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ahqkas · 2 days ago

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“HOLDING YOU, HOLDING ME — dick grayson.

PAIRING! dick grayson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! he wasn’t just a man in a mask—he was nightwing, gotham’s acrobatic vigilante, a name whispered in both fear and admiration depending on who you asked. and now here he was, slumped on your couch, bleeding out like any ordinary man who’d bitten off more than he could chew

WORD COUNT! 4.7k

WARNINGS / TAGS! wounds and patching up, mention of blood, light cursing + lmk

NOTES! i’ll never let go of this scenario bc no matter how many times i read or write it i know i’ll eat it up ,, header below belongs to @/v6que

THE SOUND OF SHUFFLING OUTSIDE YOUR BEDROOM WINDOW PIERCED THROUGH THE FRAGILE BARRIER BETWEEN SLEEP AND WAKEFULNESS, pulling you abruptly from the fog of dreams. Your heart stuttered, then raced, its rhythm a drumbeat in your ears as your senses stirred to full alertness. The muffled sounds of Gotham’s unrest—honking car horns, distant sirens wailing through the streets, and the occasional shout ricocheting off brick walls—were nothing new. It was the soundtrack of the city, a reminder that safety here was a fleeting illusion. But this sound was different. It wasn’t part of the distant chaos. It was near. Uncomfortably near.

You lay motionless, cocooned in the warmth of your blankets, as a cold tendril of unease slithered down your spine. The shuffle came again, a strained, uneven drag that was too heavy, too deliberate to be dismissed as the wind or the misstep of a stray animal. The hairs on your arms stood on end, your body responding to a primal warning long before your mind could catch up. A knot of tension coiled in your stomach, tightening with each beat of silence that followed.

Your breath hitched as your ears strained, every creak of the old apartment building suddenly amplified. The sound of your neighbors moving around above you had ceased hours ago, and the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen now felt deafening in comparison. Even the street noise below seemed to recede, swallowed by the weight of whatever lurked just beyond the thin pane of glass separating your room from the outside world.

Another shuffle—closer now—was accompanied by the faint scrape of something against the windowsill. A metallic sound? Your mind raced through possibilities, each one darker than the last, as your muscles tensed involuntarily. Instinct told you to stay still, to let the darkness cloak you, but adrenaline screamed at you to move, to act, to do something. The only thing louder than the pounding of your heart was the oppressive silence that followed the noise, stretching thin like a thread about to snap.

Then, a low groan shattered the quiet like a rock through glass—rough, ragged, and undeniably human. Your breath hitched, a shaky inhale catching in your throat as the sound sent a white-hot jolt of adrenaline through your veins. This wasn’t the screech of metal caught in a storm or the hollow clatter of a stray cat tipping over trash cans in the alley below. No, this was something else—someone else. And they were hurt.

Before you could fully process it, the groan was followed by another noise: a faint, rhythmic creak, unmistakable in its familiarity. Metal shifting and bending under weight, groaning as it protested movement along the fire escape just outside your window. It was a sound you had heard a hundred times before, but never like this—never in the dead of night, never accompanied by the guttural rasp of pain. It dragged a sharp, cold edge of dread across your mind, slicing through the thin veneer of safety you’d wrapped yourself in.

You sat up slowly, the mattress beneath you groaning in protest despite your careful movements. The noise seemed deafening in the oppressive quiet, and you froze, lips pressed together as if even the sound of your breathing might give you away.

Your eyes darted toward the window, the one barrier between you and the unknown outside. The curtains hung limply, a thin barrier of fabric that diffused the faint glow of streetlights below but revealed nothing of the shapes or movements beyond. Your pulse thundered in your ears as your mind raced. Every instinct screamed at you to stay still, to melt into the shadows and feign ignorance, to bury yourself under the covers and hope the moment passed.

But there was something else—a treacherous, gnawing pull of curiosity that refused to let you stay frozen. It dragged at you, a siren call that tugged against the fear coiled in your gut. Against all logic, you leaned forward, heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might leap from your chest. The cool air of the room kissed your skin, each shallow breath catching against the weight of the silence as you crept closer, unable to ignore the magnetic pull of whatever—or whoever—waited on the other side of that fragile pane of glass.

You froze just steps away from the curtain, your hand outstretched but trembling in the stillness of the room. Your fingers hovered mere inches from the fabric, the rough texture brushing your skin as you hesitated. The air felt heavier here, charged with the kind of tension that made your chest tighten and your breathing shallow. Each breath you took was deliberate, measured, the faint rush of air between your lips almost too loud against the suffocating quiet. Every nerve in your body begged you to turn back, to crawl under the covers and pretend none of this was happening.

But then another sound broke the stillness—a groan, sharper this time, tinged with desperation. It wasn’t the deep, detached groan of exhaustion but something raw, visceral, and undeniably human. The sound struck you like a slap, your heart lurching painfully in your chest. Whoever was out there wasn’t loitering or trying to scare you. They were hurt. And badly.

The realization sent a shiver rippling through you, but it didn’t stop your fingers from clutching the edge of the curtain. Slowly, cautiously, you pulled it back just enough to peek outside. The cold air from the window seeped through the thin glass, and you instinctively leaned closer, the warmth of your breath fogging the pane as you strained to see into the darkness. For a moment, there was nothing—only shadows twisting in the faint orange glow of the streetlights below, the occasional shimmer of metal catching the dim light. The fire escape stretched out before you like a skeletal bridge to nowhere, its emptiness pressing against your mounting fear.

Then, your eyes adjusted, and the shadows shifted, revealing a figure slumped against the railing. Your stomach twisted painfully at the sight, the breath caught in your throat as you tried to process what you were seeing. A man—larger than you expected, broad-shouldered despite the way his frame sagged—leaned heavily on the railing, his head tipped forward as if even the act of holding it up was too much. His chest rose and fell in uneven, labored breaths, each one visible in the faint puff of condensation against the night air.

His clothes—or was it some kind of suit?—clung to him, dark and soaked in places you didn’t want to think about too closely. The material melted into the blackness of the night, making it hard to tell where he ended and the shadows began. But there was no mistaking the weight of his posture, the way his hands gripped the railing with what little strength he had left, or the crimson stain trailing down the side of his body, catching the faintest glimmer of light. The sight of it turned your unease into something deeper, something colder.

“Shit,” you muttered, the word slipping out before you could stop it, sharp and quiet in the tense air. Your pulse quickened, adrenaline washing over you like a crashing wave as the reality of the situation sank in. Whoever this man was, he needed help—and fast. The knot of fear in your chest twisted tighter, but it was overwhelmed by something more immediate: the urge to act. Your hands trembled as you reached for the window, the cool glass biting against your fingertips as you slid it open. The icy air hit you instantly, sharp and unforgiving, stealing the warmth from your skin and making you gasp.

You leaned out into the night, the cold biting your cheeks and tangling in your hair as you peered down at the figure slumped against the railing. “Hey,” you called, your voice low but urgent, carrying just enough to cut through the silence. Your breath puffed out in faint clouds as you spoke, dissipating into the darkness between you. “Are you okay?” The words felt hollow as they left your mouth, even as they pressed against the lump of anxiety in your throat. Of course, he wasn’t okay—one look at him made that painfully obvious.

For a long, agonizing moment, the only response was the faint whistle of wind cutting through the metal of the fire escape. He didn’t move, his frame slouched in a way that made your chest tighten, the weight of his injuries pulling him down like gravity itself was working against him. Just as panic began to creep in—had he passed out? Was he even breathing?—he shifted, the motion slow and labored, as though even the act of turning his head was a monumental effort.

The faint light from the street below caught on his face—or rather, what was covering it. A mask. Sleek and dark, it reflected just enough light to reveal the harsh contours of his features, obscuring everything but the intensity of his movements. His head lolled slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might collapse entirely, the strength draining out of him like water slipping through a sieve. But then, with an audible effort, he rasped out, “Not really.”

The sound of his voice hit you like a gut punch—low, rough, and laced with pain. Each word dragged out of him felt like a struggle, and the exhaustion clinging to his tone was impossible to ignore. It was the voice of someone on the edge, hanging by a thread. You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you watched him shift again, the barest movement of his hand gripping the railing as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.

“Well, no kidding,” you muttered, more out of reflex than anything, the dry sarcasm slipping past your lips before you could stop it. But the sharp edge of your tone faltered as your gaze darted to his injuries. Blood—thick, dark, and all too real—streaked his side, dripping in sluggish rivulets down his torn clothes. You swallowed hard, fighting the rising wave of panic threatening to claw its way up your throat. “Can you… uh, climb inside?” your voice was softer now, but still tinged with urgency.

He hesitated, his shoulders stiffening, and for a fleeting moment, he looked more like a cornered animal than an injured man. His hand gripped the railing tighter, the tension in his posture radiating defensiveness even as he swayed slightly, his balance precarious. “I don’t want to—” he began, his words rasping out low and hesitant, as if he were weighing the consequences of accepting help against the risks of staying put.

“You’re bleeding on my fire escape,” you interrupted, crossing your arms to disguise the nervous tremor in your hands. “I’m not asking. Get in here before someone sees you.” You tried to keep your voice steady, firm, even as your heart hammered against your ribs. You weren’t sure where the sudden boldness had come from—maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation—but you refused to back down. If he didn’t move soon, you weren’t sure he’d be able to at all.

For a split second, you thought he might argue, but then his lips twitched ever so slightly, a faint ghost of a smirk flickering across his face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the grim set of his jaw as he shifted, bracing himself. With a pained grunt, he pushed off the railing, his movements slow and deliberate, every step looking like it might be his last. His knees buckled slightly as he approached the window, and instinctively, you stepped closer, your arms uncrossing as you reached out without thinking.

“I’ve got it,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction. He was trying to sound strong, but the unsteadiness in his steps betrayed him. As he climbed through the window, the effort took its toll. He leaned heavily against the window frame, his large frame towering over yours even as his weight pressed into you for support. The sudden closeness made you freeze for a moment, the sheer size difference between you starkly apparent as his broad shoulders filled the small space of your window.

You adjusted quickly, hands instinctively reaching to steady him despite your earlier hesitation. One hand brushed against his arm, and you couldn’t help but notice how solid he felt beneath your touch, even through the bloodied material of his suit. He shifted his weight against you slightly, just enough to steady himself, and the subtle press of his shoulder against yours was enough to make you acutely aware of how much he was relying on you in that moment.

“Easy,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as he finally made it through the window and into your apartment. You stepped back to give him space, resisting the urge to grab his arm again as he straightened with a wince. His movements were slow and deliberate, every motion screaming of pain, but he managed to stay on his feet. For now.

“Couch,” the word tumbled out before you could think too hard about what came next. You gestured toward the battered, threadbare piece of furniture across the room, its cushions sagging from years of use. It wasn’t much, but it was better than your window frame—or worse, the fire escape he’d just been bleeding all over.

He gave a faint nod, the motion sluggish as he shuffled forward, his hand bracing against the wall for balance. Each step looked like a battle he was barely winning, and just as he reached the couch, his knees seemed to give out entirely. He dropped onto it with a heavy exhale, the springs creaking loudly in protest. His head tipped back against the cushion, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your back still pressed against the window as your mind worked to catch up with what had just happened. The sharp contrast of his dark figure against the warm glow of your living room lights made the scene feel surreal, like something out of a movie. But the blood—thick and vividly red against the black fabric of his suit—was all too real.

And now, in the full light of the room, you could finally see him clearly. The sleek black material clinging to him wasn’t just any clothing—it was a suit, one that seemed designed to meld with the shadows. Faint blue lines traced down his sides in sharp, angular patterns, adding a faintly futuristic edge to his appearance. But it wasn’t the design that held your attention—it was the bird emblazoned across his chest, unmistakable in its shape even beneath the layers of grime and blood.

Nightwing.

The name hit you like a freight train, an unspoken expletive rushing to the tip of your tongue as you took another step forward. Nightwing is in my apartment. The realization made your knees feel unsteady, and you clutched the back of a nearby chair for balance. He wasn’t just a man in a mask—he was Nightwing, Gotham’s acrobatic vigilante, a name whispered in both fear and admiration depending on who you asked. And now here he was, slumped on your couch, bleeding out like any ordinary man who’d bitten off more than he could chew.

