Billy.

“Steve”

He rocks harder up and down Steve’s thigh, hands gripping into his arms, claws tearing at his shirt. It turns painful so Steve takes both arms and interlocks them behind his neck with a– “Hands up here precious.”

Steve’s own wander down Billy’s bare torso caressing every crevice and divot, running up and down that practically slutty waist. Billy’s face is flushed red, small whines music to his ears compared to the earlier noises.

He reaches for the lube located between the seat and undoes his slacks. Stroking himself a few times to fullness and groupes at the full globes of Billy’s ass. So plush they must be a blessing from above. Slips one finger inside and pays close attention to the way Billy’s lashes clump together with unshed tears squirming for more..

“C’mon Stevie, I need-!”

And Steve can’t deny when his kitty begs so pretty. Lines himself up and maunvers Billy to lower onto his cock, the other letting out a relieved sigh once bottoming out.

“Are you satisfied kitten?” He puts a hand over Billy’s stomach feeling the small bump from his dick, he’s always been above average. Billy responds with pants and high pitched moans, gripping his neck hard.

“You ready love?”

Billy nods desperation clear on his face “Please, Steve!”

Goes sweet and soft once Steve thrusts upwards, drooling on his shoulder. Tail wrapping around his leg and arms tightening, clinging on for dear life.

They go many rounds until Steve can give no more and Billy is a ball of purring content above him. He strokes the kitten, cooing and kissing him over and over, repeating what a good boy he was for Master. Billy responds with a cute little smile and cuddles closer.

It’s a great afternoon spent together

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Been seeing a lot of dmc5se art (I'm too much of an anxious coward to tag them, sorry) lately and, some times, they draw Dante (and others) in the style of MLP. So, I thought it would be fun to draw as well! It's been an EXTREMELY long time since I've drawn MLP styled stuff (or drawn traditionally for that matter) so it's a bit rough (and stiff) but *shrugs* it was fun.

Forgive the poor picture quality, my phone's focus doesn't work right-- it's a feisty bitch and I hate it lmfao Also my handwriting is horrible, sorry lmao (Rambling about this idea below because I have been suffering brain rot over this)

Putting in my two cents on the idea, I think that Sparda (and his descendants) would have a white coat and blank flank (which is covered by their coats).

Sparda would obviously be a demon pony. I think that his "human" or in this case "pony" form would be of an earth pony with a hint of batpony. He'd want to blend in the best he can. He's too bulky to pass as a pegasus and would have an odd shaped horn if he tried to pass as a unicorn. The hint of batpony is because of his ears and eyes. Even with this however, he can still use magic and fly--which looks strange to say the least, an earth pony that's able to do other races things... Freaky.

Eva would be a unicorn, curved ribbed horn, hoof tufts, fluffy ears, and a "classic" type tail. (Not much else to say)

Vergil and Dante would both me earth ponies. However, they each would have devil/demon horns--that are the same as their Devil Trigger. Despite not having a unicorn horn, however, they can use magic. (which adds to the "wtf" factor the whole Sparda family has).

Dante would have a set of two (four in total) (pictured above) horns that curve downwards; which he trims/grinds down then covers the remaining stumps with his mane. Before you ask: yes, this hurts. He's grinding down something that has blood and tissue in it (like most animal horns do) but he's stubborn. The youngest twin inherited his father's body type (or well, fake body's type): a thicker more stocky build. The one major thing from Eva he has is fluffy ears. His tail he keeps trimmed close to his flank because it's a disadvantage in a fight (and a pain to take care of).

PRE NELO ANGELO: Vergil has a fully grown set of horns (two in total) that curve upwards and are more developed/tougher than Dante's--since he doesn't trim them. Oppisite his twin, Vergil inherited Eva's body type: long "traditional" unicorn tail, hoof tufts, slimmer build. The one thing he did not inherit from her is the ear fluff, having his father's batpony structure instead. POST NELO ANGELO: Vergil's horns are snapped in half. Unable to grow them back, he keeps them nearly sanded to a smooth edge. His tail is gone, only have a scar where it did attach before. His hoof fluff takes some time to grow back. V: Skinny earth pony that's white with black faded stocking marks. His front hooves have fluff and he has no tail. His ears are normal. V has his tattoos all over his body except his flank. URIZEN: Didn't want to exclude him but there's not much to say. He'd look like a rooted version of post Nelo Angelo Vergil. Maybe he'd look closer to a changeling? Not sure. His design is something that I would have to play with and try out before deciding.

Trish looks almost the exact same as Eva, however, the major difference is her horn has no ribs. It's a smooth curved horn.

Lady would be a hypogriff (Arkam would be a griffon). Again, not much to say.

Nero would be an earth pony with very little different (otherwise it would've been overly obvious that he wasn't normal). His back hooves have tufts and he has a longer--but not extremely long--base for his tail. His ears are fluffier, but not too much (and not bat texture). His devil bringer would be akin to a griffon's front claws; talons and whatnot. POST "Awakening" (learning to Trigger): Nero does have small horns that curve around his ears; just like his DT's (almost like a ram). He also gains the ability to use "magic" and levitate/hover/glide despite not having a horn or wings.

Sorry that was a lot... But it seriously has been just stuck in my head. Might doodle more of this at some point, might not; I don't know yet. This was really odd and strangely comforting to go back to. Most of my art pre-2020 was MLP styled (even though I had lost interest in the show WAY before that. Just got used to drawing it and was, not to pat myself on the ass, pretty good at it... but I never shared like 99% of it.)

okay I'll shut up now lol

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