#chip yips

[tuxedkitt]

[tuxedkitt]

Rorschach :)

This website is too mobile focused these days. Reblog and tell me what your desktop/laptop background is.

[tuxedkitt]

I love the new Black Noir guy, theater kid that is super ready to kill

[bunny-jpeg]

bark, bark, bark

hybrid!john "soap" mactavish

cw: hybrid!au, smut/pwp, heat/rut, breeding, pregnancy, enemies-to-lovers, dog!reader, dog!john, owner!simon, doggy style filth

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? request your own!

"well, aren't ya just a dream." john said as he sat at the kitchen table. his tail swayed from side to side as he looked at you.

you were standing close to your new owner, simon riley. you had a pretty pink collar on and your ears were flat against your head. your arms were crossed and you looked annoyed.

john or 'soap' as simon called him, was a dog. as were you. while your breed was defined and regal. you were certain that simon found john behind a dumpster of a fish n' chips place. but you'd have to get along with your fellow hybrid if you didn't want to end up being re-homed.

john just thought you were perfect, but in as sneering kind of way. almost mocking as he pulled at your floppy ears and your hair. he even got you by the collar once and brought you to the tiled floor of the farmhouse the three of you lived in.

you'd often yip and growl at one another in the living room as you fought over the remote. which often left you both scolded by your owner. if you were on your knees one last time in front of simon while the larger man wagged a finger at you, you were going to put the mutt's throat between your teeth and clamp down.

but then it happened. something you had dreaded, you thought at least simon would've gotten you some birth control shots before you heat took over. you felt some embarrassed, like a fucking idiot because you were leaking all over the bed you slept in.

hybrids slept in beds like any other human, but while simon kept his minimal. yours was covered in all manners of pillows and stuffed animals. which gave you ample room to find something to put between your legs. you covered your mouth with your head as you got on your knees with the pillow between your legs.

you rutted against it, hoping that the fabric would catch your clit through your shorts. you whimpered a little but tightened your hand across your mouth. you hoped that john didn't catch the smell of your heat. the last thing you wanted was for that stupid dog to be smelling your pussy like the animal he was.

"fuck." you muttered to yourself as you found you couldn't get enough friction from the pillow. you peeled of your shorts with the crotch of your panties soaked, and put your legs on either side of the pillow once more and rutted against the edge.

you squeaked a little and panted around your hand as you rolled your hips. heat raced through your body and electricity was shot through your clit from the sensation of the pillow against it. you could only imagine the stain that would be left on the pillow by the time you were done.

your toes curled as you continued to move, you were getting lost in your head as you moved across the fabric. you let out the smalles tnoises and couldn't even stop to hear if you could hear anyone outside your door.

it was why you didn't hear the stealthy john come into your room, or creep towards you in the dark. his nose was in the air as the alluring scent of fertile hybrid filled his brain. you didn't even know he was so close until he pounced onto the bed and shoved you into the mountain of soft objects.

you yelped and tried to kick your legs out in defense, but he kept you pinned rather tightly to the bed. his nose was in your neck as he took a healthy inhale. he groaned and you felt his cock twitch against your bare ass.

you knew your pussy was getting the front of his shorts soaked.

"what do we have here?" he asked, already a little drunk from the scent, "is my girl fuckin' her pillows? bein' bad." he growled against your neck as he pushed you further into the bed, causing your hips to raise higher.

"john!" you yelped.

"that's it, doll. my precious girl. i know i tease ya, but this is worse than anything i've ever done." he said with a dark edge to his tone, "ruttin' in your bed all alone. with your mate."

you melted at the word, you hated him but the lust was clotting your brain from coherent thought. all you could feel about was the heat against you. the larger hybrid up against you.

"please, john." you whimpered, "you can't breed me. get simon."

he kissed at your neck, his fangs nipped against the back of it, he continued to rub up against you, "i don't think so, doll. i think you need me more than you need simon." his voice was low, "you need some cock." he chuckled, "my cock."

you whimpered, "please."

"don't worry, i promise i was a easy pup to rear." he chuckled lowly, "you, me and baby, quite the trio. maybe if we're lucky, we'll have two boys."

you whimpered, in your state the thought sounded alluring. you couldn't imagine alife without john in that moment. even though he bullied you, you couldn't imagine him NOT fucking you in that moment.

"ya like that don't ya, girlie. you like the idea of you being all pregnant with my pups. you'd be a lovely girl like that." he chuckled as he pulled down his shorts under his cock, freeing it.

his cock was impressive, it was large with heavy balls that showed that he'd be a good breeder. he was impressed with it and hoped it would fit in your tight virgin hole.

"here it comes, love." he said, "now be good for me, i want to feel every inch in ya." he chuckled as he guided his cock into your sweet hole, effectively ruining your virginity. he sank into it slowly and felt the air leave his chest.

"ah!" you whimpered as you buried your head further into the stuffed animals on your bed. you exhaled deeply to keep yourself relaxed so you didn't hurt yourself. but his cock was already deep in you.

"holy shit. i wished you went into heat sooner." he growled, "you feel amazin', doll. i could fuck ya forever, give ya a whole bunch of litters to take care of." he chuckled as he puffed his chest out with pride. his cock was a tight fit in you, but it felt so good. you were so wet that he slid in easily, there was no struggle to fuck his little wife.

wife, that was a term he would ever think that he'd call you. but what else would you be? a slut? his fuck hole?" the thought made him chuckle as he started to thrust in and out of you.

your eyes rolled back, his cock soothed the fire in your belly. it was what the primal part of your brain needed. you needed cock, specically HIS cock. it was the only thing that you'd allow in you. you didn't NEED simon, you just needed john to fuck the discomfort away!

easy as that, and john was happily able to do that for you. he would make you feel nice and good. he held you down by your head and you felt hot all over as he thrusted up into you. he growled and tried not to make too much noise to alert his owned.

your breathing was shaky as you clutched onto a pillow under your head. you panted heavily as you felt hot all over. this heat was almost painful and it ran like a current in your body. you felt skittish but drowning in the depths of pleasure.

"ah! please! ah!" you panted, "john, please."

"i got ya, lass." he chuckled, "don't worry. i'll make it all better. don't worry about anything." he continued to thrust in and out of you. he felt hot all over too. his head was clouded with the scent of your want for him.

his heart raced as he felt his t-shirt cling to his chest as he continued to move. you tried to meet his pace but your brain was so empty that you could barely keep up. you had never felt this full before. you whimpered so pathetically, john just knew that he would have to take care of you. after all that was what a husband did.

your lover, your husband, the father to your many, many pups. that was a title he could be proud of. it only fueled him to bury his cock deeper inside of you. the bed squeaked and john breathed heavily through his nose as his hips slapped against your ass.

"pretty thing." he purred, "bein' such a bitch all this time. but i knew better, i knew you wanted me." he chuckled a little, proud of himself that he got to bed the little birdie that has been in his home the past couple of months.

"john." you said lazily, "it feels so good." you panted wildly. you felt like there was a flat line in your head, everything kind of rolled off your tongue without thinking much of it. ypur cutn was soaked, you could feel the wetness all the way down to the back fo your thighs.

"so good." he said, "simon is gonna know how good you were for me. once you're all swollen with my puppies. keep ya nice and fat with litter after litter. i'll make sure nothin' happens to them, our little family." he panted wildly like the dog he was. he threw his head back as his hips bounced against you. his cock pushed in and out of your aching hole.

he would douse the fire in your soul, he'll simmer you down. but in exchange you'll get morning sickness and in nine months squirming hybrids in your arms. you moaned at the thought, you knew you were close to your climax.

"mine. got it?" he said, less like a question and more like a statement as he pulled your head away from the pillows. you gasped for air after being in the heat of the pillows.

you moaned loudly as you felt yourself climax around his cock. further making a mess. he growled in happiness as he gave one last thrust of his hips and he finished inside of you.

the noise must've woken up simon. because when he went into your room, he found you going at it once more. he sighed and made a note to get you some plan b in the morning. he didn't need more puppies roaming the halls of the farmhouse.

he also reminded himself to get you some birth control shots to make sure this didn't happen again.

-

simon's plan failed. it failed pretty badly. because by the time he got the birth control. it was too late, you were pregnant with john's baby. simon was thankful that it was just ONE.

at least you two got along...

"goodamnit, soap!" you shrieked.

there was a commotion in the kitchen. simon sighed and got up from his seat. he saw one very pregnant hybrid and the one who got her pregnant in the kitchen. you two were snapping jaws at one another.

"i wish you'd go back to fuckin'." he grumbled.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!sorcerer!reader, rough sex, orgasm denial, sukuna’s mean, begging, degradation, pussy spanking, suggested noncon prior to the beginning of the fic, name calling ( brat, whore, bitch ), dacryphilia, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day six [ sukuna ryomen ( megumi ) + orgasm denial ]

“W-wait, please— fuck!!”

another howl of disapproval tears from your throat as the King of Curses pushes you off of his cock, again. your body trembles and twitches; your used cunt trying to clench around air and hold on to the orgasm that you’d been right on the cusp of.