Your gaze dropped back to the gash across his chest, the jagged tear in his suit exposing the angry, raw wound beneath. Blood was soaking through the material, dark and relentless, and the sheer amount of it sent a chill racing down your spine. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to breathe through the rising tide of panic. This was happening. This was real.

And if you didn’t act fast, he wasn’t going to make it.

“I’ll get some supplies,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze of disbelief. Each step felt heavy, your heart pounding like a drum in your ears as you yanked open the cabinet under the sink. The first aid kit sat buried behind a clutter of forgotten toiletries, its edges dusty and worn, but it would have to do. You grabbed it along with a few clean towels, their soft cotton contrasting starkly with the chaos unfolding in your living room.

When you returned, your stomach twisted at the sight of him. He’d slumped further into the couch, his broad shoulders sagging into the cushions as if gravity were trying to pull him under. His head tipped back against the worn upholstery, exposing the pale curve of his neck. The steady rise and fall of his chest—though strained—was the only reassurance he was still alive.

“Don’t pass out,” you said, dropping to your knees beside him and setting the first aid kit on the coffee table with a clatter. The firm edge to your voice was betrayed by the slight tremor in your hands as you unfurled one of the towels. Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you forced your tone to remain steady. You couldn’t let him see the full weight of your panic—not when he already looked like he was barely holding himself together.

At your words, he cracked one eye open, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering in his gaze despite the shadows of pain etched across his face. “Not planning to,” he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, each word dragging out like it cost him more than he could afford. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was enough to make you pause.

Who the hell manages to look smug while bleeding out on someone’s couch?

But the glimmer faded as quickly as it appeared, his body sagging further against the cushions. You pressed your lips together, swallowing the sarcastic retort building in your throat. There wasn’t time for quips or questions—only action. You unfolded a towel, your fingers brushing against the warm stickiness of his blood as you pressed it gently against the gash across his chest. The sharp hiss that escaped his lips was like a jolt of electricity, and you found yourself murmuring, “Sorry,” even as you kept the pressure firm. His skin was warm beneath the blood and fabric.

You worked quickly, your hands steady despite the rising tide of nerves gnawing at your insides. The fabric around the wound had been torn beyond recognition, and you didn’t waste a second as you cut through the ruined material with swift, practiced motions. Each snip of the scissors felt like a small victory, as though you could fix this, like the clean cut would somehow make everything better. You pressed a towel to his side, feeling the heat of his blood seep through the fabric, the warmth of it sending a chill up your spine. He winced at the pressure, his jaw tightening, but he didn’t pull away. His muscles, tense and coiled under your hands, were the only indication that this wasn’t just a minor scrape. His breath came out in shallow gasps, but he didn’t make a sound of protest.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who just broke into my apartment,” you said, your voice forced to sound lighter than it felt. The words were meant to cover the nerves crawling up your throat, to push away the uncertainty gnawing at you. Humor—it was the only defense you had left in this absurd situation.

He let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a wheeze. It was rough and ragged, like even that small act of amusement took everything he had left. “Didn’t break in. Fire escape’s fair game,” he managed to rasp out, his eyes fluttering closed again as though the effort of speaking had drained him further.

For a moment, you stopped, just long enough to take in his words. Fair game, huh? You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, despite the situation. So this is how he justifies sneaking into random apartments in the middle of the night.

“Right,” you muttered, your voice dry, trying to ignore the sick feeling twisting in your gut. You could feel the heat of his skin under your fingertips, the way his body trembled slightly despite his attempt to stay composed. You glanced at his face, the mask still in place, but now that you were up close, you could see the way his eyes flickered with exhaustion and pain. It was like something human was trying to push through all the bravado.

But you had to focus. The towel in your hand was already damp from his blood, and you pressed harder, trying to staunch the bleeding as much as possible. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured my night going,” you muttered, though your tone softened a bit as you reached for the first aid kit. Every instinct in your body told you to move fast, but there was something about him, even in this state, that kept you grounded.

Maybe because I’m not sure whether you’re about to pass out or punch me in the face, you thought, but didn’t say. Instead, you reached for the antiseptic, uncapping it with more precision than you felt, and prepared yourself for whatever came next.

His lips twitched again, a ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was enough to make you wonder if he was trying to find some amusement in the chaos that had spilled into your living room. It didn't make sense—how someone could be this battered, this close to breaking, and still manage to show any semblance of humor. But there it was, a quiet resilience you couldn't quite place.

He didn’t respond at first, just watching you work. His eyes, hidden behind the mask, still tracked every movement of your hands, each shift of your body as you carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound on his side. There was something almost unnerving about how still he was, like a predator waiting for the right moment to move, but in the context of the situation, it made him seem more human. Vulnerable.

“You do this often?” you asked, your voice lighter than you felt. It was a simple enough question, but it served to break the silence between you, the quiet hum of the apartment making the space feel far too small. You didn’t look up at him immediately, but you could feel the weight of his gaze still on your face, intense and steady.

“Hmm?” he responded, the sound rough in his throat, as though the effort to form words had started to exhaust him.

“Get beaten to hell and crash on random fire escapes?” you pressed, glancing up at him as you secured the bandage around his chest. You tried to mask the faint bitterness in your tone with humor, the question rolling off your tongue more to distract yourself than anything else. This whole situation felt like something out of a bad dream, and you needed to ground yourself. Even if it meant making jokes about the absurdity of it all.

He let out a breath, his lips pressing together for a moment as he thought, the flicker of amusement still lingering in his eyes. “Only when I’m not at home,” he said softly, his voice rough, barely a whisper, but the sarcasm was clear. The way he said it—like he'd done this enough times to know exactly how it would go—made something twist uncomfortably in your chest. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in this situation, and maybe it wouldn’t be the last.

You couldn’t help but huff out a soft laugh despite yourself, but it was more out of disbelief than humor. "That’s reassuring," you muttered, tightening the bandage with a firm pull. The night had turned stranger than you could’ve ever imagined, and all you could do was keep your hands steady as you finished the task, trying to ignore the fact that this was your reality now. For however long he was going to be here, this was your reality.

As you worked, you couldn’t help but wonder—what exactly had he been doing up there? Was it a routine mission gone wrong? Or was it something else, something far more dangerous than just a bad night on patrol?

But asking those questions, probing further, felt like it would unravel everything you were holding together. You were already way past the point of no return, anyway.

You leaned back on your heels, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The tension in your shoulders eased slightly as you wiped your hands on one of the towels, the fabric already stained with his blood. The light in your apartment, dim as it was, highlighted the mess of the night: the empty first aid kit, the scattered towels, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air. Everything felt heavier now—like the weight of what had happened wasn’t just about this bleeding stranger in front of you, but about you, too, suddenly pulled into something far more dangerous than you'd signed up for.

"You need stitches, but that’s the best I can do right now," you said, your voice softening as you turned back to him. "Try not to tear the bandages before you... I don’t know, get some actual medical attention?"

You were trying to stay light, trying to keep your tone steady, but the words felt hollow. He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pushed himself up with a grunt, the movement slow and stiff, his pain clear despite the faint determination in his eyes. He steadied himself against the arm of the couch, looking like he might collapse at any moment, but there was something else there too—something that made you stop, heart fluttering painfully in your chest.

He offered you a faint smile, the expression almost shy despite the rough edges of the night, his eyes meeting yours in that quiet, unexpected way that made the room feel too small.

"Thanks. Really," he said, his voice rasping, but genuine.

For a moment, all the noise of the world outside your apartment seemed to fall away. The sirens in the distance, the occasional sound of traffic, even the distant hum of the refrigerator—it all blurred into nothing as you just stood there, staring at him. His gaze was soft, more tender than you would’ve expected from someone who’d just crashed through your window with blood dripping from their body. It wasn’t that it was romantic, per se—at least, that wasn’t what you expected it to feel like. But there was something in the way he looked at you, something that made your heart skip a beat, something you couldn’t explain.

He didn’t move, didn’t look away, and for a long moment, neither did you. There was something raw in the quiet between you, as though both of you were momentarily suspended in this small, messy space. His smile was faint, but it was real—a fragile thing, born of pain and gratitude. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were, how the distance between you had narrowed while you weren’t paying attention.

Before you could stop yourself, your hand moved, instinctively reaching out to touch his arm—just a gentle brush of your fingertips against his skin. You told yourself it was nothing, just checking if he was steady, but even as you pulled away, there was a spark. A quiet acknowledgment that this was different. The way his eyes followed the movement of your hand, the way he hesitated before his next breath, made the space between you feel charged, like something unspoken was hovering in the air.

"You're welcome," you whispered back, voice quieter than before, tinged with something you couldn’t quite define. There was a flicker of something in his gaze, an understanding, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter. It was just the two of you in that small, dimly lit room, suspended in time, with everything else forgotten.

And just like that, you both broke the moment—him leaning back into the couch with a soft grunt, and you turning your attention back to the bandages, your pulse still racing in your ears. But the quiet connection lingered, a soft hum under everything else.

ADDITIONAL NOTE! if you like my work , please consider reblogging and / or commenting . thank you if you do 🤍

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neetily · 2 days ago

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Kinktober 2024 — Werewolf Alex

— ✧ pairing: Alex / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 6,856 — ✧ warnings: noncon, werewolf, A/B/O, knotting, pet names (pup), established relationship, breeding, size difference, biting, cervix fucking — ✧ synopsis: you were never meant to and he didn't mean to. you have to understand...

— ✧ A/N: we are SO late to posting this but yknow what. it's posted. thats all that matters. thank you for waiting for me mwah mwah much appreciated please enjoy idk if its good or not i havent written in so long thank you x

— ✧ kinktober masterlist

The end of the month is always a difficult time, right? It’s hard to relax when knowing that the next working period is just right around the corner, haunted by visions of dirt and hay in the corner of his eye. Like a ghost of continuous hardship— he assumes it’s that way for everyone, though not least for him especially. Completely spent, hours toiling over ripe land—the life of a farmer, he knows, he isn’t complaining beyond reason—has left his muscles all sore and aching, straining against the skin surrounding it with bulging exhaustion. If he’s feeling this weak and tired himself, then he can’t imagine just how bad you must feel every month… A pang of guilt leaving him momentarily breathless as he considers his appreciation of you; he can do better, no doubt.

But he especially feels lacking tonight, cosied up in bed with you beneath him, moonlight pouring in from the forgotten about blinds in the dead of night with stark remembrance. It’s a little cold, he thinks. A shivering running up his spine at the chill that envelops him whole, one that he tries to spare you from lest you’re forced to endure the unkind nature of the night with him.

Well, any more than you’ve already had to, anyway.

He’s sure that the nights are long for someone like you, manual labour wearing you down day in and day out… Perhaps the number one thing you look forward to is those comfy bed sheets you currently lay upon at the end of every night. Soft and sleek, slinking over your body with only the utmost of care— it sounds nice! Real nice. He’s aware of how hard you work and, subsequently, how hard you must rest. But selfishly, he thinks that nights like these might just be a little more difficult for someone like him, for someone undergoing his predicament.

Farm work is hard, but have you ever experienced complete and utter transformation in the light of the night? A horror in its own right, from scraggly fur to his shortened temper… It’s scary for him too, y’know? Exhausting, actually, to go through such change in such a short amount of time. Just a little window of moonlight, that’s all it takes for him to forget about his humanity, even in the face of your utter innocence. Have you ever felt the hardship of turning into that which you hate at the end of every month? Regardless of your own wants or wishes?

No, he didn’t think so.

He’d warned you beforehand at the very least. Given the state of things, he felt he owed you the bare minimum of that. He wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if he hadn’t, right? Now, he knows that he’s not responsible for his actions after the fact! He did his due diligence and you decided to ignore him. It’s not his fault. He did his best.

Oh, but as he stares down at you through hazy eyes, taking in the sight of your big wet puppy stare back up at him, he can feel the remainder of his humanity beg for a much needed break. Fluffy wolf ears twitching in contradictory excitement when you whine up at him in assumed confusion, long well groomed tail swishing from side to side eagerly behind him when you avoid his half-lidded gaze. He fucking warned you, little pup. Fucking knew that this would happen at some point, though he thought he’d have taught you better by now. Advising you against his pearly white fangs that shine in the moonlight swimming in from your bedroom window, urging you to leave him and his sharp claws all alone tonight like every end of the month, but oh, they look so nice when digging gently into your soft skin, right?

And, more than anything, he warned you of his inability.

