THIS IS SO GOOD HOLY SHIT - Tumblr Posts
Again, absolutely perfect! I love how you write so much! ^^
(Quick note, nardo is embarrassingly weak when it comes to puppy dog eyes)
More crossover shenanigans, because being able to write silly drabbles like this is great for scratching that writing itch, and @lukas6246 is amazing for letting me play with their blorbos. Peepaw Leon and little brother Leo are theirs, Eshra is mine.
Of course they met while shopping for clothes.
"That color would look great on you."
The rumbling baritone nearly makes Eshra drop the length of fabric he's been examining and look up in surprise, his shoulders tensing and his crest flaring on instinct. Usually he's more aware of his surroundings, but apparently he's been focusing so hard on whether or not he likes the shimmery white wrap that he hasn't even noticed the approach of the, uh… Woah.
Eshra looks up. And up. And up some more. The yokai(?) standing next to him is huge in all senses of the word, easily over seven feet tall and built to match, with lime green skin and a… a shell on his back? Eshra takes a step back, both to put a little distance between them and get better idea of what he's looking at.
A turtle, he realizes. There's a giant, bipedal, talking turtle standing next to him, browsing the clothing racks without a care in the world. The Hidden City really does have everything.
"You think so?" Eshra drops his gaze back to the cloth in his hands, and that's when he spots the pair of eyes narrowed suspiciously at him from around the giant turtle-man's shell. He leans back just a bit to get a clearer view, and his brow ridges lift when he sees those eyes belong to a miniature version of the big guy. His kid?
As though oblivious to the impromptu staring contest going on behind him, Big Turtle replies, "Sure, it'll stand out really well with your feathers." Bold as you please, he plucks the wrap from Eshra's fingers and holds it against the iridescent blue and green feathers adorning his arm. "See? And it goes all rainbow-y when the light hits it. It'll look great."
"Leon." That comes from Little Turtle, who is still watching Eshra like the feathered yokai is crafting some nefarious world-ending plot right there in the clothing store. "You said we'd get boba."
Leon, huh? Eshra files that information away for later.
Big Turtle -- Leon -- glances under his arm at his fun-size companion. "We just got here, champ," he says with some amusement and obvious affection.
"Yeah, but I'm literally dying of thirst. Look! I'm wasting away!" Little Turtle slumps dramatically against his… uncle… big brother… whatever and turns the biggest puppy dog eyes Eshra has ever seen up to the big turtle. It takes everything in the yokai not to snort at the theatrical display.
"Okay, okay, we'll go get boba." Leon seems entirely unaware of the little con artist's manipulation, or maybe he's just used to it. He looks at Eshra then and gives him the biggest, warmest smile Eshra has ever seen, and it promptly turns the little yokai's insides into mush. Oh no. "Seriously, get the wrap."
Then he's letting his seven foot, several hundred pound bulk be dragged out of the store by a kid not even half his size, a kid who is still tossing suspicious glances in Eshra's direction. Suddenly, on impulse, Eshra hurries after them.
"Hey, hold on!"
Leon stops, despite his Mini Me's attempts to continue to tug on his arm. He cocks his head at Eshra, whose crest ruffles in sudden bashfulness.
"Would you, uh. Would you like to get coffee sometime?"
There's that smile again. "Sure. Actually… how do you feel about boba?"
Beside Leon, Little Turtle looks borderline apoplectic, but the expression vanishes the instant Leon looks down at him. Interesting. "That okay with you, little bro?"
The answer is obviously reluctant. Equally obvious, however, is the teenager's apparent inability to say no to his older brother. "Yeah, that's fine, I guess."
"Great!" Leon offers a hand to Eshra, and the yokai only now realizes that the turtle's right arm is entirely prosthetic. "I'm Leon, and this is my, uh… little brother, Leo."
Taking the offered hand and giving it a polite shake, Eshra blinks. The same name? Okay, kinda weird… but now his curiosity is piqued, and he's going to chase it down no matter how hard the little one, Leo, is trying to set Eshra on fire with his eyes.
"Nice to meet you both. I'm Eshra."
Idk if you're still taking prompts but if you are I'd love to see some primal play with the cat king and Charles. I need to catch up on your tarot fic btw I adore it but I'm like three chapters behind lol
I’m so sorry this one took so long, it’s definitely been simmering in my head a while and just needed a spark! Also hope you’ve caught up, and hope you enjoyed. 💖
Cat King/Charles primal play. NSFW.
~
Charles is a city boy; he’s not much at home in woods and forests, but he still moves through them easily, trusting his ghostly nature and his instincts to guide him. It’s rare he even has reason to be out somewhere like this. Especially without Edwin. Especially when they’re not on a case.
Tonight, he’s here because of an invitation he couldn’t resist.
He and the Cat King have sorted out most of their issues, the serious ones at any rate, though they still tend to disagree on things and needle each other seemingly just for the fun of it. It keeps an interesting heat between them, and they’ve found a number of… fun ways to play with that. Thomas is always one to nudge his lovers into new experiences, and despite his initial hesitation, Charles has found that going along with it ends up really well for him most of the time.