“Let me…” you’re panting, trying to stabilize your weight on your scuffed-up knees, but the muscles in your body had all but turned to gelatin after hours of relentless fucking. “Let me cum…” it’s an attempt to demand, to sound tougher than you were, but you sound pathetic and weak, pushing your ass back towards the bastardized visage of your best friend.

beyond the curse marks that etched into his complexion, Sukuna Ryomen had twisted Megumi into a monster that you didn’t even recognize. or, perhaps, it was because of the tears blurring your vision or the haze your poor brain had been fucked into. you didn’t know anymore.

“So entitled for a little, fucking whore. You’re not acting like you don’t want this, anymore.” one powerful hand grabs most of your hair at the roots in a tight vice and pushes you forward, smearing your face into the floor, and he hunches over you. you squirm and whine, but not from the screaming pain in your scalp or the taste of blood in your mouth, but because you could feel his cock, hard and throbbing, as it rubs against your ass cheeks when he hunches forward. his body is on fire against yours, smearing sweat from his broad chest across your shoulder blades. “A few hours ago you were trying to kill me, screaming for me to stop, and trying to threaten me, and now you’re yipping for my cock like a wild animal. Begging to be mounted. Cum-hungry. You’re an easy one to break.”

“Go to hell,” you groaned, but you still writhed, winding your hips in an attempt to convince him to push back inside.

“I’m taking you with me.” he retorts with a raspy chuckle, before doing just that— and none too gently. with a forceful thrust, every inch of solid cock and pulsating vein barrels through your spongy canal, filling you to the brim and knocking the wind out of your lungs, before he uses his free hand to dig his digits into your fleshy hip and fall into the same, brutal rhythm he’s been decimating you with. you mewl and clamor to hold on to something. your nails scrape against the tiles on the floor, some of them chipping into jagged edges as your eyes roll back. “You know that, don’t you, brat? You’re damned— you were damned the moment you started to enjoy the way I fuck your helpless, little cunt.” his breath is hot and heavy against the shell of your ear as he ruts against your body, pounding it mercilessly. you try to shake your head, but his grip holds it steady and smeared against the floor and he guffaws, “Don’t think I can’t feel you, whore. Your cunt is sloppy wet, but the harder and faster I fuck you, the more I deny your release, the more frantically your hole squeezes.” your stomach feels like it’s in knots, your climax quickly approaching, and he must’ve felt your body start to tighten and prepare to cum, because he snickers and jerks on your hair tighter. “Just like that,” a low grunt dies in the back of his throat, “you’re already going to try and cum again.”

“Please,” you moan, trying to convince him to allow you release by pleasing him, since begging hasn’t seemed to be working. your ass bounces back to meet his violent thrusting, and the way you squelch and the sound of your wet skin slapping against his fills you with shame. “Please, let me cum! I need— need rest— can’t do this—“

“Greedy bitch.” but you could tell by the way he grinds his jaw when he says it that he likes the way it feels. pulling himself back up on to his knees, Sukuna places both hands on your ass cheeks, which were already sore from his relentless spanking, and he digs his sharp nails in. “What makes you think you deserve it? Because you can take my cock, you think I owe you pleasure or something?” he stills you with his strength, and pulls himself from your abused cavern right as you’ve started to hold your breath and knit your brows, on the edge of your climax, much to your dismay. “You get wet because I abuse your pussy, that’s because you’re filthy, not because I want you to like this.”

“Noooo!” you squeal, deflating like a balloon as he soils yet another orgasm. this time, the sensation slipping away was so intense, that your eyes had begun to water, and you try to look over your shoulder at him, glare daggers up at him for being so cruel, but you find his form, massive and daunting and flushed pink with sparkling sweat trickling over marked skin, too dizzying, and you gawk instead.

Sukuna smirks, wide— red eyes alight with malevolence upon seeing your tears. “Pitiful, aren’t you? Ah, but seeing that look of despair on your face only makes me harder. You want it so badly, it’s almost cute.” he looms over you, pushing on your ass to force your chest back down to the floor, your back arching so your ass sticks higher in the air. your thighs tremble hopelessly, and he enjoys the way you shake and sniffle. “Go ahead and cry, brat. Beg me until your voice goes out. I still won’t let you cum. I love this too much.” grabbing his massive cock at the base, he guides the swollen tip to tease your sticky folds, and for a moment, you try to open up and welcome back inside, regardless of the way your walls ache from the stretch, but he doesn’t force his way back inside. rubbing up and down, he teases your cunt from hole to clit, before slapping the squishy head of his cock against you in rapid-fire spanks.

when you start to squirm and babble, working up the nerve to beg once again to be blessed with an orgasm and relief, he leans closer, his tongue licking a fat stripe from your chin to the apple of your cheek, gathering a mass of salty tears on the buds so that he may taste your anguish. “I’d so much rather watch you suffer.”

[tuxedkitt]

Im a kitty cat

With a tuxedo

what made u guys pick ur url's !

[sea-lanterns]

LET'S GET MARRIED!

synopsis: (childhood AU!) various genshin women proposing to you as children

featuring: miko, hu tao, dehya, ningguang

rating: sfw (anyone can interact)

warnings: gn! child reader, genshin women as children, fluff, puppy love, love at first sight, mentions of death (hu tao), funerals (hu tao), bullying (dehya), violence (dehya), poverty, may be ooc since they are children, not proofread.

art credits: whisper me a love song

MIKO

As a young kitsune, Miko was unable to transform into her human form due to a lack of strength and natural willpower. So, it was common for the yokai to be seen wandering around the shrine as a small fox, eating little snacks given to her by the shrine maidens, and terrorizing tiny children like the menace she was.

You’ve heard stories of a pink fox roaming the Narukami Shrine, but you didn’t think much of it when you sat down at a nearby bench to enjoy your lunch. Pulling out a small packet of your favorite chips, you tore it open before hearing a slight, rustling sound coming from within the bushes.

Rustle rustle rustle. 

You looked up to see one of the bushes in front of you moving, the branches shaking wildly before something pink and fluffy tumbled out from below.

A pink, fluffy, fox.

Miko had stumbled out of the plant with her fur all messy and tousled with leaves. A small yip leaving her mouth, as she shook like a wet dog and growled. Oh no, you’ve heard of this fox before. This was the terror of the Narukami Shrine, the infamous child attacker of Inazuma, the one, the only:

Yae Miko.

She sneezed as leaves blew out of her fur, before twitching her nose at the smell of your food. Once she caught a whiff of what you had in your lap, her eyes narrowed and she started glaring at you. Damn, even as a child, Miko still had that intimidating glare that could put an archon in their place, intimidating you with just a scowl before strutting up to you with confidence.

“…Hello?” You timidly say, looking down at the fox with worry. “You’re…you’re the fox that attacks kids, right? Please don’t hurt me, I’m just trying to eat my lunch.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. Even though she couldn’t speak, it felt like she was degrading you. 

“…Uhm. Do you want some? I can give you some if you like.”

Her tummy grumbled at an embarrassing time, causing her to only flatten her ears.

“…Okay.” You timidly reached into your bag and pulled out a small chip. Hesitantly, you held it out to her and waited for her to crawl up to you. “I hope it’s not that salty. I know kitsune taste buds can be pretty sensitive, so it’s okay if you don’t like it—”

She lunged forward to sniff the chip before biting onto it and gnawing like a dog. Cronch cronch cronch. She had crumbs spill all over the floor, but she seemed pretty satisfied overall, looking up at you for more. “Oh! Do you want some more?” She nodded, her tail starting to wag. “I can give you more, then!”

You ended up sharing half your lunch with the kitsune. Throwing her whatever you found in your lunchbox, and watching her devour it on the floor of the shrine. After a while, she seemed to have taken a liking to you and jumped on the bench beside you to lie down, letting out a content, purring noise. After that little interaction, you started coming to the shrine more often to feed and hang out with the little fox. Weeks passing by of this little friendship, you didn’t think your routine would change until one, fateful, day.

As you climbed up the steps leading to your favorite spot, you saw not the fox you’ve grown so accustomed to, but a small, pink haired girl around your age. She was waiting patiently on the bench you always sat at, before her ear twitched, indicating that she noticed you. 

Turning around, she had those same lilac eyes as your little foxy friend, as  they glimmered in a way that felt so familiar to you the more you stared.

“Finally, you came!” The girl said exasperatedly, folding her arms and pouting at you. “I was waiting all day! You keep a girl hungry, you know.” 

“I— sorry?” You looked so confused when she ran up to you and grabbed your lunch. “Hey—!”

“So, what did you bring this time? Fried tofu for Friday? I hope so…”

“Hey! Those are for my fox friend!” You exclaimed, snatching your lunchbox back. “I don’t even know you!”

“Are you dumb? I am your fox friend!” The girl yelled back, tugging the lunchbox back. “It’s me, Yae Miko!”

“Miko?!” Your eyes widened and you took a step back. No way, how could this bratty and sassy child be Yae Miko? “No way…”

“Yes way! I was able to transform into my human form the other night. I’m strong enough now!” She grinned proudly and showed off her canine teeth. Although a bit bratty and too overconfident, you could tell it was actually her due to her unique markings and fluffy, pink, ears. “Now, hand over the tofu! I’ve been waiting all week for this!”

You pouted and handed her the takeout box with tofu inside. “…Fine.”

She grinned and looked at you smugly before taking the carton out of your hands. “Thank you…!” She began eating with the elegance of a toddler before pausing her chewing mid way. “By the way, since I can talk now, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.” 