He’s always prided himself on his ability, first and foremost. Strong, well cared for muscles bulging under the weight of the moon tonight, his efforts to be reliably strong for you have paid off in the worst ways possible, right? Knees firmly planted by either side of your hips, half his weight keeping you pinned atop the soft bed sheets he’d helped you pick out one day in town. You were right, they are pretty, and they do compliment you well… particularly when you’re wriggling around on them, attempting to worm your way out of the sticky situation you’ve now found yourself in. Because don’t be mistaken, this is your own fucking fault, pup.

And yet still, here he is, utterly incapable. The complete opposite of everything he’s ever wanted and strived for, an ache clawing at his chest far deeper than he claws at your waist at the realisation that he’s failing you right now. He wants to be better for you, chewing on his bottom lip enough to taste just a sting of metallic as his brows furrow in sheer concentration of the taste, veins popping in his arms in a subconscious attempt to hold back in spite of your stupidity tonight.

“… Warned ya.” He eventually mutters mid leering, huffing to exhale a stagnant sigh he hadn’t meant to hold. As if doing so would somehow temper him, keep you safe on the pretty bed sheets in his strong arms like you were earlier, back when he was frantically warning you to get away— “Sorry— I jus’, fuck, would ya quit fuckin’ squirmin at least—”

Cause you’re making it worse. Not just for him, though his fat cock throbs with barely restrained want at all the wiggling around you’re doing; even if it’s useless. You haven’t a hope in fucking hell of escaping him, not with how hard he trains his muscles just for you. But also, you’re making the situation worse for yourself… You really should have left him when he’d given you the choice, escaped somewhere, fuck, anywhere but right next to him, let alone in your own fucking bed. All you’re really doing is riling him up further simply by existing, pushing him closer to the edge he’s so dangerously perched upon, pleading for him to take that final plunge. And like the loyal little mutt he’s always been for you, he wants for nothing more than to please you. Give you exactly what you’re asking for, panting and pleading for the opportunity to, really.

Which is unfortunate, because he really can’t help himself when it comes to you. Never has been able to, and he bets he never will be able to. That is, providing you stick around him after tonight… Of which he’d never blame you for rejecting the offer, given how mean he’s been to you thus far— and that’s while trying to stay composed, too. You’ve got no fucking idea what the night has in store for you, and the thought alone has excitement welling up in his already racing heart. God he loves you. Fuck he wants to ruin you.

Don’t ever fucking leave me. I need you, you don’t understand—

“Mate—” he growls at you, chest rumbling with obvious affection, throat tight with choked up lust. “My mate.”

“Alex— W-wait, please—!”

You sound so soft right now. Scared, like a little animal. A mere pup to his much larger wolf stature, shivering with inherent submission as he paws and plays at every inch of skin he can reach. The moon hangs high in the sky for him, whispering sweet nothings down his ear with promises of forever— all it takes is one night to secure his place by your side forever. Forever and ever, his half lidded gaze stuck on your tummy as you attempt once more to flee his bruising grip, though the attempt is pitiful. He could fill you up so well y’know? Give you so many cute little pups— oh, and he just knows with a twitch of his cock that you’d be the best mama in the world. His perfect little mate; don’t you want that as badly as he does? Don’t you wanna be his pretty princess pup forever? He always imagines it, yknow. Thinks about it every time he fucks his fist silly, especially during his red hot heats when he’s left to fend for himself. Always thinking about you. Always wanting you. Just you. And the way you’re gasping and shaking from under him tells him that you like the lewd idea just as much as he does, right?

Because where you might babble for a break, your body is at least being more honest with him in place of your verbal lies. And he forgives you for that, for letting your inherently needy nature communicate with his own whether intentional or not. You can’t hide from him, he’s your mate, remember?

But to shut you up for a moment, he pinches at your waist a little harder than necessary. He doesn’t mean to, baby, but you have to understand his position here…

Cock rock hard before you, standing tall and proud as it bobs with precum adorning his red hot tip, arms tense and muscles taut under the amount of restraint he has to exude in order not to split you in half right this very second. You have to understand, that as the moon shines upon his back and his wolfish tail wags happily from side to side, that he’s no better than a mere predator animal right now. The man you’ve come to love and adore is there, distantly, behind the wolf mask smirking down at you.

You’re lucky he even gave you a warning at all, y’know? Not many of his kind would offer you the same sanctuaries.

He’s not sure where your sudden bravery has came from tonight, but he’s not one for complaining. You’ve left him to deal with his heat all alone on many occasions as per his wanting, and things have been just fine, right? You’re still with him for the time being, still consider him your boyfriend, right? He doesn’t understand why you’d ruin it all tonight, everything he’s worked so hard for previously. Doesn’t get why you’d prompt him into pinning you onto the bed with teeth bared and cock out; he can never stand the feeling of fabric rubbing against his heated skin every time his heat comes along. All scratchy and wrong, and besides— doesn’t it feel better to be bare? To be in your most natural state possible? It makes sense, given his animalistic nature.

And it’s only a once a month annoyance anyway. Trivial in the grand scheme of things, no? You really should have been a good girl like how you usually are and stayed the fuck away from him given his genuine pleading, but alas, here he tugs on your pretty skin just for idle fun until you settle down a bit. He can only hold off his instincts for so long, y’know?

And never long enough for you to go back on your stupid decision, that’s for sure.

Y’know, it was just so easy for him to undress you too, like you secretly wanted this to happen deep down. Hell, he has half a mind to actually believe that despite your thrashing around as he pulls and tears items of clothing from your heated body, that you do want this. Maybe you’re just playing hard to get, offering him a little fight to help kick start his prey drive— nothing but the best for you. And well, he can hardly blame you if that’s the case, given how hard his heart thumps with sheer awe upon gazing at your shivering naked frame, gaze glued to your perfect tits that his paws automatically grope at as if magnetic. As if home; he’s only doing what comes natural to him. And he could never be blamed for that, right? What’s natural is never wrong, surely.

“Sorry,” he’s not really, it’s just the he doesn’t know what else to say in the moment. Doesn’t understand how he could possibly bite back the moons influence on his hormones, a shiver running up his spine at the way you inadvertently rub your exposed tummy against his hot cock. Tip just drooling all over your front, a copious amount of precum to help aid in his sole goal tonight. “Don’t mean t’make ya wait.”

You just look so pretty when struggling for him like this, writhing around on the sheets with a wobble on your lips, you wear fear so well, such a little fucking tease aren’t you? The way your brows furrow before him in concentration—or is it upset? He doesn’t care much either way, really—is so fucking hot to him, has his cock twitching and trembling against your soft, breedable body with insatiable need.

“Alex, I— I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t— Didn’t mean to, I didn’t know—”

Bullshit, he seethes to himself upon hearing your lies, huffing with an air of arrogance while rolling his eyes at your misfortune. You fucking knew. Knew exactly what you were getting into tonight, and he’d even go so far as to claim that you want it too. After all, after tonight, you’ll be his pretty puppy mate. And nobody knows his mate better than he does, right?

Which is why he takes to cooing down at you gently. A sickly sweet attempt to warm you up— though he’s sure his excess pheromones will do much of the heavy lifting for him. Exuding his scent all over you, wrapping his tail around one of your legs to softly soothe and relax you into compliance. “Shh,” he whispers down at you, though he can feel the way his expression tugs into one of pain and suffering. Because it hurts to hold himself back for you, physically fucking pains him to keep himself in check for your own safety. If he had it his way you’d be face down ass up on the bed at this point already, but he’s not so far gone as to act the simple animal just yet. There’s still time. “S’okay, lemme take care of ya…”

The weight he pushes down on you from sitting on your lap is enough to keep you in one place for his affections, letting his cock rub along your tummy and pelvis, smearing precum all over your front as if claiming you in the meantime. His claws, once digging into your hips, take to travelling lightly up and down your sides to lull you into a false sense of security. Opening you up to what will come whether you like it or not, simply because it’s in your best interests to lay there and fucking take it— God, fuck… he’s already so hard for you, dripping his stink all over your pretty body to assert his dominance over such a lowly pup such as yourself.

Though what’s important is that you’re his lowly pup. All mine, mine, mine.

And the little squeals and kicks you let out only serve to turn him on further, cock pulsing and fucking begging for more, to feel the too tight squeeze of your cunt as a promise of shared devotion so late at night. It’s almost romantic, he muses to himself, if not for the brutal aspect of his transformation. His ears instinctively turn downwards at the thought, an unspoken apology— though he doesn’t stop. Can’t, really.

All hunched back and muted growls, he simply towers over you. There’s no chance of escape, no way you could ever get out from under him. And that, the complete and utter lack of control you currently have in the situation, turns him on more than anything else. Having you rely on him for anything and everything, just fucking gets to him, y’know? Tail travelling over your legs to leave your knees all wobbly before wagging eagerly behind himself.

You’re lucky he’s been able to hold back till now.

Heat overtakes him at the sight of your attitude, warmth swallowing his lungs whole with a mere gasp escaping him. Its like a light switch goes off in his mind, spurred on by your petulant demeanour— a deep rooted need to prove himself to you, to have you submit, preferably willingly, under his rough touch and leering eyes. The moon commands it, he simply perks his ears up to listen to her call.

“Sit still a minute,” he hums at you, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek to puff it out a little, a subconscious display of dominance as he manhandles you into proper mounting position with such ease even he’s a little surprised at himself. Causing you to squeak as he flips you over so that your face is squished into the soft pillows below, and his bulging arm can hook under your tummy to hoist your ass up in the air for his own selfish enjoyment. The heat, no doubt, has increased his strength. Always does, which is in part why he’d rather you’d leave him alone when the full moon comes. Your pretty little human body is no match for his fur coat.

Little lamb just wanted to offer herself up for the slaughter, didn’t you?

“Alex,” you cut him off with such a scathing tone, the tasty fear dripping your words as he shifts himself to be in a better position to give you exactly what you want in spite of your bodily actions has his heart skipping a loving beat. Like yeah, you should be scared of me. “I—” you attempt to follow up with something less important than his growls, but his harsh hand shoves your face further into the pillow below to shut you up once and for all, to teach you not to interrupt his concentration, or his begging cock that pushes and rubs pre all over your ass cheeks now that he’s primed and ready to mount.

Though he can still feel the twinge of sorry caught in the back of his throat, the way his cock twitches against your shivering frame when he dips the tip down automatically—instinct imploring him to go on, take what’s rightfully yours—the more beastly side of his existence easily convinces him to continue. Pointing his ears in your direction to hear those yummy muted sobs as the tip of his cock grazes against your soaked little slit and— oh, his pheromones are working, right? Either that, or, like he thinks, you fucking want this. Somewhere, deep down in that sexy little wiggling about body of yours, you crave his pups, don’t you?

And, well… Even if you don’t, you’re gonna get em anyway. Because your body is at least asking for it, and he promised to look after you. Every part of you, regardless of whether you ask for it or not— it’s the job of the alpha, right?

Poor little pup, he sighs to himself, one hand keeping your face smooshed against the pillows, while the other automatically takes to wagging his cock between your legs, teasing that puffy little cunt with his sheer weight and size. Everything about him increases during his heat; an attempt to secure a good mate, he thinks. Certainly not to attract a human such as yourself, but alas, he’s hoping that the meagre teasing he provides to your swollen cunt will be enough to help you take him somewhat at least. He’d ordinarily want to, and does, offer you far more in the way of warming you up to his sheer size, but the night wont last forever. And he can feel the ache of need well up in his tummy the longer he stares down at your slit with lust filled hearts in his eyes. Ogling at the tiny little peek of cunt your arched back position offers him, biting down on his bottom lip to suppress a lewd groan from escaping at the shiny slick that coats his cock all sticky with the shaking he does— tail and all.

He’s got alpha appearances to keep up with after all.

Precum oozes from his tip as he idly wags it against you to tempt your submission, humming groans and growls down at you in the meantime. “Behave,” he huffs when you still yet attempt to escape his grip, only prompting him into adding more pressure to your head to help pin you in place. “You’ll get it, fuck— wan’ it so bad, dont’cha?” he lulls, mind fogged with lust as the ache in his balls grows bigger and bigger and—

Ah, he’s rutting against you now. It’s hardly surprising given how hard you tug around his cock, writhing around like a little slut just for him. It’s nice, that despite how much your lips lie against the sheets, your pretty puppy pussy drools honesty all over him. And he wants so badly to lap it all up for you, clean you up empty with flat tongued sucks and greedy gulps, but his cock fucking hurts when pulsing against you. An insatiable need to breed buried deep down in his soul, a tutting scold escaping him when he realises just how long he’s made you wait. That’s not very nice of him, is it?

