So about a year ago, I started this Mewtwo style study, drawing some of the babytwos from members of the amazing commewnity, as well as some other characters from artists I greatly enjoy. Kappa, as a kangaskhan fusion, has natural motherly instincts and attracts children.
I tried to keep the proportions and shapes as accurate as possible to study as many designs and details as possible.
Featuring in approximately left to right order:
Pigment from @xxtc-96xx
Marshmallow from @polteashop
Copper from @absolutedream-art
Nana from @dxzziie
Momo from @loupy-mongoose
Chilli from @penumbramewtwos
Twotwo from @whatifmw
Blu from @mewtwoandme
Dot from @oddestoddish
Novus from @mew-dump
Oddy from @phlurrii
Red from @pokemon-ash-aus
Pip from @blues-sues
Contrast from @paradoxiusblack
Mizuki from @secret-mewtwo
Matcha from @inaris-pokemon-world
Bingo from @askvekpa
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"Ranpo. I'm falling asleep, man."
Your complaints are met with Ranpo's own disgruntled mumbles pressed into the damp skin of your neck. "Don't call me man. I'm trying to kiss you and that's what I get?"
"Trying to kiss me while I'm trying to sleep. Can you wait for the morning?"
Apparently, he can't, because he stays in his position on top of you. Every line of his body is pressed into yours as his arms stay wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in and keeping you locked. You don't hate this, truthfully, but you are falling asleep. The only thing keeping you awake is your annoying partner who you love but also want to kick out of the bed for the night.
Ranpo trails innocent open-mouthed kisses along the soft part beneath your jawline before moving up to the corner of your mouth. He sighs a content little hum into your skin and you have to fight back a shiver. He's awfully good at this. You know he's not trying to do any more than kissing—he never does when you're both bone tired and swaddled in bed—but his incessant gestures are inching you more and more to full consciousness and you really need to get a full seven hours of sleep tonight.
"I need it," he tells you, earnest in the way he always is when the exhaustion starts to make his clever brain fuzzy. He's always a little more mushy with you past eleven PM, words and thoughts and actions slurring into one barely cohesive jumble. "Just a little. Won’t you do it for me? 'Cause you love me 'nd all."
He needs it. Good god. He’s gonna kill you with that one day.
Whatever smart response bubbling on your tongue immediately fizzes out when he covers your lips with his own. Hot and slow breaths puff between the both of you as he moves his mouth against yours in slow, pliant motions. You're far too weak for him and far too awake now, so you let him take you apart just for a moment, just to take the edge off his spontaneous neediness.
"Yeah, sure. Love you and whatever," you manage to squeeze out between his perpetual line of kisses, now spanning across your lips and to your cheek and the spot right beneath your eye, close enough to let you feel the way his soft breaths flutter against your eyelashes.
"One more," he tells you—but it's more like he's telling himself. Like a goal, a promise, a self-fulfilled prophecy. "Just one. M'kay? Then you can fall asleep all early like you're a senior citizen."
"This senior citizen is letting you kiss them, baby. Don't complain."
And, oh, isn't it such a delight, hearing the way his breaths turn shaky for just a second after the nickname leaves your mouth. Every time you call him baby he goes shaky and bashful, too embarrassed to say anything smart. It’s his weak point and you’re too addicted to be good about it.
“If you wake me up early,” you tell him, finally able to pry his face away from yours with the help of a firm hand cupping his cheek, “I’ll make you breakfast. And you can kiss me again. I’ll even walk to the store and get that good jam that you like.”
“You’re a good bargainer.”
“Comes with the job. Will you let me go to bed now?”
He makes a contemplative noise, a hum that buzzes through your fingertips from where you hold his face. “I said one more, right?”
Indeed he did. With a sigh, you let him press a big stupid kiss on your lips, complete with an obnoxiously loud mwah! sound effect from him that you roll your eyes at. What a man-child.
(You still walk to the store for him in the morning. You’re weak at heart, really.)
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