“Huh?” You gasped when she suddenly jumped on top of you and looked at you with those curious eyes. 

“I’ve decided I want to marry you when we get older.”

“What?!”

She smiled at you before hugging you close. Wanting to feel you in a way that had your little heart beating. “You heard me, I want to marry you! That way, you’ll feed me yummy food forever!” She exclaimed, staring at you in a way you couldn’t refuse. “Please?”

“I— o-okay…” your tiny kid's heart didn’t have the guts to refuse, so the moment you said yes, Miko smiled and nuzzled you close. “Hurray! Now you can feed me fried tofu for the rest of our lives!”

If only you knew, she would marry you for reasons other than fried tofu…

HU TAO

Funerals were typically held on rainy days like in the movies, so why was yours held on such a bright and sunny day?

You stared at the coffin in front of you with regret, regret for not being with your grandmother more, as she passed away in her sleep due to old age. The funeral was directed by Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, which meant you had an untimely encounter with the director’s eccentric granddaughter.

She was so…strangely upbeat. Of course, she paid her respects to the dead, mourning in a way to convey her sadness. But she was still quite the spunky one and you couldn’t help but get irritated at how nonchalant she was. 

There she was, prancing around the funeral giving jolly orders like it was nothing. You knew it was a part of her job, but did she really have to be so happy about it? You were slightly annoyed and went to sit by the pond to take a breather, pulling at the itchy black clothes your parents made you wear, before feeling the tears well up in your eyes. 

“Grandma…” your tiny voice trembled, sniffing and wiping away your tears, trying your best not to cry in front of all your family members.

“Yoo-hoo? Does someone need a tissue?” You heard a voice call, gentle footsteps walking up from behind and dangling a napkin in front of your face. “Better wipe up that runny nose, your face is too cute to be all snotty!”

“Hu Tao…” you frowned, taking her offered napkin and looking away. “Please go away, I’m not in the mood to play right now…”

Her face softened at the sight of you trying to hide your tears. Shamelessly trying to wipe your runny nose while hiding the fact that you were crying. “Okay…I guess I’ll go…”

Before she could leave however, your hand instinctively reached out to grab her sleeve, tugging her back. “No wait, I…” you grimaced and stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry, please stay…” Even though you were still annoyed, you still wanted the comfort of another person. Even if that person was Hu Tao. 

“Oh? Ah, okay…” Hu Tao immediately sat down beside you and looked at you with worry. “…Your eyes are really puffy, you know.”

“I know.” You mumble tiredly, wiping your nose with your sleeve and staring at the water. “I haven’t cried like this in a while.”

“Understandable. I mean, your grandma pa—” she stopped herself from saying more before slowly hugging her knees. “Ah…sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You mutter, a deafening silence overcoming you two. “You’re just trying to help.”

Another awkward silence. Usually Hu Tao was more talkative when it came to the two of you, but right now she was quiet as she sat down beside you and picked at the grass. While the adults in the background talked amongst themselves, Hu Tao finally snapped out of it and reached a hand out for you to take.

“��Hug?” She asked softly, opening her arms like a baby bear cub. 

“…Hug.” You say quietly, moving over to hug her while trying your best not to sob all over her shoulder. “There there. No need to hold back.” Hu Tao says reassuringly, squeezing you tightly. “You can snot over my shirt if you want. I have others.”

“No, ew.” You chuckle through your sobs. “That’s disgusting.”

“Well, I don’t mind if it makes you feel better…” she murmurs against your ear. “I don’t like seeing you so upset.” 

“I don’t normally get so upset, sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. I just want to cheer you up.” 

She patted your back comfortingly, before placing her hat on top of your head. “You know, I wish we could hang out more often. You seem like a pretty cool kid.” She smiles brightly at you before pulling away from the hug. “I wanna be with you more! Not just at the funeral parlor.”

“Sniff, really?” You blinked your tears away and looked up at her. 

“Really.” She says with a smile, cupping your hands. “…Actually, I have an idea!”

She plucked a dandelion sprout from the ground and got down on one knee, holding out the flower to your face. “Let’s get married when we’re older! That way, I can cheer you up whenever we’re together!”

Your face flushed at the sudden proposal and you immediately panicked. “Ah, wait! Aren’t marriages a serious thing? Don’t you have to be in love for that to happen?”

“Pfft! Who cares? Marriages make people happy, so I wanna make you happy too…”

She slipped the dandelion between your ear and smiled, giving you a smile you would soon see walking down the altar…

DEHYA

You ran down the streets of your hometown, trying to avoid all the bullies chasing your tail and diving down random alleyways to lose them as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for you however, you found yourself at a dead end with nowhere else to go, a bunch of big kids getting ready to make you their next target, as they took the liberty of picking up rocks to throw at you.

“Ah, come on! Can’t you leave me alone just this once?” You looked aggravated and fearful for your life, backing up against the hardened brick wall that led to your demise. “Don’t you get tired of picking on me all the time? Find something else to do!”

Your desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as they got ready to launch their rocks. You sighed and crouched down on the ground, trying to cover your head for the inevitable pain you were going to feel.

“Okay, just please make it quick…”

You squeezed your eyes shut and resisted the urge to cry, bracing yourself for the impact that…strangely never came? 

Instead, you heard the loud yells of a rugged and tomboyish girl, the sounds of kids screaming in fear, before footsteps sprinted away from you. The sounds slowly grew quieter and quieter, leaving you to open your eyes and see a pretty, short-haired girl standing in front of you.

“They’re gone now, I chased them away for you.” Was all she said before extending her hand out. “Are you okay? Did they hit you or anything?”

Your cheeks flushed hot at the sight of her trying to help you, as the girl was very pretty and the way she was staring at you with those piercing blue eyes made your heart leap with relief. What was this feeling? Could it be? Did you finally develop one of those things called crushes? 

You realized she was still staring at you and shook your head no.

“Ah, no…they didn’t.” You slowly took her hand and stood up. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“You sure? Your knee looks pretty bad.”

You looked down to see what she was pointing at and sure enough, you had somehow scraped your knee during the chase. “Oh, I guess I didn’t notice…” you brushed off some sand that had gotten on it and winced. “Don’t worry, it’s just a scrape. It’ll heal.”

“Not if it gets infected.” She huffs, grabbing your hand with her own. Wow, even for a kid as young as you, she sure was strong. “Come on, I’ll take you back to my tent. My name’s Dehya by the way.” 

She tugs you down to follow her to her camp and makes you sit down, grabbing all the medical supplies her arms could carry before setting them down in front of you.

“Uhm, do you know how to use these? Only grownups should use alcohol.” You scrunched up your nose at the sight, causing Dehya to laugh beautifully. 

“Pfft, you’re thinking of the wrong kind of alcohol,” she grins, applying some on a piece of gauze. “That’s drinking alcohol, it’s the kind that makes grownups all dizzy and say funny things. This is rubbing alcohol.”

She gently applies the gauze to your scrape and watches you hiss in pain. The moment she sees tears well up in your eyes though, she immediately grabs your hand.

“Ah—! I’m sorry, but this has to be done! My dad told me you have to disinfect wounds so you don’t get germs on it!” She squeezed your hand in comfort, helping you push through the pain before setting the gauze down to begin bandaging you. “I know it hurts, but adults go through scary injuries all the time and have to go through the same thing. You can be brave for me, right?”

She looks up at you with those piercing blue eyes and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no.

“Hah! That’s the spirit!” She smiles and finishes wrapping up your knee. “There, all done! Can you walk?”

You shakily got up on wobbly knees before almost falling backwards, if not for Dehya instinctively catching you. “…Huh. Seems like you need a bit more recovery.”

She helps you sit back down before frowning after a few moments. “Actually, I have to ask, how long have you been bullied by those bigger kids?”

“Ah, for a little while…” you mumble in response, hiding your face in shame. “It’s okay, they’ll get bored of me eventually.”

“Eventually?” Dehya’s face furrowed with anger. “No! I’m not gonna let them keep bullying you! You deserve better!” She huffs and grabs your hand, before dramatically getting down on one knee. “I’m going to protect you till the end of time. My dad said that you should always protect those who can’t protect themselves, so I’m doing that for you!”

“But—”

She looked at you with such fiery determination and you shut up immediately.

“No buts. I’ve decided I’m going to stick with you for as long as I can.” She smiled and held your hands, leaning in close with a grin. “Perhaps we’ll even get married…”

Your eyes widened at the idea. Married to Dehya? I mean, it’s not like you were opposed to it…

“Married? Oh, uh, alright….” Dehya smiled and patted your head.

“Good. I’ll make sure you’re safe as long as you’re with me.”

She bows down to you like a knight would before taking your hand and kissing it. 

“That’s what a good wife does after all…”

NINGGUANG

Due to living in poverty, little tiny Ningguang had to make a living by selling seashells on the beach. She didn’t have time to play with the other kids, or go eat lunch with them by the pier, so she ended up not having a lot of friends to talk to, due to her poor upbringing and determination for money.

She would’ve ended up alone if not for you, a humble, yet curious child who took interest in what Ningguang wanted to sell. They were mostly handmade wares and shells she found lying on the beach, so there wasn’t really anything of high value. Despite that however, you were intrigued, and moved a little closer to take a look at what Ningguang had to offer.