“S’okay,” he reassures you with a full fanged smile on his lips. It’s short lived, wiped from his expression the moment he leans into the slow thrusts against your slit and fuuuuck— he’s so fucking sensitive, shit. Got the heat to thank for that, pleasure shivers running along his spine to leave him gasping for air simply from a little petting. Like he’s the pup, and not the wolf his appearance dictates otherwise. “Gonna— fuck me—” he can’t fucking focus, cutting himself off as his eyes roll to the back of his skull as if to signal that the transformation is complete, that he is now the wolf in sheeps clothing. Dragging his hips back to let his cock run along the line of your slit, pushing it upwards so that your folds wrap around his girth and— yeah, yeah, “That’s it,” he huffs from behind you, tip pressed dangerously close to your twitchy hole. This is it, God, he can’t wait to fucking take what belongs to him. “Atta girl—! You got it, promise t’take it real nice an’ slow fr’ya.”

He’s smiling wide and toothy to try and hide his lie, because he knows that he wont be able to last like that. Not with his favoured mate bent over before him like a bitch in heat.

He supposes you are now, at least in theory. Soon to be practice.

And it’s so easy for him to let go in the end. Disregard those well intentions he’s spent so long building up for you, casting your wellbeing aside in the selfish pursuit to do only what comes natural to him, which is to say… It’s so easy for him to tilt his hips at the right angle so that his tip catches on your hole, and the resulting squeal you sound from your pillow muffler has a fat bead of milky pre rolling out to leave you stickier than before.

Remember: he gave you his warning. Whatever happens tonight, it’s your fault.

But he doesn’t blame you too much, not when he starts to push his soaked with pre tip inside of sopping cunt, letting it dip into your hole enough to hear you gasp at the unnatural stretch already. Poor babe, he’s struggling too! Holding his breath as a means to concentrate on just how unreal you feel right now, immediately squeezing down on his throbbing cock, choking every slow inch he manages to shove inside of you with impatient minuscule humps. He even whines in sheer sexual frustration over just how much he wants it, how badly he needs to split you in two on his cock, desperately in puppy love with how good you’re making him feel. Got the big bad wolf keening for more, like he was a filthy fucking virgin all over again—

Ah, but you’re just so tiny, and he’s just so big. Comparatively, at least. Little puppy cunt doing her best to accommodate his girth, but no amount of lube could ever hope to have him squeeze in his full size any time soon. And though he may be lost in your tight heat, hazy eyes struggling to take in the sight of your sobbing frame, he’s not evil. Not even as he forces you to endure the burn of his cock humping into you bit by bit, the veins running along it throbbing with every squeal and mewl you let out in response to his bullying, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Not intentionally.

Then he’d have no mate to play with, y’know?

Selfishly, he hunches over you, ‘accidentally’ fucking more of his cock inside of you until you sob in too much pain. Mumbled sorries drip from his puffy lips, bitten bloody from how downright difficult it is for him to treat you with any ounce of respect, especially when his body is practically screaming at him to rail your shape into the mattress under you right this second, to fuck you straight into next week with wobbly legs. But the new angle he provides is a deeper one, greedily so. Instincts kicking in full swing when you wiggle around to attempt getting comfortable on the end of his fat cock— he’s barely even fucked any of it inside of you yet, puppy…

And yet, he finds himself gasping for air alongside you. Forcing his way inside of your too tight little cunt with eager huffs and knowing growls. You’re just so soft and squishy, like what a good little pup should be, gushing around his cock as he pours precum against your hot insides. His tail straightens in his efforts, as if to help him worm his way inside of your tight cunt just a little more, fully gasping for air as the tightness and wetness of your creamy cunt has knocked the wind out of him.

For such a big alpha wolf, all it takes is one little pretty princess pussy to render him stupid, huh? Truly fucking dumb, tongue lolling out from his open maw as he moans openly in enjoyment, pleasure prompting his toes to curl as you attempt to claw away from his unfair little humps, but he’s far too strong for you, isn’t he? Got you pinned pretty in place, hovering over you to completely encase your meagre frame under his much larger stature— he can see the swish of his tail from side to side cast in the shadow he causes above you.

He shifts his weight around a little, letting his sweaty front rest heavily upon your sweaty back while he pins your wrists above your head. Surely causing you to fall off balance and fold into the sheets a little more in the process, but it’s this action that finally allows his sopping tip to kiss against your cervix, and a low howl to escape his dry throat in utter enjoyment. All scratchy and rough, crawled up to his lips automatically as his grip on you tightens, claws digging into your soft skin for better leverage.

“Fuck—” escapes him, hushed and whined with a droop of his ears. Maybe you were right, maybe he should be fucking you for every rut, right? The sobs of pleasure you let out upon the pop of his cock filling your poor little angel cunt right up convinces him to continue, humming to himself as he pats your ass once or twice as encouragement. You’ve got him feeling better than he’s ever felt before, stark hot stimulation coursing through his veins as your tiny hole squeezes the life out of him so well— “Feels good, right?” he huffs just as much for himself as he’s trying to rile you up some more too, taking in the sounds of your gratification before matching you with his own happy sounds. Smiled moans pressed right against the shell of your ear— of course you’re enjoying being filled to the brim with his fat cock, yeah? You wouldn’t be shivering otherwise, he thinks to himself. Wouldn’t be mewling his name over and over again all pretty like that, high pitched and broken, vibrating with excitement as he lets his fat wolf cock rest heavily inside of your hole for a moment or two. Not for your own benefit or anything, but because he’s sure that if he were to move immediately, he’s bust a load before even getting to fully enjoy himself.

And he wants to fuck you into submission too, remember? He cant rightly do that if he cums within seconds like some sort of loser. No, he’s your alpha wolf mate. And he intends on taking care of you, because it’s whats best for you, especially given the way your cunt leaks all over his cock all pretty and sticky like that, dripping down the length of it and onto his balls, and—

Oh. He’s only managed to fuck half his cock inside before you’re fit to burst. The remaining half still pulses outside, jealous no doubt of the warmth his tip his currently experiencing. It’s a shame, of course, that this is all you can manage at the moment, but he’s willing to wait for you. Willing to fuck you again and again during this heat, and for the future heats he’s sure to experience. There’s no escaping them really, so you should be happy to deal with that which you’ve caused. Willing to fuck you until your meek little body learns to accept his full fat cock.

He’s happy enough to fuck you wide open eventually, internally promising to himself to train your cunt to accept his affections sooner rather than later. But it’s difficult to deny just how good it feels to know that he’s so much physically bigger and stronger than you are, as well as the obvious ego stroking your cunts doing to him right now. Stroking him almost as well as she does his cock, squirming around him so well that he has to hang his head lower against you in sheer enjoyment, a greedy curse escaping him in the motion, prompting a small huff to escape your squished lips.

He can’t help himself any longer.

“Gonna ruin you,” he starts, voice low and tense, just like his muscles as he tugs on your body to get you situated perfectly on his cock. Still his hands remain on your wrists, keeping you sufficiently pinned in place, but his other hand spreads your ass cheeks apart so that he can enjoy the sight of your hole twitching around his assaulting cock. “An’ don’t be shy,” he teases, flashing his fangs as a display of dominance even if you can’t see him right now. Surely you can hear his taunts loud and clear through your babbles and bubbles of sobs, picking up on the dominance of his pheromones, right?

“Wanna hear jus’ how much y’enjoy it, kay?”

And he doesn’t give you much of a chance to respond before taking what he wants from you, well past his limits of holding back by now, all thanks to how inherently lewd you’re being for him tonight. Ignoring his well meaning warnings, wiggling your ass impatiently on his cock, and sobbing for more— it’s obvious that he couldn’t refrain from indulging in your sweet scented cunt; he can practically taste the want dripping from your twitchy hole.

Relenting to his natural wolfish instincts, he gives you exactly what you need.

A good dicking down, yeah? A nice, breeding, fuck.

There’s no tenderness to his actions as he pulls his hips back once more, letting just his tip remain inside for you to cry about so sweetly that his cock trembles against you, and there’s similarly no love to be found in his full force slam back inside— unfair in his affections, selfishly seeking to fulfil his sole reason for existing through your tiny little body; God, he could fucking eat you right up if you’d only let him. He just might anyway, regardless of your consent.

Because that’s how fucking feral he feels right now. Unable to listen to reason, or even his own humanity for that matter. Turned into a useless fucking dog at the whim and mercy of his precum coated cock. For all you probably care, he’s a mere tail wagging, drool spilling, hips swinging, fucking dog right now. Fucking into you at such a brutal pace— you aren’t so used to the strength he gains from heats, he’s made sure of that, though he normally has a decent weight behind his thrusts when fucking into you like an animal, there's just something more about him when he inhabits his instincts, right? Complete brutality, an utter disregard for anything other than how good he feels. The bed immediately creaking under your shaking body to match your girlish squeaks thanks to his rash thrusts, fucking as much of his cock inside of you as he can; which is merely half, still, despite the endless supply of lube he offers you. Tiny little puppy, you’re sooooo fucking cute, it’s unfair!

And for a moment he’s choked. Cock and throat, really. In awe at the way you do your best to take him in spite of the stupid size difference, his knees digging into the sheets below to keep himself stable enough to fuck you raw and heavy. Fuck you like you deserve to be, ruin that pretty little pussy, yeah? He’s only returning the favour considering the sheer amount of overstimulation your tight cunt is sucking him into right now has truly ruined him from spending his heats alone. This is what you deserve, yeah? For not leaving him alone like he’d asked.

Oh, but he forgives you for it. Truly, he does. For if not for your stubborn nature, he wouldn’t get to experience the sight of your cream frothing a ring around the mid of his cock like you��re doing right now, body jerking up the bed from how heavy his frantic thrusts are inside of your tight hole. He’d be disallowed from listening to your cute cries for more if you hadn’t been so adamant on sticking around, the mix of no and stop sound so pretty and broken when falling from your lips, got his hips pumping in and out faster out of pure need to hear you make more of those pitiful sounds alone.

You truly are the perfect mate for him.

Nobody else would have him acting this unruly, fucking into your tight little cunt like a man starved, unable to keep up with the brutal pace he’s set for himself as he humps your hole raw. And God, he’s never felt so fucking good before, completely giving in to his selfish desires as he lets go of your wrists now that you’re sufficiently fucked out on half his cock, only to immediately paw and grab at your pretty hanging tits as they bounce in his clawed hands and fuck, he can feel the tacky sheen of sweat line his forehead as he gulps for air and—

You sound so pretty too. All high pitched and cracked, voice barely able to escape the stupid bout of whines and gasps his girth fucks out of you, but pretty all the same. Like you can’t handle his cock, struggling to take his utter adoration of you as he forces his cock shape against your insides, throbbing inside of your hole with seedy intent. Feels good, too fucking good, so unfair in the tight suck of your cunt, he’s got no choice but to give you his all, right? Growling down at you when you yelp at his rough tugs and pulls on your tits, prompting his hips to stutter just a little against your ass as he huffs with feigned annoyance.

“Be a good girl,” he almosts warns you, though he doesn’t intend on it. It’s just that your cunt has him so riled up, heat radiating from him to meld where his cock pounds into you, a rough tone to his voice as if communicating just how downright fucking desperate he is for you tonight. Like he always is, of course, but this time is different. It’s more feral, isn’t it? All teeth and claws and disregard for human nature. Fucked like a filthy animal, so fucking hot, right?

“Be a good girl an’ cum fr’me, yeah? Wanna— shit, wanna feel ya so bad babe—“ he punctuates his begs with greedy fucks forward, incidentally knocking you a little off balance to fall further into him. A welcome mistaken, given that it allows him further leverage to fuck you open, the feeling of your insides squirming around his fat cock is enough to have him on the edge already— which reminds him. “Gotta feel ya cum around me, kay? Jus’ once, promise, I— oh fuck, that’s it— I, I promise, jus’ once baby, c’mon—”

To be honest, he’d say just about anything to you right now if it meant you’d cream his cock, any sordid lie or exaggeration, fucking anything to feel the way your walls choke his cock off so well like that, fuck.