So yeah. He’s here because of Thomas, really; because the other suggested he needed to blow off steam in a way that he isn’t quite willing to with Edwin or Monty. He’s still careful with both of them, after a fashion. Charles, though… Charles has always been a fighter. And he can take whatever the Cat King can dish out.
That’s the assumption, anyway.
All right, it’s still a bit odd, being out in the woods knowing he’s being tracked by something animal and supernatural. Usually the things hunting him aren’t so clear in their intentions. It gives him a bit of a leg up, or so he thinks.
He always tends to forget that the Cat King doesn’t play fair.
There’s not the usual burst of violet fire or the subtle chorus of cat’s meows. A sleek, dark figure rushes from the shadows, and Charles has to admit he’s caught totally off guard. If someone had been trying to hurt him, he’d have been utterly screwed.
As it is, the glancing scrape of cat’s claws against his back is so light it’s nearly ticklish rather than painful. Just enough to make him aware of a presence. He braces himself, turns and settles into a fighting stance, hands up. He doesn’t have his cricket bat, of course, because this isn’t really a fight.
That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous, though.
Hands are on him before he can think, the weight of a body bearing him down to the ground. He strikes out without thinking, and hears a husky chuckle in return as calloused hands block his strikes, pin him to the ground. He can see the gleam of golden eyes, the faintest flash of a fanged smile. “Not good enough, ghostie.”
It makes a flash of heat roll through Charles, makes him lash out in earnest. He gets one good strike to center mass, earning a rough grunt from the Cat King, but he catches the other, harshly pinning the offending hand against the soil. The hiss that rises on his lips is more animal than human as his other hand wraps around Charles’, with pressure tight enough to hurt if he wanted to. It’s a warning, a threat.
And yeah; usually, he would fight back until his last undying breath. But with these hands on him, these claws pricking at his flesh, he folds, giving in with a slow exhale, tilting his chin up to expose his throat.
A familiar face floats above his own, but there is something foreign in those golden eyes, a distant, wild note that he has never seen before. It sends an honest shiver down his spine, and he sees the Cat King grin at the reaction from his trapped prey. He’s never felt so vulnerable before, not even a few steps away from Death herself. He feels raw and exposed, every inch of his flesh suddenly so vulnerable.
Thomas bends his head, sharp teeth scraping over the delicate skin of his neck, and Charles whimpers.
He’s prey, he realizes. He’s a mouse in a trap, at best. Because the Cat King has him, well and truly, and he won’t let him go.
And fuck if that doesn’t send a spike of unexpected arousal through him.
A clawed hand traces down his chest, shredding fabric in its wake, and he can’t do anything but shudder at the delicate brush as those claws touch skin. His trousers are shredded in like fashion, and he’s shaking as a sharp point traces oh-so-delicately down his length. He wants to pull away, and at the same time, he wants more.
Even when he looks up, that familiar face is a mask of animal need, of lust and rage and cruelty. The Cat King is showing the basest elements of what he is, and Charles can either run from it, or embrace it.
He meets those cold, glazed golden eyes and flashes a cocky smirk. He’ll never back down, ever - and he’ll also never hold what Thomas is against him. He can take it.
The Cat King snarls, and a hot mouth presses over his own, body pinning him to the ground. A hand snakes between his legs, and Charles muffles a whine into Thomas’ mouth as two fingers push into him, no hesitation, no preparation. He can take it, though, trying in vain to catch his breath when the other is intent on stealing it.
Magic flickers along his nerves as slick lube presses into him as an afterthought, but he can’t focus on that when Thomas is biting his way down the line of his throat, leaving harsh red marks against his skin. The Cat King’s hands are surprisingly rough as they roll Charles over, push him onto hands and knees.
There’s no teasing or drawing things out, as Thomas usually enjoys. Just a hot body against his, cock pressing against his hole, shallow thrusts driving him inside. Charles bites back another whine, and the Cat King just buries himself deeper, making the ghost see stars. His hands are grasping almost desperately at the earth and dead leaves beneath them, wanting something to hang onto. He hears a low hiss pressed against the back of his neck, but it sounds somehow pleased, and he can’t help the tiny little moan that escapes.
It’s enough encouragement, apparently. Hips snap harshly against his ass, and the shock of pain-pleasure makes him moan, automatically arching for more.
He can’t help himself when it comes to making his partners feel good.
The Cat King is ruthless, pounding into him, sharp teeth leaving their marks along his neck and shoulders. Claws dig into his hips to keep him still, and Charles whimpers but endures. He’s hard as a fucking rock, too damn close coming untouched, but his whole focus is on Thomas. Whatever he needs, fuck it, he’ll give.
A snarl is buried against the nape of his neck when the feline finally comes, and Charles can smell the blood where claws prick his hips. He doesn’t so much as ask for a breath - he’s pressing himself back for more, offering himself like a sacrifice beneath the other’s predatory need.
He’ll fight if he wants, oh fucking yes. But if the Cat King just wants willing prey, he’s here for that too. And hell if he doesn’t love either prospect.
"Midnight" is one of my favourite episodes!!
A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on may 1st
Wizard fight ft. Helena and Altea, the worsties
Still love them dearly
I am…unwell over Kenobi ep 5.
Anakin Skywalker / Revenge of the Sith
Hayden Christensen / Procreate App
I’m loving Season 2 so far!