She noticed you, standing up abruptly to present whatever she thought would interest you. “You seem rather enveloped by my jewelry,” Ningguang says, lifting up one of the trays of rings. “They’re all handcrafted and personally made by me. The pearls you see are freshly harvested from oysters found by the Liyue docks.”

She looked proud of her little business spiel and gently took your hand into hers. “Would you like to try one? I can help you find your ring size.”

Despite her living in rags and dirt, you couldn’t help but find her beautiful as she looked up at you with gemstone-brimmed eyes. Blinking up at you in a beautiful shade of scarlet, as her warm smile brought you newfound feelings you’ve never felt before. What were those feelings you may ask? Perhaps something akin to fascination, or perhaps…a small crush? 

Nevertheless, you knew this girl was beautiful, and wanted to get to know her better. After browsing around her selection of wares for you to purchase from, your eyes landed on a particular set of jewelry. “Are these a set? They both match…” you ask with curiosity, picking up one of the rings.

“Yes, I made those two in mind for a couple who happened to be walking by.” She picks up the second one in the pair and holds it out to you. “They are matching rings and can symbolize anything. Romance, friendship, familial bond…”

She smiles at you and gently slips one of the pairs onto your finger. “Here, it seems to fit onto you perfectly. Do you like it?” 

You did. It was absolutely beautiful and you admired the glittering pearl like it was the second prettiest thing you’ve ever seen. (The first one being Ningguang)

“It’s beautiful. But…” your eyes moved down to the matching pair in the set. “I don’t have anyone to match with…”

Ningguang raised a brow at this. Well, you could always buy another ring, so it’s not like this was a big deal.

“Oh? That’s a shame. Then perhaps you could get something else? Or, even just take one of the pairs and leave the other.” She thought quite logically about the situation and didn’t seem bothered by your dilemma. After giving her suggestion, she was a bit confused as to why you looked so upset. “Uh…is something the matter?”

“We can’t just separate the pair!” You exclaim, your childishness shining through. “They’d get lonely knowing the other pair is somewhere else…”

“But they’re just…rings?” Ningguang looked confused as to what you were throwing a fuss about. “Rings don’t have feelings!”

“You don’t know that!” You shout back, holding one of the rings close to your chest. “It needs to know it matches with someone. Then it’ll fulfill its purpose in life…”

Poor Ningguang looked so confused at the whole ordeal before sighing in slight disbelief. Perhaps she was a bit too mature for her age to understand, but it seemed that splitting the rings apart was troubling you to a great degree. 

“Alright, I have an idea…” Ningguang murmurs, taking the second half of the pair and slipping it onto her finger. “You can keep that one, and I will keep this one. That way we will match.” 

Your eyes lit up at this solution. “So we can be…a bonded pair?” You ask quietly, looking at her with intrigue.

Dammit. Little Ningguang’s face blushed and she couldn’t help but grow flustered. “Yes, we can be a bonded pair…” she grumbles, ignoring the way you were starting to look cute. 

“Hurray!” You smile gleefully, slipping the ring on and handing you some mora. “Now we can pretend to be married! Like real couples!” 

She felt the blood rush to her face as she looked down at the matching ring in her hand, a spur of newfound feelings bubbling in her chest, as Ningguang had never felt this way before. 

From that day forward, Ningguang vowed to become the richest woman in Liyue. All for the sole purpose of potentially buying you a real ring to marry…

[boynarcing]

I hate to be your dog

leon s. kennedy x puppy boy!reader

word count. 2.2k

cws. reader doesn't speak at all, neglect, implied alcoholism, mentions of heat cycles and sex, reader has a penis, fluff

note. I don't like writing hybrids as just a human with animal ears and a tail... make sure you take note of that before you read LOL… again lots of improper grammar my english sucks || title is Dog by Helena Deland

Leon takes care of his puppy. No, really, he does. You don’t need much to keep a dog happy; just a few scratches behind the ears and you’re set. You just gotta keep them fed and clean up after them, is all. That’s it. Nothing more. That’s all he does for you. No soapy baths or a trim. Not even a snip of those gnarly nails you’ve got growing. They’re so big your paws go crooked when you walk. 

You’re lucky if he remembers to feed you or change your murky water full of loose fur and cloudy patches of accumulated dust and grime. Nasty stuff. You’ll still drink it, though. A dog’s a dog; they’ll take what they can get—  rain or shine. 

Don’t get him wrong, he’s not trying to be neglectful. He cares, believe it or not. He’s just got a lot on his plate. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over. You wouldn’t understand. Not with those beady eyes and the silly smile you’re always wearing. At least someone is living stress-free under his roof. 

Leon sits on his couch, sipping on a glass of cold whiskey while watching TV. Nothing important. Politics this, criminals that— it’s whatever. A commercial starts playing, one with a pretty lady running through a set of flowery fields to advertise some fancy-sounding perfume. Something, something Eau de parfum. He thinks Ashley would like it.

The cushions beside him sink, the familiar odor of wet dog and stale chips making his nose wrinkle. 

“Hey, off the couch,” He clicks his tongue, hand gently pushing away your pressing face from his chest. You’re insistent, snuffling at his palm with a cold nose. You lick the salty skin, whining softly. Leon hasn’t washed his hands today. How many times has he peed? He doesn’t remember. 

Your tail wags behind you, slapping against the couch with a soft thump. “Hey,” He tries again, half-assedly adding a stern tone to his tired voice. “C’mon, you’re gonna stink it up.”

You wouldn’t stink if he just washed you for once. 

You whine again, pawing at his slacks and leaving short, wispy hairs behind. Leon grimaces. He grabs you by the scruff, ignoring the pained yip you let out and forcibly setting you down on the cold floor, your ass hitting the surface with a blunt thud. 

“Jesus, I just washed these,” He groans, hands sweeping over the fabric of his pants quickly, not getting a single hair off. He doesn’t bother anymore after seeing that. Instead, he turns his gaze down to you, frowning at the pitiful look you give him.

He nudges your side with the point of his shoe, sighing. That’s supposed to be affectionate— at least by his terms. “There’s food in your bowl, isn’t there?” He checks, looking over at the two blue bowls sitting on a dingy plastic mat with cutesy paw pads printed all over meant to contain the pigsty you usually leave after you eat. They’re full. He checks again, and then a third time. Just to make sure he’s not seeing things.

He nudges you again with his foot, this time pushing you a little. “Go, go eat.” His voice rises in pitch, he’s almost cooing at you. You don’t move at all, only tilt your head dumbly, fluffy ears perking as if trying to hear him right. Leon can physically feel the exhaustion soaking into his body like a sponge at the thought of having to figure out what you could possibly want from him. He’s done everything already, hasn’t he?

He slumps against the couch and groans, letting out another sigh right after. Groan and sigh, he could train you with those noises alone. Groan and sigh, they mean leave him alone. You won’t, though. A hard chin rests on his lap, and your big, sad, rheum-coated eyes stare up at him pleadingly. He starts to feel bad. His hand finds the top of your head and ruffles your fur, rough fingers tugging lightly at your ears. He stays there, mindlessly petting you. Lost in thought while he stares into your eyes. You lean into the touch eagerly, tongue lolling out with your happy panting. Leon squints. 

“Is that a flea?” 

Both hands now search through the fur along your ears, and then at the tufts on your throat that lead down to your belly. You plop down onto your side contentedly, mistaking his probing touches for affection, and Leon leans forward, raking his fingers through your tail. 

“Since when do you have fleas?” He looks worried— that’s new. If you have fleas, will he get fleas? He can’t have that. No way. Not in his house. 

He gets up and hastens towards the bathroom. You yip in alarm, following quickly, looking the happiest you’ve been in ages.

Leon doesn’t waste any time running a bath, sitting on the edge, and searching anxiously on his phone while he waits for the water to rise. 

How to get rid of fleas on dogs. 

He reads the first thing that pops up, something about a soapy ring around your neck and a flea comb. He doesn’t have that. He considers calling Ashley for a moment, before quickly relinquishing the thought. She has tons of pups, and she actually takes care of them, but he doesn’t want help. He’s a man; he can take care of this himself. He can get rid of some measly fleas by himself. Plus, he knows that once he invites her over, he’ll never get her to leave, and he’ll end up in a drunken stupor somehow.

The bath is full enough. He turns the knobs, and the water stops running. A small hand towel is stuffed into the drain, keeping the tub from emptying. “Alright boy,” Leon grunts, picking you up by your belly. “Into the water you go.”

He places you down into the warm water, your face blanking with confusion as your fur sticks to your skin. The water reaches the top of your belly, but the rest of you sticks out. You start to tremble like one of those apple-headed chihuahuas, cold. Leon pats your head, attempting to soothe you. 

“There, there,” he frowns, looking around helplessly. Right. No dog shampoo. Nothing bad will happen if he uses his shampoo on you, right? You’re human enough. It’s not like you’re entirely covered in fur. Uncapping the 2 in 1 he uses, he drizzles it over your back, the cold gel making you yip pitifully. “Shhh.”

He rubs the thick liquid onto your back, and then into your fluffy belly. Behind the ears, under your tail— he even goes as far as to get your paw pads into the mix. No matter how much you whine and squirm in protest, he doesn’t falter, merely sparing you with a few gentle words before continuing. Unexpectedly, he’s entirely focused on you. Not his phone, or the glass of alcohol he always nurses. Just you. 