And he’s close too, can feel the way his thighs start to shake and his tummy tightens under the strain of your submission. So cute when you’re being so obedient for him, laying there without a care in the world, just so that he can use you to his hearts content. It’s what he deserves, he thinks, for being suck a good alpha for you, right? Leaning over you just that little bit further so as to clamp his teeth down on your neck— not too hard! He doesn’t intend on harming you from biting, but his fangs are deep enough to promote your compliance, to keep you in place long enough for one of his hands to sneak between your thighs to rub at your clit. All messy and sloppy, barely coordinated from how lightheaded and dizzy he feels thanks to your tight hole sucking him off so well, but he nonetheless urgently attempts to get you off before he busts himself.

He slurps and sucks around your neck wound, making sure to clean it all up for you before you have a chance to cry about the mess, cooing sweet dirty words down your ear and huffing moans for you to hear just how good you’re making him feel, how thankful he is to finally have a mate to spend his heat with. Flicking at your clit the way he knows you enjoy, incidentally fucking into you a little deeper given the way your cunt pulses harsher around his cock— “That’s it, m’so close too, c’mon—” he urges you, listening intently to the loud wet slap of his balls against your slit; he can only imagine the puddle of slick gathering under your creamy cunt. And suddenly his throat is dry with want to suck it up from the sheets immediately following— “Give it t’me, feel s’fuckin’ good, holy shit babe—”

It’s a good thing that you cum almost as soon as he’s finished provoking you, and the confirmation of your returned affections is enough to trigger his own orgasm. Pumping you full of his fat wolf load as deep as he can; it’s an attempt to mark his territory. To claim you as his own pretty pup, his cute little mate that’s currently creaming his cock, gushing around his girth as he offers you meagre little thrusts to make sure as much of his seed stays inside with breeding intent.

His tail wags the whole time, clearly happy with his work as his cock swells and he’s forced to wince at the displeased sounds you let out in response. He’s barely caught his breath enough to reassure you with “I know, I know babe, jus’— fuck, jus’ hold on a minute—” all breathless and moaned, still yet painting your insides white as you come down from your high and come back to your senses. “Know it hurts, God—” he sighs, blissfully unaware of just how much he must be stretching you out on his knot, because he’s too busy feeling the gratification of successfully breeding his perfect pet. “Jus’ wait, you’ll get used to it, promise.”

Keeping you locked under his weight, it doesn’t really matter whether or not you want to get used to the feeling of his knot. All swollen and locked inside of your cunt— you can’t get away from it. Forced to lay there like the breeding bitch you are to him right now until he’s fully empty, letting his seed pump copiously into your already full little hole until it inevitably dribbles out and down his balls, the feeling of which causes him to whine with frustration.

What a waste, he thinks to himself.

“Will give y’more, don’t worry…” he whispers down your ear, humming gently to the sound of your weary weeping.

#alex🏈#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #kinktober #sdv alex smut #stardew valley alex smut #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #kinktober2024 #kinktober 2024 #i think thats all the tags idr lmao

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akutasoda · 1 day ago

Text

salvation is unreachable, and your my salvation

synopsis - he never deserved you and so he hates you for it

includes - blade

warnings - gn!reader, angst, no comfort, wc - 1.2k

a/n: a little gift for my pookie @https-sourlimes although its probably a bit too angsty to be a gift..

blade abhorred you.

there was absolutely no doubt about that - from the way he spoke to you and how he physically looked irritated or somewhat angered to the way he always actively avoided running into you. although the last one wasn't the easiest of tasks as you did work together but that made the message even more clearer when you couldn't find him anywhere if he wasn't required to be there.

but you never understood why, neither did anyone that knew you two. blade was always the more secretive type of person, someone that never shared more than necessary so it was truly anyone's guess as to why he felt such strong feelings of detest toward you.

occasionally, someone would try and reassure you that he simply just didn't like anyone. however that was only partially true. blade clearly was not a people person and could be described as “intimidating” or even rather imposing, so it wasn't exactly a surprise that he glared at the average person or they found him to be a formidable presence.

but he wasn't like that with you, there was a very clear difference and it was so confusing to you. from the very first meeting with blade, you tried your absolute hardest to be nice to him and get along with your new co-workers. there was nothing that could be recalled that would cause him to behave in such a way to you.

although, as tragic as it may sound, you had gotten used to the way blade treated you - just because blade was always rude towards you didn't mean you should let that get you down, or even discourage you from being nice to him. but unknowingly, that was the problem.

there was once a man, a blacksmith, who was human. he was someone who had feelings that were mainly positive, someone who had a passion for his work - but he was no more. he had destroyed himself, in a way akin to how he used to melt down failed weapons, and then had painfully built himself back up to physically embody what he had once found a great joy in crafting.

he had become a weapon.

one armed with a similar blade that had once been used to pierce his body over and over, that caused him so much pain and suffering. killing any remaining remnants of the man he once was - any part of him that was still there after the mara spread through his very body and infected his mind.

and ever since that man had died. blade was born.

blade embodied all the pain and suffering that past figure caused. he wasn't used to any sort of positive feeling whether it be experiencing or receiving. and so when you came along, a positive presence that entered his life, blade wouldn't admit it, but it felt so foreign to him that it was scary.

blade would've preferred his first experience with you to be one of violence than you being genuinely kind to him. at least that would've been something he was used to, something familiar that would make him more likely to adjust to your presence quicker - but that affection that was so distant to him made it harder.

somewhere along the line, blade had noticed something different. the pure hatred he held for you had begun to morph into a foreign feeling that confused him - why was he feeling this way? what had evoked these feelings?

blade’s lack of comprehension when it came to figuring out his feelings wasn't doing him any favors. he couldn't figure out exactly what these feelings meant or even what they were and even though he desperately tried to push them away, they always came back stronger,

in all honesty, it scared him. so eventually it resulted in more anger resonating inside his mind, hatred that eventually became associated with you - before you came along, blade was somewhat content with his life as a weapon, it was simple. but now you entered his life and now he was experiencing all these confusing feelings that evoked more fear into him than any fight ever could.

so to him, the solution was simple. you needed to go. blade knew that was quite the impossible task to fulfill so he did the next best thing and tried to distance himself from you. limiting all your interactions and therefore limiting his exposure to your kindness.

although blade obviously was completely oblivious to the simple fact that he had developed some sort of “crush” on you - so the solution wasn't as simple as avoiding you. blade would soon find that out by the fact that you consumed his thoughts,

blade despised you.

more accurately, despised the fact that he probably could pick you out in a sea of people, that he could recognise your voice anywhere. blade hated how he visibly unconsciously perked up at the sight of you before immediately resuming his usual facade, how he would occasionally catch himself thinking about you.

he detested you. so why was he slowly becoming more welcome to your presence?

why had his plan to avoid you slowly devolved into him doing the exact opposite?

however, you had interpreted this as him finally coming around to you - something that was somewhat accurate but blade didn't want you to notice his sudden change in behavior. you noticed the small signs that slipped through his facade and you secretly were overjoyed that he finally had stopped seemingly hating you.

although, you didn't change how you acted around him. a small part of you was scared that it may destroy the progress you two had made. maybe he truly did just need some more time to get used to you being around, get accustomed to your presence?

but blade was no better off. spending even that little bit more time with you had led to those unknown feelings brewing inside him grow even more. they consumed his brain and what was left of his heart, warm, fuzzy feelings that he wished to desperately rip from his body - for the first time, he even began wishing that his mara would begin to act up and bring some sense back to him.

although there seemed to be nothing blade could do to drag himself away from you. he began craving your presence, wishing to hear your voice and admire you. each time these thoughts consumed him, he quickly caught himself and tried bringing some semblance of sense back to his mind.

and so he resorted to what he knew best - violence.

he could try and block out the pain and betrayal in your eyes when he drew his blade at you, pointing it directly at your heart.

he could try and convince himself that it wasn't him who was spitting insults and threats at you. words that seemed to be pure words of hatred and disgust but really masked the pure affection and longing he had for you.

but he was scared. loving you would mean letting you past his walls and facades, showing you the very little human sides of him that remained intact and could experience vulnerability. but letting you in was exactly what those parts of him would want.

unfortunately, blade hated you.

he hated longing for the life that he could have with you. he hated how you made him feel.

and even if he did accept his feelings, you deserve someone better - perhaps the man he once was, not the just the fractured remnants.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

#—stellaronhvnters.#x reader #x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #hsr blade #blade x reader

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mad-scientist-enthusiast · 3 days ago

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Real Rashid thought Daniel Molloy's book would be his big break. Once a well-respected agent of the Talamasca with a window office in the London HQ, Rashid felt that he had been demoted in a way by having to play butler in Dubai for the past 5 years. He really thought he could crack this Armand guy by appealing to his upbringing in the Islamic faith, however he severely underestimated just how long it had been since the subject was last human. Armand was alien to him; a creature he couldn't begin to understand. But still, Rashid tried his best to do so, eventually working his way up the penthouse staff until he became the personal assistant of the undead couple. He expected a breakthrough— maybe a promotion in the Talamasca, or a raise in his pay from the vampires—but none came. Instead he suffered through ushering purchased victims to their inhuman executioner, setting the table for a meal of freshly sedated rabbit, and sanitizing the bedroom after some particularly messy BDSM activities. Rashid quickly learned that all the blood he had to clean was actually his employers' ejaculate, which caused him to take a massive hit of psychic damage each time he rinsed it off of one of their silicone sex toys. All this is to say, Rashid really thought Daniel would be his ticket out. The man was an expert at pissing these vampires off; he knew just where to strike his blows, what questions to ask, what faults to uncover. Rashid knew this would end with a bang, however this was not the kind of bang he anticipated. Rashid had no problem with gay people; he hung out with a few queers in his time at Oxford. But there's a difference between being gay, and impersonating your staff member for a BDSM roleplay thing with your husband to psychosexually manipulate an old man. He thought the explosive divorce would be the end of these antics, but that was foolish of Rashid. As he walked to the bedroom door, iPad in hand, hoping to catch the vampire Armand in a moment of solace so that the two of them could finalize his divorce settlement with Louis de Pointe du Lac, he heard the faint sound of movement inside. That should have been enough to put him off, but in his defense, he really didn't expect to open the door and see his employer spreading a pair of 69 year old asscheeks and promptly sticking his tongue inside. Daniel Molloy, his one saving grace, was handcuffed to the bars behind the bed and decidedly very naked. His whole body was flushed and blood dripped from his neck and other places where Armand had undoubtedly bit him. It was then that Daniel Molloy looked over at him, and Rashid felt his blood run cold. All his hopes and dreams of getting out of this job flew out the window. He could see it already; Armand taking him with when he moves out of the penthouse, and he'd be playing butler for another 5 years—this time in America where Armand has moved in with Daniel Molloy. Rashid had witnessed more than his fair share of vampire genitals in his time with Armand and Louis, and he did NOT want to see any more wrinkled old man dick!! And so it was then that Real Rashid finally decided to quit his job. The Talamasca did not have good enough healthcare benefits to make up for the psychological damage he would have from staying under Armand's employment.

#devil's minion #real rashid #rashid iwtv #bally gill #armandaniel #devils minion #iwtv crack #iwtv fic #ficlet #the vampire armand #interview with the vampire #real rashid iwtv #amc iwtv

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rokkit-story-time · 2 days ago

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"L-look, I just... I wanted to chill out for a few days, yeah? Cats are a good form for that!"

I nodded slowly as I kept petting. The slow, gentle strokes along his fur seemed to be helping. "And now you've forgotten... how your power works?"

"No!" It was less a shout and more a whine. I decided to assume it was the cat body changing the quality of the voice. "I... I don't have a 'default' or anything, you know? I don't just 'shift back' to my original self, I actively turn *into* it each time. A-and now I'm..." They tuck their nose between their paws. "...I can't picture what I looked like clearly enough to change..."

Oh. "I have some pictures of us from a year or two back. Would that help?"

He looked up at me and blinked, then lowered his head back onto the couch. "Yeah... yeah that should be enough to go off of. Now all the panic feels a little silly..."

I didn't reach for my wallet right away. "I mean, you couldn't have known when I'd come over."

"Yeah, I guess, but even if it was a little uncanny, I could've turned back into something with hands and sent you a message asking..."