He manages to pluck some fleas out of your fur by hand, but some stick to your skin like glue, hidden well behind layers and layers of matted fur. 

Leon curses under his breath, deciding to get closer. He kneels in front of the tub and tugs you close, working harder to get the results he wants. He’d get rid of those pesky fleas one way or another.

It takes a large amount of elbow grease and time, but eventually, Leon thinks he’s managed to get most of them out. Now, he’s toweling you dry, grimacing in disgust as he watches the murky water trickle into the drain from afar, dead fleas circling the rim idly. He’ll have to clean that soon. The worst of the worst is over though, and he finally gets a chance to catch his breath. You look happy to be out of the water— happy to be clean.

Your fur, once dull and dusty, shines bright, a healthy gleam glazing over your fluff. It’s pretty, he thinks. And it smells great. Way better than the wet dog smell you always carry around. A hint of vanilla and a trace of oats. Some honey, too. Leon inhales deeply, relishing the fresh scent. He pets the top of your head, threading his fingers through the fur around your ears.

“There we go,” He hums, “Isn’t that better? You’re not stinking up the house anymore, buddy.” He coos, ruffling your hair, purposefully riling you up. The bath did wonders, thank god. He was starting to consider building a dog house for you out back.

You wag your soggy tail and shake your head rapidly to dry off, sending specks of water flying everywhere. Leon tilts his head back and squints through the spray, grinning. “Stupid mutt,” he grunts, throwing the towel over your head playfully. 

He watches silently as you struggle to paw off the rough fabric, letting out agitated chuffs. His eyes roam, going over your chest, where your pebbled nipples lay stiff. It’s slightly uncanny how human you are despite your animalistic behavior. His eyes go lower, to where your crotch is. 

He wonders, briefly, how your cock would look standing tall at attention. Is it red and slick, like a real dog’s? He can’t see it now, the length tucked away in its sheath. 

He’ll have to look during one of your heat cycles— when you’re perpetually trying to get your dick wet and sniffing at his groin desperately. Out of curiosity, of course. Nothing more. 

Shaking his head, Leon tugs the towel off your face, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at your wide-eyed expression. Stupid mutt.

“Out,” He commands with a humph, “come on.”

You give an eager yip, scampering out of the room on your hands and knees, nails clicking loudly against the floor. Leon winces. He’ll have to clip those soon. Today, hopefully.  

After a quick trip to the nearest pet boutique in town and a short walk-in nail trim, you get home looking better than usual. Better as in he can stand the sight of you for once. And the smell.

“Who’s a good boy?” Leon coos, patting his lap after he sits on the couch. You almost stumble over your feet in getting to him, clumsily climbing onto his lap. Leon’s warm, and he smells like a rich old man. Smells, not looks. 

You take a big whiff, pressing your nose into his neck. Your panting quiets into slow puffs of soft breathing, eyes shutting in bliss. Never ever has Leon let you get this chummy with him, so you bask in what you can get. 

The sight melts his stone-cold heart. It’s a necessary balm. One he didn’t know he needed. 

He feels a little guilty. Do you feel sad about the neglect? He doubts you even know about it, but he still feels bad. Poor thing. Not a single thought in your head. Just food and pets. Food and pets and Leon. 

He pats your head, then cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the snot running down your nose. You try to lick it off his skin, but he pinches your nostrils shut admonishingly before you get a chance.

It’s an uncomfortable responsibility, he finds. Having a small boy on his lap like this. A boy that can’t think for himself. A boy that can’t wipe his mouth after he eats. A boy that can’t pee on the damned puppy pads without it leaking through the corners and onto the polished floors.

It’s an uncomfortable responsibility, one he honestly wouldn’t trade for the world. Who would? Having someone reliant on him waiting at his house in rags he’d barely considered clothes beats any wife he could have ever possibly thought of having. 

Who needs a nagging woman around when he’s got a pretty, stupid boy ready to be used as a footstool constantly following after him? It’s everything a guy with an inferiority complex could ask for. 

Leon scratches your back, itching at a spot you’ve been struggling to reach. A pleased rumble draws from you, followed by a yawn. Leon keeps pampering you, watching as you start to drift off on his lap, your face smooshed against his chest. You’re already drooling, leaving small, damp patches over his shirt.

Glancing over at a clock on the wall, Leon lets out a yawn himself once he sees the time. It’s late, almost 10. He tends to sleep earlier, but you’ve kept him busy and distracted all day. It’s not like he had anything better to do; he never does.

The couch isn’t his preferred sleeping location, but it’ll have to do for tonight. He doesn’t want to risk waking you up, no matter how stiff his muscles get. Awkwardly, he angles himself, trying to get as comfortable as possible in a limited space like this. 

Tomorrow, he thinks, he’ll have to get you a shampoo of your own.

[pupsmailbox]

DOG︰WOLF ID PACK

NAMES︰ ace. affen. affie. aidi. airendale. akita. aksaray.��alano. alex. alfie. amarok. amaruq. annie. apollo. archie. arianell. aries. armant. artemis. artois. ash. asher. aurora. badulf. bailey. bandit. barbet. bardou. barkley. basenji. bear. beau. bella. beowulf. biewer. blue. bluey. bolt. boris. boxer. brad. brenard. brittany. brutus. bud. buddie. buddy. buster. buttercup. buzz. cailean. cain. cairn. caleb. canaan. cane. canid. canis. carlo. carol. catellus. celeste. charles. charlie. chase. chewie. chip. cliff. clifford. coco. collie. conall. conan. conell. cooper. daciana. daisy. dale. darwin. dash. daxie. dexter. diana. dire. dixie. duke. dylan. echo. emory. eros. eskie. ester. fang. fenrir. fido. finn. ford. fox. frankie. ghan. glen. gold. gordon. gray. grey. griffon. grim. grimmwolf. hamilton. harley. havana. hero. hound. howl. hunter. indie. indy. jack. joey. kai. kaleb. kalev. kelpie. ken. kerry. kibble. kibs. kit. lady. leo. leon. llewelyn. lola. lowell. lucine. lucy. luna. lupin. lyall. lyca. lycro. lycus. mace. maisie. mal. malinois. marley. max. mia. miles. milo. mingan. mob. molly. mudd. mutt. nala. night. noire. noiresse. noirette. nova. nugget. nyx. oliver. ollie. orion. oscar. paxton. peach. pebble. phoebe. picard. pila. pluto. poppy. puff. pup. ralph. randelle. randy. red. redd. reika. remus. rex. rhys. riley. rocky. rolfo. roman. romulus. rosie. rover. rowdy. roxie. roxy. ruby. rudy. ruff. rufus. ruppell. russel. russell. sadie. scottie. scout. scruff. scruffy. selena. shep. shepard. shepherd. silver. sophie. spike. spitz. spot. stafford. star. stella. stick. storm. stormy. suki. teddy. terry. tiger. tosa. venerie. walker. will. wolf. wolfgang. zev. zip. zoey.

PRONOUNS︰ arf/arf. awoo/awoo. ba/ball. ba/bark. bark/bark. bite/bite. ble/blep. bo/bone. bo/bork. bork/bork. cae/canine. can/cani. cani/cani. canid/canidae. canin/canine. canine/canine. cha/chase. chew/chew. claw/claw. co/collar. coll/collar. cute/cute. dig/dig. dog/dog. drool/drool. en/energy. fang/fang. fe/fetch. floof/floof. fluff/fluff. fluff/fluffy. fur/fur. fur/furry. ga/game. grey/grey. grim/grim. gro/growl. growl/growl. grr/grr. guard/guard. ho/howl. houn/hound. hound/hound. howl/howl. hunt/hunt. jump/jump. lea/leash. leash/leash. lo/loyal. loyal/loyal. lu/lupi. lup/lup. moon/moon. mutt/mutt. muz/muzzle. night/night. pa/paw. paw/paw. pawprint/pawprit. pet/pet. pla/play. pla/playful. play/play. pooch/pooch. predator/predator. pro/protect. pup/pup. puppy/puppy. ri/rir. ri/ruff. roll/roll. rough/rough. ru/run. ruff/ruff. run/run. silv/silver. slob/slober. snap/snap. snarl/snarl. sni/sniff. snout/snout. soft/soft. squi/squirrel. star/star. star/starry. sti/stick. tai/tail. tail/tail. teeth/teeth. teeth/teething. tre/treat. tre/tree. wa/wag. wa/walk. wag/wag. walk/walk. wolf/wolf. wolf/wolve. wolv/wolve. woof/woof. yap/yap. yip/yip. 🌳. 🎾. 🐕. 🐕‍🦺. 🐩. 🐶. 🐺. 🐾. 🐿. 🔆. 🥎. 🦮. 🦴. 🧸.

[tuxedkitt]

CREEPCORD FOR DA WIN‼️‼️💪💥

[batsplat]

ive rlly enjoyed reading ur aliens x tennis + vale x tennis posts and i was wondering if u wld be interested in describing what u think the tennis styles/career for some of the other riders on the grid? obvs im partial to all things pecco (and i think he has the neuroses a lot of tennis players also seem to have) buuttt i think something abt fabio evokes the inherent tragedy of the average men's tennis player, and bez for whatever reason feel tennis player-y to me sometimes (mayhaps its the mopey-ness because i can 11/10 picture him sitting at his bench w/ a towel over his head after flopping a match lol) or how luca's tennis is like in relation to vale, also because he plays tennis recreationally i think (motogp riders superior to f1 drivers solely for the fact that they play real tennis its factual) and he's kinda one of the few ppl on the grid who's height doesn't have to be edited in a tennis au lol. Jorge M idk how to describe it but he also kinda tennis player-y to me sometimes, maybe its the chip on the shoulder (he wld be a racket smasher wldnt he lol) or just anyone else on the current grid you wld be interesting in imagining a tennis!alt of.

had a vision

valentino whenever he's watching a current men's match

anyway. yeah this is another fun one! I've vaguely had thoughts about SOME of these before but not all the names you mention so. another neat mental exercise, let's go through them. adding pedro as my one bonus pick but cutting myself off there because this is long enough.... the ones I was thinking of after that ended up being too mean anyway

pecco: realised that pecco's career timeline actually maps onto pretty well onto a certain single slam player currently active on the atp tour, which isn't going to serve as inspiration as far as playstyle is concerned (lol) - or indeed level of success - but is useful orientation in terms of career progression. by atp star standards, pecco is a 'late bloomer'. he makes nextgen finals and has a reasonably promising if not spectacular early career, then spends a couple years in the wilderness - partly due to injury, partly just struggling to make his game work at tour level. the forehand is very much the standout shot, but it is also the most fragile and prone to collapse, to leaking errors. the backhand is underrated, a very compact shot that like... the aesthetes won't go crazy about, but crucially it's solid and he can pick quite big targets with it to consistently go after. dispositionally, he's a baseliner who would prefer to finish points from there - though valentino does not allow a single kid to pass through his academy without insisting they reach a level of 'competent' at minimum at the soft skills. pecco CAN slice, even though he doesn't do a lot of it. he's also capable of finishing points off at the net, though he'd prefer to do so really just when he's already very much on top of the point

pecco has another thing going for him - he's fast. raw foot speed is obviously a great asset to have at your disposal, and it's probably the single quality he's most similar to his mentor to. while his second serve can be a bit too easy to attack and is occasionally liable to confidence issues (not yips-level double faulting, more that it gets pushed in too much), he improves his serve a lot early in his career to become an increasingly adept spot server. it's not the biggest serve, but it's unfailingly precise and helps him execute his preferred point patterns on serve. paired with the high foot speed, he can generally find a good plus one shot after the serve. he generally favours quite a deep return position - and while his game on the whole is offence-oriented, his return strategy is quite conservative, with an emphasis on a high percentage of balls made to help him reset the point to neutral. the basic potential of his offensive game paired with an ability to move well anywhere make him a relatively surface agnostic player, even by modern standards. his ideal court speed is probably in the medium range, so perhaps a bit less suited to your monte carlo's or your wimbledon's (though the former is a way more pronounced weakness than the latter given grass plays slower these days) - but on his day, he can be successful anywhere

generally speaking, while he absolutely has favourite tournaments he performs particularly well at, he's very much a confidence player who can go on hot runs and long winning streaks. more in the positive sense than the negative one - he has a good floor level and doesn't generally suffer from massive absence in confidence, it's just that when it's on it's REALLY on. during those periods, a lot of his wins are crushingly dominant... he's an excellent frontrunner, and even when he encounters resistance from his opponents he can usually dismantle it. that being said, he is also prone to unexpected and rather spectacular collapses from winning positions, as well as the semi-regular shock early upset in a draw. it's just generally a bit of a mixed bag with him... he's perfectly capable of the sort of gritty exercise in perseverance five set win that does his mentor proud, but then he's also got the other stuff. a common fan joke is that you trust pecco more when he's down two sets to love than when he's leading by two sets and a break. the collapses tend to most commonly be linked to confidence in the forehand going away, plus a certain stubbornness over certain strategic components like return position - again, he's a perfectly capable tactician and usually a very cerebral player, but when his head goes it sure does go. valentino spends a lot of time espousing the virtues of winning ugly in his direction, hoping something will stick. absolutely got the neuroticism to be a tennis player, pecco does. definitely needs a good support system, otherwise tennis will very much drive him insane

fabio: hm. well. fabio. my working process with these is that I usually like to have an idea in my head about career progression and like,, how that would work in this fictional tennis context, because I don't really think style of play can be separated out well from that. usually my starting point for that is, unsurprisingly, the riders' actual careers. the problem with fabio is that for all I agree that he is dispositionally very tennis-y, there's two major inflection points of his career - 2019 and 2022 - that make said career so interesting, but also make no sense whatsoever outside of a motogp context. so to some extent he does lose some of that narrative juice in tennis,, but that doesn't mean he can't still make a plenty fun player. very tennis-y

the thing about fabio is that I reckon he would bring back racquet smashing in a big way. of the aliens, my sense is you can broadly divide them into two camps on the racquet-smashing axis - very unlikely to bin a racquet where cameras can see them (valentino, dani, marc) and definitely worked their way through a fair few on court (casey, jorge). given that dovi probably belongs to the first camp, at the very highest level racquet smashing has been a bit underrepresented for a few years. but fabio? oh yeah, he knows how to throw a good tantrum. he's an emotional player! he wears his heart on his sleeve and you can see pretty much every emotion known to man on his face over the course of your average tennis match. has probably yelled at his team a fair bit during matches!! fabio's career is catnip for tennis discourse. the fans who hate him when he has 'feelings' (dangerous thing in tennis circles), the hoards who absolutely adore him and are waiting for him to fulfil his potential way before he wins his first slam... the choking allegations, the mentally fragile allegations. but also the genuine outpouring of joy on his behalf in a lot of quarters when he finally clinches his first slam!! ('finally' in this context does still mean '21'.) the natural talent is obvious from the outset, but the epic highs and lows TM keep people coming back more more

in terms of playstyle, I reckon it's a lot of linear power. he has very smooth, flowing technique, very easy on the eye. one of those swings where it looks like all the body parts are working perfectly with each other. he's from that school of two-handed backhand players who are so adept at taking the ball from low to the ground that they don't really have much use for the slice as a defensive shot. his style incorporates a lot of high margin aggression - it's a power game but one that chooses big targets and doesn't involve a lot of mistakes. his ball has enough spin and height to make sense for clay - which, given where he's from, you'd imagine could get a lot of french people very excited indeed. maybe he chokes away the first covid roland garros but then returns for glory. plays pecco at some point and they have to cancel the curfew because the frenchies refuse to leave. while he does throw in some error-strewn performances early in his career, it's key for him to have confidence in his game; he can't get away with retreating into passivity, and that's what a lot of his coaching focuses on. he gets better at finding that balance. at his best, fabio has no major weaknesses and is both solid and dangerous off both wings, making him a bit of a nightmare to put away. the playbook against him increasingly involves getting him off the baseline, which can work - he's sometimes a little stiff getting forwards - but also has to be executed very well to be effective. he also becomes increasingly tough to unsettle within matches... forces opponents to become increasingly creative in their tactics to throw him off-balance. fun puzzle to try and figure out

bez: yeah, he makes sense as a tennis player. super confidence-dependent. needs a very good support group and coaching team to stave off the loneliness of tour life. I mean,, actually idk if he DOES make sense as a tennis player, I could easily imagine him being MISERABLE in that lifestyle. but well, when's that ever stopped anyone in the sport. hm... I'm about to give another player on this list a one-handed backhand, and I'm trying to figure out whether I feel like I'm exaggerating the ratio of 1hbh's at the top of men's tennis. but no,, I think I'm good. two out of the top twenty two doesn't sound unreasonable, and there's maybe... one other guy I'd consider giving a 1hbh, so hardly egregious. the thought process here is casey's whole schtick about how great bez would've been if they'd simply get rid of all those pesky electronics. given I'd previously already assigned casey a single hander (one that's actually good, tbc), 'outdated elements of the game' do unfortunately make me think of that specific shot. bez has an extreme eastern grip on his backhand, where the racquet face is more closed and tends to involve a higher spin load on the ball. he avoids the most obvious pitfalls like a tendency to struggle with higher balls or a tendency to produce a lot of mishits - but it comes at the expense of power at that wing. he's also not particularly good at flattening the ball out or redirecting. which actually makes it a very strong rally ball, albeit one that still has a propensity to get bullied by serves - it's just as a complete package, it's not the ideal shot for the modern game

the forehand is also a bit of a throwback, but in a good way. it's not a noisy motion, the wrist is extended and the racquet face held high at takeback, allowing for a clean swing that generates power quite nicely. given the eastern grip on this wing, it makes bez one of the rare players who has more spin on his backhand than forehand. the serve, like that of bez's hero for most of his career, has a platform stance - far from unusual, though a little more uncommon than pinpoint. taken together, it gives bez quite a distinctive style on court... one that is also immediately very appealing to journalists and tennis commentators, who are taken by both the distinctive appearance and a game that reminds them of players they grew up watching. nostalgia-core. it is also theoretically a game that has all the basic building blocks to be very successful. bez has plenty of natural ability and a sort of instinctive grasp for the game that is tough to teach. he has the hand skills that for a while there make him look like the most likely heir to valentino's throne of the academy kids - though he has always been more aggressively minded and wants to dictate points with his forehand. it's a very liberated, fun type of play. throwing himself into balls with his whole body, lovely reactive brakes both in his footwork and in his groundstrokes. there are weaknesses to be exploited - especially in his capacity to generate offence and redirect off the backhand, allowing the most skilled players to pin him in that corner and prevent him from using his preferred pattern of running around the backhand to hit an inside out forehand. but the potential is all there, plenty obvious to see