"...so why didn't you?" There was something else here. I could feel it. So I started nudging. "And before you say you were panicking too much, you've been silent for *days*. That doesn't seem like a short-term lapse in judgement."

"W-well, I was still enjoying being a cat up until yesterday!" The protest was weak; there *was* something else going on. "A-and..."

"And... you didn't want to change back?" I offered.

"No! M-maybe?" They tensed like they wanted to flee, but slowly relaxed again under my continued reassuring scritches. "I want to change back into a *human* again, b-but..."

I looked at them with a smile and nodded. "But...?"

They looked at me, then shifted to rest their chin on my leg. "...remember last year? At that club event?"

They paused, so I nodded and continued for them. "I wanted a possible hookup and you decided the discount was worth it, so we ditched the faux-het-couple routine by you turning into a girl." I tried to keep any smugness out of my encouraging smile. They were different that night, and no amount of excuses had made me forget just how.

"W-well, I, um... th-that was the first time I'd ever done that." They refused to look at me, but I nodded anyway. "But it... w-wasn't the last? I-I mean, it was the last in... in public..."

They seemed to have trouble continuing, so I offered another nudge. "...but sometimes you'd do it again in private...?"

"...yeah. I... I tried out different looks and body types. A few of them I really liked. And sometimes, I... I caught myself wishing I could wear a look all the time. While going about my life, you know?"

"...why can't you~?"

They raised their head, and even the cat features managed to look utterly incredulous. "What, do you want me to out myself as a shifter!? Or are you suggesting I fake my own death or something?"

I couldn't help but laugh as I shook my head. "Nothing that dramatic! C'mon, you can be subtle. Call up a therapist, talk about your feelings a bit, get a prescription for some new medication..."

"...so like... actually transition...?"

I nodded. "If that's how you feel, then yeah." My smile widened as I scritched under their chin for a moment. "In case it wasn't clear, I'm here for you and will always support you fully. And I say you should do what feels right!"

"M-maybe. But that whole plan feels, I dunno... a little disingenuous?"

"So you can pass better than most and won't actually need any HRT or any surgery. Does that change who you want to be?"

She laid there for a long moment before responding. "...no..."

I nodded, still alternating between head scritches and long pets down her body. "...have a name in mind~?"

"...Coral..."

"Damn, you picked a pretty one~" I flopped back against the couch. "You've really been thinking about this ever since that night at the club, huh?"

"...yeah..." She was silent for a few more moments before speaking up again. "...sorry. I... I should've talked to you about it before now. I kept meaning to! But there was always some excuse I'd give myself, and then I wouldn't be able to speak up, and..."

I just nodded. "I get it. Kind of a shame, though... I could've asked you out waaay sooner."

"You... what!?" Watching the cat body language take over as she suddenly leapt up and backwards made it *really* hard not to laugh, but I held it down.

"Well yeah, remember how I kept saying I wanted to make sure I only left with the cutest girl at the club? Well, the cutest girl at the club that night was *you*. But I couldn't just say, 'hey you should turn yourself into a girl more so we can date' or anything. Glad I didn't too, or I wouldn't get the chance to see what other cute looks you've grown attached to~"

"Y-yeah, I-I guess you're right!" The panic in Coral's voice was similar to when I'd first gotten there, but somehow much more gay this time. "I uhhh, I should probably go change then!"

I patted my pocket as she dashed for the stairs. "Need that picture~?"

She stopped. "...no. Not right now, at least." She looked back at me with what I could only assume was the cat version of an emotional smile. It was *adorable*. "Thank you~"

I just nodded again as she turned and zoomed up the stairs, excited to see what she might look like when she came back down.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

#first person narration #my writing #writing prompts #transfem #lesbian narrator

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mishacakes · 2 days ago

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I have a quick question… and you don’t have to answer this and it might be a little complex too, but I’m just genuinely curious… what is your lore for Nekomata’s and Bakeneko’s?

YEAAAA LORE TIME!!!

it iiiisss a little complex, so let's put this under a read more. but here's a quick rundown of what i like calling the "nekoverse" haha

Bakeneko - one tail, ability to shapeshift, some mystic power but mainly control over their own body and energy. if there’s any other sorcery adjacent powers they are pretty weak compared to nekomatas. silly lil pranksters here for vibes, can be harmful but more often are just lil guys here for a good time. What Tomiko is.

Nekomata - two tails, greater shapeshifting, greater control over mystic powers, necromancy abilities. Hate humans, murderous, cruel, creatures you really don’t want to cross. Bakenekos are like “teehee gotcha” nekomata are like “i’ll kill you. i’ll fucking kill you. I’ll eat your soul. then i’ll resurrect your body and make you watch as it kills your whole family. then i’ll eat their souls. then i’ll eat you again.” What Nekomama is.

While in actual yokai lore bakeneko and nekomata are two different cats, in the “nekoverse” it’s like a pokemon evolution. Every nekomata is born as a bakeneko, but to become a nekomata they have to 1) have a greater grasp on their powers and b) make the choice to change. For Nekomama (Tomiko’s mom) she became a nekomata when humans destroyed her mountain forest home, using the trauma and hatred of humans in her heart to catapult her to new powers.

Nekomata also have the ability to eat human souls and use the energy from them however they please. Nekomama ate humans and used them to power her house, acting both as sorceress and battery. She created various tsukumogami, object yokai, and they acted as servants in her home, her business, and her tea house. Basically Tomiko grew up in a beauty and the beast like castle, but haunted and with many MANY eyes. It also never matters if a bakeneko’s father is human, yokai, or otherwise. Mystic cat mothers will always have mystic cat children. It’s gerudo rules.

Hope this is fun and informative!! <3

#tomiko #lore time LORE TIME

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primeofprimes115 · 3 days ago

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Fresh Start - Supergirl x Male Reader

Note: Fluff/Wholesome 🥰

Coming from an Earth where it had been put into an almost, hell-like experience due to the many conflicts and battles that had took place within what was a beauty of life, now nothing but rubble and chaos incarnate, cities in dust and fires that seemed to never snuff out.

There was once a civil war that broke out between good alike, turning into a huge war over a disagreement in the way encounters should be dealt with, how criminals should be facing justice instead of being executed without parole, without proper justification.

Casualties were amount the millions-to-billions in this eternal conflict, a war that had lasted for a long time, many good and bad men and women died in this war alone, many innocents killed and caught within the crossfire.

Cities laid in rubble and dust throughout the entire Earth, some still stood but they weren't the same as they were before.

Y/N dreamed for a fresh start of some sort, his childhood ruined due to this eternal conflict which led to his growing abilities to shape matter into reality, shape weapons of any kind, able to weave matter as much as he wanted.

The war between former allies had raged on for years to come, even still when he was growing up, it still continued... At least up until the day of his sacrifice that is.

Having lost many of his family as he grew up due to the ongoing war, Y/N opted to stay behind and manually detonate a superweapon that was developed by the enemy, a weapon that would've wiped the rest of humanity out if it were to be deployed, a weapon of mass destruction that could potentially crack the Earth in half if used again in that case.

No one could believe that Lord Superwoman would ever go to that extreme to end the war that quick after many years, even with her powers dimming down due to the long exposure to Gold Kryptonite that her enemies had been using against her and those who were infused with Kryptonian blood cells to further make her army of followers powerful, she would risk wiping out the rest of humanity if it meant to win the war, it was always about wiping out the weak where the strong will thrive. If only her brother were to see what she was doing those days after he was killed, murdered.

Most of her followers, both are and without Kryptonian powers, had deemed it madness and decided to flee, before it caught the wind of the Resistance, leading to Y/N's noble sacrifice.

It all would've went quietly but Lord Superwoman was eager to prevent him from destroying her weapon of mass-destruction, all the blast doors had been sealed shut, keeping her inside with him alone until the detonation count goes to zero.

It was a tough and rough fight, Y/N sustaining many major injuries but he kept going, pushing himself past his limit, wanting to avenge all the people Lord Superwoman had killed in her efforts.

It was a far stretch, but Y/N managed to put up more of a fight, just until the detonation went off, taking her out with him, ending the war...

But that wasn't the last of Y/N... Unbeknownst to the Resistance, the detonation started a chain reaction which combined with many other unfinished projects regarding space travel and dimensional gateways created through machinations, it triggered a portal to be open, Lord Superwoman was closer to the explosion than Y/N was, which the dimensional gateway that opened had pulled Y/N in quick enough for him to escape through as he laid there, bleeding out with a smirk on his face, body sustaining many wounds.

The dimensional portal surprisingly saved him, taking him through an entire loop through space-time itself, before he eventually passed out from his wounds as his body travelled through the rift...

Eventually...

He arrived to an Earth quite similar to his, but not plunged in war and with some massive differences.

The rift had appeared on many radars across the States, one specific radar within the Hall of Justice itself. The rift had opened and spat out many debre and Y/N's dying body onto the Earth, within a city called National City, the city that a certain blonde, wavy haired female Kryptonian who wears a red cape and symbol much like a certain Man of Steel who was still alive in this reality, protected as the city's sole protector going by the name; Supergirl.

It was her who arrived to the scene first, investigating what she had picked up with her super hearing, eventually having flown over to the destination where she first heard the big boom, which had caused minor disruption throughout National City.

"It's like a... Battle happened here" Supergirl noted loudly with her cape fluttering behind her softly, scouting out the place as she stayed afloat from the ground, eying up metal-like-debre that was spreaded across the destination nearby the city itself.

She wasn't expecting to find anyone within the debre, she only investigated due to the loud disruption she heard while she was out doing her normal things, gaining a call from her cousin since she was the closest to the disturbance, saying he'll be there with some Leaguers to assist if necessary.

The noise was a job for Supergirl to investigate after all, it could be dangerous, and eventually... She found something, or someone in that regard.

Her super hearing picked up a faint heartbeat, faint as in the person was dying, deeming her to quickly rush over to find an unconscious and dying male, with many injuries left upon him like he had fighting in hell in her eyes.

Supergirl wasted no time carefully picking up the male and immediately called her cousin whilst carrying the male, detailing she found someone who was in critical condition and was bringing him to a nearby hospital...

But Clark stopped her and told her to bring the male back to the Hall of Justice for treatment instead. As odd as it may sounded, Kara decided not to question her cousin. Clark did mention it was a dimensional rift that had been detected on the radar, whoever this young male was, they needed to know if he was friend or foe, a hospital would be a bad idea to hold a stranger who popped out from a rift after all.

Soon enough, she brought the male back and it wasn't long enough until he awoke, with most of his wounds healed due to some magic being used on him to heal most of the damage done to his body.

His eyes shot open seeing some unfamiliar faces and shot right up in a panic, thinking he was being experimented on until a shadowy figure stepped in and it calmed down the young male almost immediately, with his eyes widening further.

"Impossible" he muttered, looking up and down a man wearing a cape and cowl colored in black. "Bruce?" he looked like he seen a ghost, causing the Caped-Crusader to frown judgmentally at the name the young man called him by.

"Wait... Did he just call you by your identity, Bats?" Hal Jordan looked toward the World's Greatest Detective.

"That's impossible, you should be..." he then looked at Hal Jordan. "You also should be..." his eyes turn to some more familiar faces, some he hadn't seen since he was a kid, some he seen that survived and died during the war on his Earth. "Am I in... Heaven? Or is this some cruel experiment?" he questioned to himself, ignoring everyone else in the room.

"I don't see why this would be a 'cruel experiment', whoever you are" an optimistic voice spoke to the young male, one face he once looked up to when he was a kid, and heartbroken the day that this one man had been murdered. "And... I don't know what type of heaven this would be, you're in the living world".

"Superman?" the young male said with a shocked expression before it disappeared. "I-I-I don't understand, you were killed. Murdered by Lillian Luthor, before Superwoman-"

"Wait, wait, wait... Murdered?" The Flash, Barry Allen, questioned. "He's standing right here, like right now".

"He's from another dimension" Batman quickly interjected after a quick observation of the young man's body language.

"And how do you know that?" Hal questioned.

"Isn't it obvious, Hal?" Barry zipped to Hal's left. "He's Batman".

"I also had the same feeling" Superman stated.

The young man observed his surroundings, his eyes spotting the magician, Zatanna and a few others like Blue Beetle aka Ted Kord before he began to feel something off within himself.

"Wait... Why can't I sense my energy?" the young man said to himself, grabbing everyone's attention. "Did any of you take my powers?!" he said with a tone that demanded an answer.

"You have abilities?" Ted Kord asked with an intriguing tone. "Nothing appeared on the scanners after Supergirl brought you in".

Y/N painfully laid down on the bed he was laying down upon since waking up from it, a small grunt escaping his throat as he looked confused but terrified of the reality that he was now thinking.

"You're saying... My powers are gone?" he said with a disheartened tone, realizing his healing factor wasn't working either, which already answers his question...

"The scanners we have installed would've detected if you had any or not" Batman approached the young man. "I... We... Want some answers... Who are-".

"I think we should let the kid rest for now, Bru-Batman" Superman subjected, placing a strong hand on the Caped-Crusader's shoulder. "Questions can come later, don't you think? He's not a threat from what I can see" the Man of Steel remained optimistic as ever in a situation like this.

"It's fine... Bruce can ask me" the young man tried sitting up but failed as he seethed in wrenching pain. "Argh! Dammit!".

"Woah, easy there, kiddo. I wasn't exactly done healing your wounds before you rudely awoke without warning" Zatanna's hands were open to him, easing to calm him further with her soft voice.

"Like I said, you should probably rest, son" Superman suggested. "The questions can come later, uh-".

"It's Y/N... Y/N Bridger" the young man gave out his name to everyone.

"Y/N. Yes, like I mentioned, the questions can come later. Zatanna can continue to heal your injuries" Superman continued, as the name suggested he had heard something similar before.

"Hey, do I know you from somewhere? You remind me of Giovanni Zatara, the Magician. The name sounds very canny" the young male asked the superhero magician.

Zatanna smiled in response. "Giovanni is my father, I'm Zatanna, but you can call me Zee" she answered with a soft-spoken voice. "I'd advise you lay down for now, don't try sitting up, let the rest of my magic do its work to heal you" she told him.

"Oh he was a good man, fought to the end he did" he mumbled which alarmed Zee and the others around him. "I gotta ask, who saved me again? As much as I would love to chat with some legends here, I'd like to know who it was who saved me, again. I swear is it just me or did I hear that man in the blue spandex with an... Odd looking beetle say that Superwoman saved me, right? We uh... Well" he changed the subject. "Or was it... Supergirl if I heard that correctly?"

Before his question would be answered, a blonde haired woman, donning the same symbol as Superman, even the same colors on her suit, had walked in with her cape billowing behind her as she strutted on in.

"Speaking of the devil" Superman smiled towards his cousin.

"Heard my name being called, what's the catch?" Supergirl asked before the Flash scooted out of the way, standing in her view to see the young man she saved from the brink of death, awake. "Oh, he's awake" she gasped before a little smile crept at the corner of her mouth. "I was wondering why I was hearing a new voice".

Y/N couldn't even keep his eyes off her as soon as she was in view, out of everyone else in the room, she stood out the most in his eyes. "Uh... Hi" he slightly waved at the Girl of Steel. He eyed her up and down, taking note of her choice of fashion when it came to her suit, sky blue top with a thump hole in each sleeve and her custom-made S shield on her top, a red cape much like her cousins, only yellow outlined with her custom-made S shield, red high boots, red skirt with the golden V-shaped belt was something he never even thought someone would wear for a costume, but her overall beauty is what attracted him to her.

"Hi" she waved back sheepishly with a smile on her face.

"Y/N here was just asking who had brought him here, and now that you're here? I think he knows who did" Superman answered Supergirl's question earlier.

"Oh, right" Supergirl then answered, before looking at the boy. "That was me" She lightly chuckled. She had to admit that the boy did look handsome, especially with the little scar on his face. She swore she wouldn't catch feelings from just looking at some young man, as she learnt her lesson last time when it did happen. "It's good to meet you, Y/N".

But she couldn't help herself... Much.

"It's good to meet you too! But I just wanted to say... Thank you, there's a lot for me to explain but... Yeah... Thank you, Supergirl" he sent his gratitude toward the Girl of Steel, resulting with a little faint of pink flush across her cheeks. "I... I don't know how I ended up here, but... I think I remember what happened that's now brought me here as much is my head is still foggy. I can explain as much as I can in a short time, if any of you don't mind?".

"I suppose some information wouldn't hurt"...

This however wouldn't be the last time he'd ever see the Girl of Steel, or any of the Justice League for that matter. Upon recovering slowly at the Hall of Justice, answering questions that needed to be answered and gaining trust from other Leaguers, he spent most quality time recovering while Supergirl would regularly visit him every so often.

Y/N wasn't expecting it at all for her to visit him if she could, it was a welcomed surprise to have some company and someone to chat to about anything, even sharing her name with him almost immediately showed how much she already trusted him.

While Batman found it a little alarming for her to be trusting someone that quick without much known about him, Superman however found it rather pleasing to see Kara be this interested in him, he was happy to see how much she wanted to give him company, thinking he needed some since he was alone mostly during his recovery stage, it was a nice gesture, something he would've done if no one else stepped in.

It was quite obvious that Supergirl had a liking to him, her cousin knew, her friends knew, even her adoptive parents knew something about their daughter having some feelings for a young man once again.

No more than two weeks later that Y/N had recovered mostly, but he was saddened by the fact his powers were gone, he hoped they'd come back to him one day but he doubted it after some comforting words.

The League offered to help Y/N get accustomed to his newer surroundings after he was cleared and was trusted to leave, which was when Supergirl thought of an idea on helping him with his newer surroundings, which was a nice gesture for her to even think of.

Superman approved of the idea, even brought up the idea of Y/N having his own apartment paid for him where he could stay for now until he can figure out what he wants to do in his newer life, as Y/N admitted he didn't want to go back to his Earth, he wanted to stay here, try to live a normal and quiet life.

He often thought of a fresh start, but this? It felt rewarding in a way, it felt so much closer to the Earth he knew as a child, not the war-torn Earth he knew after his own Superman died, then all hell broke loose after that.

Kara opted to help him settle into National City, using her secret identity - - Kara Danvers - - as a way to help him navigate through the public without drawing much attention to himself when he hangs out with Supergirl, this city's own sole protector.

What was clear enough was that Kara wasn't too great at trying to keep her little feelings for him, hidden around others, there was times she'd talk about him freely around her friend; Barbara Gordon, formally Batgirl, now Oracle. Babs had a feeling Kara would fall head over heels for yet another boy, she only hoped that this boy wouldn't use her like the last one did.

Her cousin had already known, he could see it clear as day.

Another week turned into a month... And Y/N had his idea of being settled into his newer surroundings, he was happy to have some company help him, navigate him through most things he never got to see as a child, meet new people and get in on some action when necessary, though he was risking his life in doing so.

Kara did scold him once for it but couldn't stay angry at him for that much longer, he was a hero himself, with or without his powers, she felt bad but Y/N made it clear she didn't need to feel bad about scolding him. He was just doing what heroes do, help people and one another...

"I gotta say..." the boy's words hanged in the air as the wind intensified slightly, feeling himself in the air. "The view from here is beautiful" his arm tightened around Kara's waist as they together, soared through the sky thanks to Supergirl's efforts.

The Maid of Might softly laughs at his choice of words. He had seen the view from where she flew plenty of times already, the first time she ever shown him this view was, in his words, "breathtaking", and still he finds it just that.

"We can go higher like last time, above the clouds. Up, Up and Away" she offered.

"Y'know what? Go for it!" he said with optimism, sounding like a good offer in his mind.

The girl smiled while looking up, putting her fist up in front of her as she began to soar upwards, higher above the city than they were before, Y/N wrapped his other arm around her waist as they went up.

A playful giggle escaped from Kara as her cape flowed behind her more, along with her skirt and golden locks.

It didn't take long until Y/N found himself high above the clouds, now looking at his surroundings before his eyes fell onto Kara's, taking in the angelic view he could see right in front of him and around him.

The sky was dancing with colors, dancing with pink, orange and blue altogether as the two were high above the clouds, alone together, with no one to see or interrupt them at all. The only sound being heard was the breeze of the wind and Kara's cape fluttering within it.

Kara smiled as she looked into his eyes, trying to look for something, thinking she saw something in his eyes before she ultimately decided to take him on a flight yet again.

"Y'know? I always imagined I'd get a fresh start one day, after the war on my Earth was over... But this?" he pauses for a moment to take in the view in front of him, making sure to look into Kara's eyes more deeply. "This I wasn't expecting to be my fresh start... Starting with meeting and getting to know... You".

Kara's eyes gleamed with joy as she smiled quite happily, she really wanted to tell him how much she liked him but didn't know how to, so she just kept her cool for now until what he had to say was over.

"I mean... You saved me from the brink of death like... Almost two months ago, I don't know how many times I've said thank you but... I suppose saying thank you again wouldn't hurt, would it?" he asked.

"I suppose, but honestly, you didn't need to say it more than once. I know how grateful you are" she nodded, keeping her smile up. "I'm glad we met, I'm glad to hang out with you too... Yeah" Kara burst into a big smile with her cheeks flushing a little pink that bloomed.

"Me too, Supes..." he said, lowering his voice to that of a little, calm whisper. "Me too" he repeated, while unknown to his own mind, he had slightly drawn his face a little closer to hers whilst looking into her sky blue pearls within her eyes.

The Maid of Might soon took notice of his unbeknownst action of his face drawing a little closer to hers, her eyes widened a little slightly before setting back to a calmer expression, drawing her face closer to his.

There was a point where the both stopped for a moment as Kara's hand softly caressed the young man's cheek, right where his little "cute" scar was, she always thought scars looked a little cool but when it came to Y/N? She found it cute that he had a few, though one of his scars is one he hates to be reminded of, a reminder of loss, she best avoids touching it as she doesn't want to bring horrible memories back up to him.

"What's stopping you?" Y/N then broke the silence with a soft whisper, knowing well that she wanted this more than he did, he had a feeling all along that Kara's motives around him were an act of liking him more than a friend, at least the one time she slipped and made it obvious that she was crushing on him last week when she cuddled into him, using her cape as a backup blanket for the both of them.

Kara treated him with so much kindness and protected him for almost two months now, it was no wonder as to why he was so attracted to her also, unlike her? He was good at keeping it unknown...

Until now that is.

"Nothing..." She cooed with a smile creeping across the corners of her lips. "Just admiring the view" she continued before blinking slowly.

Eventually, not even a minute goes by, she gave in and gently pressed her lips on his, feeling the need for his lips on hers, soon closing her eyes as she feels Y/N give into her soft lips on his, pushing deeply into hers gently also.

She had a feeling he's done this before, but it didn't matter to her right now, she only wanted to feel this feeling with him.

Her left hand rested on his shoulder while her other still caressed his cheek, still feeling his arms wrapped around her as they stayed afloat high above the clouds, the wind blowing any pieces of fabric like her skirt and cape, fluttering behind her.

Her golden locks flowed like a golden cape along with her skirt and cape, as if the wind knew it was the right moment to make her look angelic.

A minute passes by and with a soft smack of lips separating, Kara rests her forehead on Y/N's, wearing a golden smile.

"I suppose my fresh start is gonna be more rewarding than I thought. Who would've thought, huh?" Y/N noted playfully, making Supergirl lightly giggle at his choice of words.

"Who would've?" she played along before the two laughed softly at each other. "Care to go again?" she asked to kiss again with a little smirk on her face, wanting to feel his lips once more with his permission.

"I think you already know the answer to that"...

______________________________________________________________

Fin...

Word Count: 3971

Tag List: @jacenradio7 @jadenyukiyusakufujikiyutoduelist @6rookie-writer0110 @beestriker015 @rodimusprime2017 @ma1egamer @multi-fandom-enjoyer

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bitchslapblastoids · 3 days ago

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interesting but predictable how some of the inherent uncanny valley strangeness of bringing something that exists in the chronically online space into the real world can manifest. I’ve noticed this at all the other tours of theirs as well - some people can have a hard time separating internet behaviors from irl behaviors, and the sudden merging of these compartmentalized ways of being (online vs offline) can be hard to navigate.

I think it can also make people uncomfortable to see their comedic silly billie faves being serious, and there’s a dissonance to seeing them, these characters who live on our screens, along with the audience around you who are typically just avatars and usernames shitposting in lowercase, all suddenly in the same physical room. And suddenly that often completely disparate, scattered, semi-anonymous community needs to adapt to social mores and group norms in a new social context. It’s taking a community with its own set of rules that were designed for and in response to a digital landscape and plonking it into a completely alien environment. And yeah, we’re all humans who exist in public outside of our internet lives, but it’s different when that happens but you’re still in the context of the phandom.