there's plenty of talk in sports about athletes going to 'dark places' - a point that exists beyond natural limits and a certain pain threshold (whether physical or solely psychological), to allow oneself to fully sink into the suffering if that's what it takes to win. the basic idea is that to compete at the very highest level, you need to relinquish various defence mechanisms. to try to the fullest extent and fail nevertheless is inherently humiliating - but if you're too worried about what it'd be like to surrender yourself so completely to the effort and still come up short, then inevitably you cannot push past that limit. again, this is not a concept unique to tennis, but it sure is one relevant to this sport. and it's pretty obvious, even from the outside, that some athletes are more capable of accessing those dark places within themselves than others. some can even revel in the pain (again, physical or psychological), to a certain extent anyway. the most obvious example of that kind of character from the blokes featured in this post is... I mean. it's pecco. obviously it's pecco. I suspect bez exists a little bit too far on the other end of the spectrum, where he doesn't have the same level of comfort with his own suffering. tennis matches when everything is flowing smoothly are lots of fun, but champions need to find a way to win even on their bad days. for a while, bez is flying high, a mixture of glorious runs and valiant defeats that could certainly propel him to a few masters titles. but if the confidence in his game is ever seriously shaken... it could stay shaken. pecco may have choked a few leads away in his time, but he also possesses a near-unrivalled ability to pick himself up immediately afterwards and go again. bez is far more susceptible to downward spirals, which can be lethal in tennis. still needs to prove if he can adapt his game enough to break himself out of that kind of a spiral

luca: sometimes you look at a man and just go 'one-handed backhand'. idk if he has a single hander irl, I don't really care, his tennis pro version would. if luca had been born a decade later, this is probably something his brother would have discouraged, but in the noughties... nah. also, I've given two of valentino's five major rivals (sete and casey) one handed backhands, and for casey at least it's a major weapon. so. a lot of luca's formative memories are watching his older brother win slams and masters and atp finals, sometimes in-person, often on tv. but... idk, it feels right somehow that he ends up with a noticeably different style than his brother. a case of being inspired by valentino but not copying everything about him, also wanting to set himself apart a bit. the backhand is obviously the most easily visible expression of that, but it extends beyond that. luca's whole game is geared towards offence, to figuring out how to use his weapons to finish points off quickly. the forehand is flat and penetrating, the serve designed to create easy plus one putaways. luca's favourite surface to watch growing up is grass, so he does take valentino's slice and volley lessons very seriously. my general rule when trying to imagine a rider's game is to like... add about 15 cm to their height to keep them in similar proportions to each other - except with valentino, who doesn't play like someone that tall. if you did that with luca, you'd be taking him right into servebot territory, which... well... 199 cm by today's standards isn't CRAZY so... yeah sure, why not. it kinda naturally pushes him to a serve-oriented game that prioritises power over movement. (ofc not to the extent of tall men in the past, obviously by now there are several prominent examples of men of that height who are excellent movers.) make serve and volley happen again

given luca's age and because it'd be pleasing to me personally, I imagine a fair bit of valentino's input in helping luca develop his backhand boils down to 'go copy what stoner is doing'. this means luca ends up with a perfectly good backhand - not an extreme grip, compact takeback, heavy on hip rotation and doesn't really use the non-dominant arm as a counterweight. straight arm. it produces quite flat tennis on both wings, and for all that luca was also raised on clay and is perfectly competent at moving on the surface, grass is clearly his best surface. which is a bit of a shame because there's really not much going on with that surface beyond wimbledon. luca's style is a relatively extreme form of first strike tennis, played by somebody completely cognisant of that style's limitations but is attempting to maximise his chances with what he has at his disposal. he's a real student of the game, a proper tennis nerd, the type to make journalists want to propose to him in every other presser. (gets asked to oddly many pressers given his ranking.) for all that he's a top 20-30 staple, I imagine he'd also be invited to do some commentary work... analysis on tennis channel or italian broadcasts, that kind of thing - which he'd be wary of doing too much of, but essentially he'd be welcome any time. not always easy to escape his brother's considerable shadow, and he does get tired of being asked about him, but after a certain point he's mostly allowed to be his own guy. for all that he has his own ambitions and really is incredibly diligent in working on his own game, everybody already agrees he'll make a fantastic coach/commentator/coach + commentator when he retires

jorge m: oh hey, another racquet smasher! jorge probably smashes racquets when he WINS. very fired up type of guy, basically never needs time to work his way into matches. his tennis is THERE from the very first point. sometimes it's there in a very baseball-y aim-for-the-back-fence type of way, but it sure is there. in terms of sheer pace, jorge has the biggest forehand of anyone on this list. it also has a lethal amount of spin. just a lovely, loose explosive shot, a lot of work with that wrist. even by motogp standards, he's on the shorter side - which we're keeping for his tennis version (just plus 15 cm), making him naturally more suited to returning over serving. I'm pro emphasising his similarities with pecco, so I think he should also be particularly high on raw foot speed. looks quite different from pecco doing it, despite his height really goes in for big lunging steps and makes use of his considerable flexibility - he's really fun to watch with his athleticism and dogged determination to hunt down balls. compact backhand good at digging out balls, also not much use for slices. his ability to hit acute angles off both wings while moving is a particular strength and compliments his ability to generate pace from the centre of the court to make him an all-round offensive powerhouse. his volleys are... okay, but also don't necessarily go beyond that, and his transition game can be a bit lacking when it goes beyond 'big forehand go boom into the corner'. in general, he's the type of player who doesn't philosophically agree with the concept of 'defending', and would prefer to attack pretty much every ball from every position. sometimes, it's to his advantage - when he's chasing after balls and just instinctively using the opponent's pace and angle against them, there's less opportunity for the kind of over-exuberance that acquaints balls with the back fence

given his high proficiency at returning and his relative serving weakness (not super pronounced, it's just not the biggest weapon you'll find on tour), a lot of his offence is taking place from relatively neutral positions. this diminishes the margin in his matches - he's perfectly capable of involving himself in matches with lopsided scorelines in either direction. if the weapons are firing, great, if they're misfiring, he doesn't really have free points on serve to bail him out. it gets him a reputation for being a temperamental hot-and-cold player that is... true to some extent, but also maybe not entirely fair. early in his time on the main tour, he gets some big breakout results, before he sustains a career-threatening injury that he does well to bounce back from. it takes him a while to figure out how to reliably win with his game, to maybe get a slightly better sense of risk management within points and within matches. how to manage the rhythms of a match. gets better at learning to extend a rally and actually make better use of that speed - both him and pecco are at times susceptible to a sort of 'they bash you bash harder' mindset, but he has learned to reign it back a bit. maybe even learns how to integrate a teensy bit more variety into his game, gets better at taking out pace from his shots to construct rallies better. work up to his finishing shot rather than bashing until he gets one past his opponent. still a hothead!! and, yup, chip on the shoulder. the type of guy who gets het up about court assignments. bad line calls. his team not giving him adequate support. shitty balls. the weather. the roof. sometimes it's better for him to let out his emotions and have a little tantrum, rather than bottle it all up and stew on it - can be preferable to get it out of his system so he can then move on and keep playing well. for all that he has a temper, he also has a real capacity to deal with adversity. a work in progress, but he sure does keep working

bonus - pedro: counterpunching is back baby. it's good again. awoouuu (wolf howl). all the non-valentino aliens are way more offensively-minded than valentino was - so with the exception of dovi, the pusher-representation on the tour has been a bit lacking. pedro is not a pusher and he does have a fair bit loose, natural power... but his main strengths are explosive lateral movement and a backhand to die for. he also has more... bits to his game, layers, than some of the other players who have come through in recent years. he's quite natural with the slice and can hit a dropshot and takes a pro-volleying stance to his tennis. AND he's very amenable to flexible tactics. the kind of kid who will play one game as a pusher, realise it's not working, and then suddenly switch to bashing. he's got an ability to... play feasible rally shots from any position, like if he's sliding or if he's just reaching for a ball, he has this ability to flick his wrists and twist his hips to somehow dig the ball out. he's clever, very much a student of the game, and WANTS to use the full toolkit to dismantle his opponents. to take them on at their own game and beat them. however, he is still in the 'too many options' stage of development where he has all this Stuff at his disposal and needs to figure out what to do with it. an ability to both grind it out and be offensive will do him good in the long run, but he still needs to figure out when to do what and how to switch from one to the other within rallies

energetic on court, very much a Character who wants to involve the crowd. not necessarily in a nasty way, though he's not opposed to a bit of needle. tends to come across as quite cool and composed in the face of pressure, though it shows when he wants to do too much. another bloke who's more of a natural returner than server. maybe partly because the serve is..... temperamental right now. he can mix up the spins quite nicely, just the reliability and precision that's all over the place. the return strategy can also get a bit questionable, but the basic technical elements are all there. and a chipped return!! it exists!! very high rally tolerance, excellent balance that allows him to slide into balls and consistently recover well. a real deft touch for deceleration, both in terms of his literal movement and the shots he plays, how he's able to both absorb and inject pace at will. and, crucially, he brings with him a real willingness to grind it out. to win by gradually working the ball out of the opponent's range, or by waiting until they make a mistake. problem solve. again, it's the point construction where things are a bit wonky... the building blocks are all there, so. he'll get there

[plasmabull]

Question/idea about yautja's

A little thing: Okay, so it's eppy time for me, so my spelling won't be that well, but I will try my hardest for ya'll, I kinda just went on a rant at the end? But it's not like a bad rant, idk i was just being kinda gay for Ta'kaul😔. Now to the real thing

Read below _________________________________________

Okay, we all agree that yautja's purr, right? But, do you think it depends on the yautja and age? For example: a pup might chip and yip, and maybe their purr sounds that of a kitten, and maybe for a young blood, it sounds like an adult cat? But the thing I'm really thinking about is older yautja's, like leaders, and I forget the word for the one that leads the clan(please tell me in the comments if you know) Like do you think they purr like larger cat's? (Lions, tiger, etc.) Or, do you think they bellow like gators? Like imagine it(I'm going to use Ta'kaul in this example, it make it easier, and this would technically count as a one-shot and more knowledge about him): you're laying on Ta'kaul's chest, basically using his pecs as pillows, and then you hear a low....purr? No, that's more like a bellow, but not only can you hear that shit, you can FEEL that. His arms are acting as a weighted half blanket, and his bellow is like some sort of odd but comforting message, and, not to mention, he's a huge fucking furnace.

I mean, doesn't that sound like really nice?! Like, I want a giant lizard man as a furnace and weighted blanket, even though I know he's gonna crush me. I think I might have lost my point.....honestly idk, I just the idea of different yautja's have there own purr that makes them, them. It's kinda cute.

But now I must sleep

[eldritch-spouse]

An idea of mine-

Vesper's match, freshly turned concubine, thinks she can take on Kalymir and his dick (maybe she read Vesper's rating of him, maybe she just lusts the big red motherfucker <3), and gets overconfident.

She goes too far and realizes she made a mistake once she feels those spikes. The pain overwhelms them, and she is sobbing her eyes out, crying out for Vesper for help (maybe he is watching, maybe he isn't, whatever sounds better!). All it does is just make Kalymir more excited, more rough.

I hope this doesn't sound like too much-.

[Not at all, the blog warnings are there for a reason.]

TW: Noncon; Genital harm; Gore; Verbal degradation.

If it were possible for Kalymir to smile any wider, he'd have to split the muscles of his cheeks.

Seeing the fight leave your eyes, the defeat and panic washing over. That perfect moment where you turn into nothing more than slick prey speared on his dick. You call for Vesper the same way a wounded animal yips for its pack leader, like you're crying for mommy to come save you, and it gets him so hard he might just accidentally tear your poor cunt a bit more.

It's so hot that he lets you painfully squirm a few inches off his length, delightedly feeling his extended barbs drag on the soft walls of your pussy. Not even the whore's magic can save you from your own human weakness.

Then, chuckling, Kalymir grips the back of your knees hard enough to sink his claws into that tender meat, your shaky groan rising to a truly hellish shriek when he stabs you onto his throbbing cock and snarls his sick pleasure.

" AWW, DOES IT HURT? "

You spasm on the ground, outstretched hand still uselessly trying to pull the rest of you forward even as you lie there with bulged out eyes and a gaping mouth like a fish out of water, barely able to process the trauma your genitals are enduring.

The smell of blood hits Kalymir's nostrils and he moans, feeling it coat his girth, dripping to the floor and marking both your thighs.

Oh how he'd love to gut you right here right now, you're practically begging for it, crying like a baby on the ground- Putting you out of your shame would be mercy from his part.

You nod, because that's all you can do right now, and he barks out a cackle.

" GOOD. FEEL IT. FEEL WHAT HAPPENS WHEN ROACHES LIKE YOU GET COCKY. "

He thrusts, but really, it's more accurate to say he's stabbing you.

" YOU THINK YOU'RE ONE OF US- YOU THINK YOU CAN WALK IN HERE AND TOSS YOURSELF AT ME LIKE YOU OWN THE PLACE. LOOK AT YOU NOW... "

The more he talks, the faster his pace gets, and you know the slapping ringing out isn't wetness, it's the crimson that's splattering on the walls. The smell of metal encompasses the room, and the burning of your tormented womanhood spreads to your limbs. Your stomach flips, and you wonder faintly if you're going to vomit from the pain. You dare not look down. Dare not guess the gore, the tissue hanging off your entrance that you feel loosely dangling.

Would Vesper be proud of you if you died this way?

Gathering what little composure you can scrap together, you try to utter his name again.

" DO YOU THINK YOUR STUPID SLUT IS GOING TO COME SAVE YOU? "

Yes, yes.

He needs to.

When you fail to respond, a heavy crimson paw grabs a fistful of your head and lifts it. You can barely gasp before he crashes it to the roughly tiled floor. It must have been the equivalent of a tap to him, but you feel a couple of teeth chip and your nose bending at an odd angle, foreign warmth spreading across your face.

" FUCK'S SAKE, IT'S LIKE YOU DON'T WANT TO LIVE. " He snorts. " ANSWER OR I'LL PANCAKE THE BRAINS OUT OF THAT WET PAPER SKULL. "

" Y... " You cough a mouthful of blood, disgusted when you feel him pulse inside you. " Y- Yesh... "

He stops then, figure shaking behind you as he holds something in. Kalymir bends further down, holding a palm to where his ear would be.

" NAH, YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME, WHAT WAS THAT? "

Exasperated, you sob. " Nnh... Yes! "

A fist slams right next to your head as Kalymir steadies himself and starts guffawing wildly at the impassioned response.

" OH YOU'RE PATHETIC- I ALMOST FEEL BAD! YOU TIGHT, DUMB FUCKING ANIMAL! "

The pain is starting to fade, as is your overall lower body sensation. He might have damaged important nerves, you can't tell anymore, it's increasingly hard to think when the world appears to be slowing down, and you can't muster the energy to react.

" DON'T PASS OUT JUST YET, BECAUSE I WANT YOU TO KNOW SOMETHING. "

You can feel the toothy grin against your scalp widen.

" YOUR DARLING DEGENERATE OF A KING IS GOING TO FIND ME USING YOUR BROKEN LITTLE BODY LIKE A COCKSLEEVE. AND INSTEAD OF HELPING YOU... "

The fist from before coils around the top of your neck, stealing the last bits of oxygen out of you.

" HE'S GOING TO STROKE HIS WORTHLESS COCKS UNTIL I COME IN YOUR GUTS. "

[tuxedkitt]

Death in the family (1988)

[thecrackshipawards]

Here are our contenders for The Crackship Awards 2024!

Bracket 1:

Shadow Kirby x Prince Fluff vs Randy Cunningham x Ruby Gillman

Roronoa Zoro x Sasuke Uchiha vs Elizabeth Afton x Charlie Emily

June Eggbert x Chiaki Naname vs Vriska Serket x Hatsune Miku

Mari from Omori x Sayori from Doki Doki Literature Club vs Bee x Fionna

Wonder Woman x Talia al Ghu vs Posiedon x Incitatus

Firestar x Waffles vs Graystripe x Waffles

Kestrel x Coral vs Hatake Sakumo x Ootsutsuki Kaguya

Zhongli × Yip Tak vs Elsa x Jack Frost

Bracket 2:

Bowser x Luigi vs Shrek x Donkey

Samurai Jack x Johnny Bravo vs Scourge x Ashfur

Tigerstar x Arctic vs Gerald Robotnik x Black Doom

Catra & Ashfur vs Lucifer x Adam

Hawkfrost x Leafpool vs Twilight x Mordecai

Vaggie x Ragatha vs Rainbow Dash x Dirk Strider

Jayfeather x His stick vs Gwenpool x Garlic bread

James x Professor Oak vs Needletail x Icicle

Bracket 3:

Jessie x Delia Ketchum vs Sees All Colors x Runs In Circles

Leafpool x Pringles chips vs Bumblestripe x A log

Asexuals x Cake vs Tigerstar x Brokenstar

Roger Raincomprix x Xavier Ramier vs Elias Bouchard x Jane Prentiss

Cookie Monster x Chocolate chip cookies vs Chameleon x Webs

Isako Toriumi x Sadayo Kawakami vs Elias Bouchard x Peter Lukas

Dr Doofenshmirtz x Perry the Platypus vs The Onceler x The Warden

Hooty x Duo vs Jiang Cheng x Liu Qingge

Bracket 4:

Sans x Nagito Komaeda vs TS Woodrow x Phantom of the Bwahpera

The fairy who knocks x The walrus who knocks vs Sofanthiel x Blue Lizard

Manticore x Sphinx vs Barney x Hunter

Norma x Willow vs Pugsley x Swift Wind

Eggdog x Strawberries vs Krestel x Tundra

Blaze x Fruit bat vs Doctors x Apples

Miette x Jorts vs Artificer x Maple Shade

Reigen Arataka x Nagito Komaeda vs Guy Montag x Wilson Smith

[tuxedkitt]

X-Men TAS Season 2 Morph