Which I think is what leads to things like shouting out rly profane, out of pocket things during the quieter moments of their shows. because if you comment something like that online, you won’t rly be interrupting anything. you might be ignored, you might get some laughs, maybe you’ll get a notice bc haha unhinged right. Or like treating an evacuation drill as a lol pass the tea yas mommy daniel moment instead of an oh we’re actually here in real life moment.

I went back to my tatinof review bc I remembered writing this - “someone behind me kept screaming at them to "GET NAKED" (particularly during silences in the 7 second challenge) to which everyone in my area responded with claps and laughter.” During my second TIT show, there were people around me who wolf whistled and shouted “kinky” and “ayo ok freaky” during totally inappropriate moments. I remember during Dan’s quieter bits of WAD people could not seem to just stay silent. (I have suffered complete amnesia when it comes to ii so I can’t speak to any part of that experience lol.) after the preshow and during intermission at tit, I heard separate people at separate times making a range of critical comments about Dan and Phil’s bodies in ways that were downright shocking and not how I hope they’d typically feel comfortable speaking about other humans.

I think on the whole, phannies are so lovely and kind to one another. I feel deep gratitude for this community. And I know this isn’t just a phandom thing; I think how we treat one another in public spaces has generally really eroded, and concert etiquette has become abysmally poor. But phandom, as always, is a little unique, because of the sense of mutual understanding and the co-created dynamic between us and d&p. It dissolves the boundaries, so when Dan tells you to shut up, your online brain tells you that’s just a chance to be funny with your fave. When you have a chance to be heard, your online brain provides a memey shitpost joke and your irl self shouts it out even though that ain’t the move in a theatre performance unless invited to do so.

No real conclusion here, just some observations about the rly unique dynamic this all creates!

#phandom #me yapping #dan and phil

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fishyaudio · 17 hours ago

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I managed to work on the headcanon human Huzzle Mug design a bit more today and wanted to write more about the thoughts behind it actually! + Tried drawing it in an arstyle similar to the in-game sprites for funsies

+ Being picked by the scruff by Bauhauzzo as a fun bonus

If you wanna hear me ramble about how and why designwise, here:

For someone assiociated with experiments, self-expression, artistry and abstraction I feel like Huzzle's god form wouldn't be so far off from the way it'd use to present itself during it's human life actually, despite it being more on the less-humanesque god designs side. It just felt right to me to make it express itself how it truthly wanted even before the magical ascension to a 3D immortal being. So, you can see that any shapey and non-human design elements (the fluffy body, leg colors) were kept as clothes and accessories (love the big funky shoes, those were a must to include 1:1 lmao) and all the human-but-different-when-on-a-god (nose, eyes) were just... un-exaggarated a litte. Also gave it gloves to as a nod to inventing and messy creative work + the loose phone in hand. Does the cable connect to anything? Well no silly, but it is an important prop in the constantly ongoing performance art that Huzzle does when going to it's dimension to ask for advice! I love this fake-calling a friend helpline manner it does when talking SO MUCH, so in my vision it would be Huzzle's iconic behavior that it may have practiced for fun from the very beginning. That way the phone went 3D with it during the new god selection ceremony! :-) A fun experiment for sure, I may or may not try to maybe imagine other gods' human forms as well if I'll have time since because its mad entertaining

#great god grove #ggg #huzzle mug #fishyaudio art #bauhauzzo

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rjzimmerman · 3 days ago

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Excerpt from this story from Inside Climate News:

An estimated 90 percent of all traded goods travel by sea, where vessels tap into a vast network of shipping routes that connect even the most far-flung places.

But humans aren’t the only ones traversing vast distances across these marine highways. A new study found that shipping occurs in more than 90 percent of whale ranges, where the animals can often get hit—becoming what scientists grimly refer to as “ocean roadkill.” By combining shipping and whale distribution data, the researchers pinpointed the areas with the highest risk of whale-vessel collision for several species. They discovered just a small fraction of these hotspots have any collision protection measures in place.

“There’s just extremely high overlap of shipping traffic with whales,” said study co-author Briana Abrahms, a wildlife biologist at the University of Washington. “These whales are just having to contend with an incredibly, incredibly busy ocean, and shipping traffic is a leading cause of mortality for several whale species.”

Shipping, cruise and fishing vessels fatally strike an estimated 20,000 whales around the world each year. Scientists say this is likely an underestimate because vessels could unwittingly hit a whale whose body sinks to the seafloor before it is recorded. Climate change could be increasing vessel strike risk as ocean warming and marine heatwaves push whales closer to human activity.

There is a bright spot. Research shows that low-speed zones and shipping reroutes can help keep whales out of danger, while reducing emissions and improving air quality for people. And a little protection could go a long way: Expanding these management measures across an additional 2.6 percent of the ocean could mitigate the highest-risk collision hotspots, according to the study.

Whales are some of the most well-traveled cosmopolitans of the sea. For example, humpbacks can swim around 5,000 miles each year during their seasonal migration. Yet the exact hang-out spots or routes that different cetacean species use on their journeys are still largely a mystery.

To help change that, the researchers collated more than 435,000 whale sightings from a variety of sources, including government surveys, scientific tagging studies, whale-watching citizen scientists and even historic whaling records. They focused on four globally ranging species: fin whales, sperm whales, humpbacks and blue whales—the largest mammals on Earth.

The scientists then inputted this deluge of data into a predictive model, and created some of the first comprehensive worldwide maps for where these ocean giants spend their time.

Now, scientists can “take a really global look at where these animals are in the ocean where we haven’t really always had eyes on in the past,” Abrahms said.

#commercial shipping #whales #whale-boat collisions

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sombredancer · 2 days ago

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Li Lun, a villain I feel for (Pt. 1/4)

Li Lun was the only character of FoF who stole my heart. From the very beginning it was obvious that Li Lun supposed to be a scapegoat of the narrative. The final plot twist was supposed to be a cherry on the top of the final battle, so GJM needed to bring LL there no matter what. LL's fate is in his very name: 离仑 (lí lún). The character 离 means “to be separated”, “to stay apart”; “to keep distance”; “to be alone”, “to break up”, “to become in opposition”; “to turn away” and also “to break into pairs”. The character 仑 is used only in the name of the mountain Kunlun (昆仑), which is, as we know, a cradle of demons and a gate to the Great Wilderness. All of these meanings match Li Lun perfectly: he is deeply tied to his demonic homeland, yet is separated from the man who used to be his soulmate and opposites him now in loneliness.

Li Lun also was the only character whose story was shown to us not as a strange flashback after the main events happened (as it was with any other story-within-a-story in this drama) but was fed to us with small portions (as it should actually have been worked out for each of side stories). It was, firstly, the main reason I was emotionally involved in Li Lun’s story – I genuinely tried to guess what happened between LL and the main hero in the past, it caught my attention. And secondly – reshuffling the pieces of LL’s backstory and spreading them across the narrative were the only ways to conjure the illusion that LL’s part of the plot works at all.

"Zhao Yuanzhou, do you still remember your old friend? Whom of your new friends should I kill first?"

When we see Li Lun for the first time in ep 3, he seems like a real villain of the story: he is in chains, looks insanely hot and hotly insane. We find out very quickly that he is absolutely obsessed with his former friend, the main hero, and wants to take revenge on him so badly as if the main hero killed the whole LL’s family and ate LL’s cutie puppy for breakfast. In the first part of the story he looks really intimidating: it is scary when your enemy could literary be anyone around you because Li Lun can possess any body. (And later we find out that there is absolutely no villain in this story, because LL is a Byronic hero and Big Bad in Mask is just a piece of furniture, because no one of the mains remembers of him and gives a single flying heck about him for the most of the story.)

But to look through their story soberly, let me recap it for you in the chronological order.

Once upon a time, something like 30 000+ years ago, two demons were born in Great Wilderness, a sophora tree spirit and a white ape spirit. They were equals in their powers, were friends for many millennias and finally became Great Demons. Hundreds of years ago they anonymously saved the Great Wilderness from destruction and swore to protect their homeland at any cost.

You all know what a hairpin means in Chinese dramas , don't you? 🌚

LL works his magic to make ZYZ happy. Although they had different mindsets, they genuinely care for each other: the main hero (ZYZ) tried to show his rigid wooden friend things he never even thought about, and LL, in return, tried to learn from ZYZ and to make him happy, too.

LL wanted to silent a kid with magic, but ZYZ taught him that no magic needed to chase someone's megrim away. The kid's as well as LL's. ZYZ loved humans and their world and LL was irritated by them and cautious about them, so ZYZ was teaching him how to treat humans right.

They exchanged gifts, a rattle drum and an umbrella. And it was so important for both LL and ZYZ that each turned mate’s gift into a spiritual weapon.

But they exchanged even more valuable gifts, too: ZYZ gifted LL his unique magic ability – Truth Eye, the ability to see the true essence of everything. Not having it anymore, he could rely now only on his heart to see LL’s heart, so giving it away was the brightest expression of his trust and love for LL. And LL gifted him a root of sophora – a part of his true body, which was… pretty much the same expression of love and trust.

ZYZ gifts LL his Truth Eye. But one day, 8 years ago, when they both were on a date in the mortal world, they accidently found a dungeon where their fellow demons were kept captive and tortured by humans. Li Lun, who swore to protect his homeland and its habitants and was prejudiced against humans, went to berserk rage and killed not only those who tortured demons, but also everyone in a building where this dungeon was located.

He also set free all the demons in the dungeon, included Ao Ying, the demoness who can change her appearance and will serve him later.

Trying to stop LL from killing even more people, ZYZ accidently mortally wounded LL with the power of Everburning Wood he just got. It was unintentional but fatal anyway.

For his crimes LL was immediately caught and sealed in the place of his birth (a dark and lifeless cave). Although the seal could stop him from dying, it took his freedom away for eternity, which was very painful for a creature who cultivated really hard to get ability to move (he is a tree, after all). ZYZ was somewhat upset with it. OK, being upset because of your former friend’s loss of freedom is a good thing, but what happened between the sealing of LL and the current events of the drama?

So, you were friends for literally millenias, you were very close, maybe in BL way, so close, that each of you literally gave a part of his body to other. One of you flew into a rage (fairly speaking, he had a reason to be enraged) and killed people in the heat of passion. And you accidently killed him trying to stop him. Is he a criminal? Yes, obviously. Should you be surprised by your mate’s behavior and not think of it as of something typical for him? Yes, otherwise why were you still friends for so many thousands of years? Would you try to persuade him or to bring him back into his sanity? Yeah, I think. Would you feel guilt because of unintentional killing him off? Yes, of course. But ZYZ didn’t do and feel any of that.

OK, maybe he is too righteous and any unjustified deed put his relationship with a sinner to its and. Oh, no? He eagerly forgives a spy who works for Big Bad in Mask, he forgives a man who hurt him badly and intentionally sent him into diabolic rage which could lead to numerous victims. He even understands and is nice to other demons who kill people. (And, as I remember, in ep 1 ZYZ killed by himself one of demon hunter’s bureau warriors in order to intimidate ZYC. I watched it only once, so I’m not sure if I didn’t notice some trick there, but still). He only despises LL. Also, he didn’t give a flying heck about who tortured all these demons and why (spoiler: it was Big Bad in Mask, and everything would be much easier, if ZYZ cared about it). And later, he regrets that he unintentionally killed his friend and a family of his current boyfriend, but he never regretted he killed Li Lun.

In the beginning of the drama ZYZ obviously despises him and calls him "a scumbag who has to stay in shadows", although LL has to stay in shadows partly because of a mortal wound caused by ZYZ, and can't be counted as scumbag because all the wrongs he did were caused by desire to protect people of his own kind and not because he liked human sufferings or such evil stuff. LL obviously tries to speak to ZYZ and to find out what happened between them (and honestly, I still want to get this answer, too), and ZYZ, for reason unknown, has absolutely no desire to talk about their problems with LL.

It all feels strange. And not fair to LL. Here is Part 2 Here is Part 3

#fangs of fortune #大梦归离 #li lun #cdrama #fof #yan an #SDaboutFoF #离仑 #閆桉 #long reads

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