#thinking about fun transformation stuff for her

[wazzappp]

Can you tell I have a favorite design

[somnimagus]

My page for @kairizine. It was such a huge honor to be part of this wonderful book with everyone, I had so much fun!

[id in alt!]

[tamymew]

character that unironically came to me in a dream??

[buttercup-art]

hey

[cuteniaarts]

What if… Suiren in Vaatu’s colours 😳👀

[strongermonster]

i'm helping out at a creative writing workshop for uhhh i think 10-12s? 10-14s? idk. but that age range. and anyways

a) i forgot how fun this is

b) it's really hard not to like, re-write for them and stick to just "hey add descriptions here, change this grammar, really cool ideas!" bc i'm an adult and not trying to talk over/railroad these kids, but i'm just so excited for their ideas!!!

c) little boys write cool stuff like "what if we went to mars but it sucked so we left, but left behind all our technology and the technology rose up and created its own society and then went to war with us for abandoning them? what if transformers had 100x the war crimes? what if the earth blew up. what if we were the robots all along?"

d) little girls out here writing like "aunt melanie's skin was sloughing off the bones as her beloved dogs tore her apart, turning on her in blind animal instinct. the second she stopped providing food, she became food." and a lot of body horror and dark themes about group pacts and betrayals and ritualistic murder/sacrifices. like a lot

[monster-disaster]

[orcs] Tiktok

I can't get this TikTok idea out of my head... but...

Imagine sweet, innocent Reader who creates a TikTok account to share her charming videos of outfits, baking, and whatever else she fancies. She’s all about cottagecore and girly girl vibes. But then, her two orc friends discover her account and notice all the comments fawning over their girl her. So gradually, they start taking over her content, pushing her to make videos like the "scary dog privileges" trend, where she walks down the street at night with them trailing protectively behind her. Her wholesome videos slowly transform into thirst traps arranged by these controlling and manipulative males.

“Are you sure we have to do it again?” You ask, nibbling on your lower lip as you adjust your phone on the tripod.

The room is dark with dim, red light casting a soft glow from the corner.

“It’ll be fun,” one of the orcs assures you, pressing a quick kiss to your neck before taking his place on the chair in the middle.

“Okay,” you breathe out. The lingering sensation of his lips sends a shiver down your spine as you start the recording.

The orc pulls a black surgical mask over his face while you step aside, adjusting the skimpy black dress they bought for you. It barely covers your ass.

As the music starts, your friend spreads his legs wide and motions for you to come closer. You are slow, trying to move in sync with the rhythm. He looks intimating in his seat, waiting for you patiently with his intense gaze staying on you the whole time.

When you reach the narrow space between his legs, he places his hands on your thighs, sliding them up your soft flesh until he reaches your bottom, pulling you closer.

“Do you think it’s good this time?” You ask, clinging to his broad shoulders.

He hums, his grin hidden but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes revealing his amusement. “Let’s see.”

It’s the ninth take. How many more times do you have to reshoot a few seconds? _

A few days later, in the car, your other friend grabs your phone as you take a seat next to him. You wear the same dress from a few days ago.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a minute,” he murmurs, starting the recording while his free hand moves to your thigh. His rough fingers dig into your soft flesh before slipping under your dress. Your breath hitches, and you want to close your legs, but his hand is already back on the phone.

“Perfect,” he grins. “Ready to go?”

You’re flustered and a bit confused, but you nod anyway.

And so it continues. Your page fills with videos dominated by their presence, and the comments grow wilder than ever. _

“We were thinking,” one of them says one day.

“About what?” You ask.

“We should make an OnlyFans.”

You freeze. “What?” you ask, shocked. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “But that’s a���a-”

“A what?” The other orc asks, leaning closer.

“A porn site,” you tell him, eyes wide.

“It’s not just porn,” they reply. “Sure, there’s that, but there’s a bunch of other stuff too.”

They share a knowing look over your head, grinning from ear to ear.

[u3pxx]

“Thanks a bunch, Trucy,” Apollo muttered through chomps of his bagel. Her bounciness jolted to a stop, her stare locking onto Apollo. It was as if Apollo had grown another head. At this point, anything was possible. “You called me Trucy,” she plainly stated. “Yes, is that not your name?” He smiled the best he could at her, though Klavier could see the sweat pooling at his forehead. “It’s not that,” she continued. “You always call me Frau Wright, or Frau Magician. I’ve never heard you use my first name.”

new chapter update for @strawberricakeandpie's fic, turnabout on a friday! last time @taxkha drew the chapter art and now it's my turn once again! don't mind that the style changed from the first spot art i drew haha don't mind th

extra stuff under read more ;^P | like what i do? support me on ko-fi!

i can't think of much to say about drawing this, so many things have happened since this piece that i kind of, don't remember much of the drawing process ASKSKS

i did remember that i used a new pen for inking this one! watch out for that in future spot art made by me because i shrimply can't help myself. sometimes i draw with a pen for months and months and suddenly i hate how it feels, i'll have to not use it for a long time before my brain decides that that pen is okay again, it's weird pftt

i do enjoy the color's for this one!!!!! i'm so enamored with that shade of purple i used on klav and the light blue i used on trucy. apollo!klavier nervously eating his bagel in the background was so funny to me pftt

and a lil bonus thing, as you may or may not have noticed, i usually draw apollo with a yellow pupil, and since he's in klavier's body...

klavier!apollo also has a yellow pupil! i usually give klav a blue one so teehees :^]

i think giving body-swapped characters little traits of each other is pretty fun! i've been doing it with klav!apollo's two strands of hair that keep sticking up and apollo!klav's bottom lashes pftt

if you managed to read this far and still have not read the fic, what're you doing man!!!

[puppetmaster13u]

Eeee Glad yall like them <3

Hm. That's a good question about the Lazarus waters. I don't think so, in like a forced way. It might count enough that it's possible for them to do so- but the issue is that Lazarus Waters will kill someone if they're not near death when exposed. (At least that was the rule originally, who knows how things have changed in other comics) If they do get in Lazarus waters or come into contact with it, I do want to say it supercharges their bioluminescence lmao. Like they will light up.

Hunting galas are definitely a thing. And it gets violent I bet. Mouths and hands covered in blood and viscera that'd freak out anyone not from Gotham (or used to it in those that have married in but haven't begun their own changes yet) There's definitely a kiddie pool during those galas too. Shallower water for smaller kids learning or still building up tail strength and jaw muscles. People will be gossiping and their hands will dart out and pick up a squirming creature to casually rip open or snap the neck of before snacking.

Oh my god, Gala foods. There's a whole new level of that. I bet sushi and takes on sushi are common. Easy to hold and to stuff with goodies.

@just-a-madderslife had a fun idea of there being almost raincoat fashion and honestly that's fun. I bet there's a challenge or something of making raincoats that don't look like raincoats. Custom ones that mimic the patterns on their scales and such, dark interiors with flickers of bright colors that almost look like shimmering shapes in dark waters, y'know?

@meowmeowmeowmeow4x Honestly I feel like Damian would know about his less human-ish half from the beginning. Talia and Bruce and co have a decent relationship in this timeline, and I don't think any of them would exactly hide it from him. The Al Ghuls have also had magic run through their bloodline before, so I wouldn't be surprised if Bruce even grudgingly contacted one of his league contacts, or even the Al Ghuls themselves, when the curse first happened. (Heck, maybe that's why they have a decent relationship, communication for the win) So I think Damian would be pretty proud of it, maybe even a little self conscious about how much smaller(& clumsier in the water) he is compared to his adoptive siblings, who have been there for most of their lives.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(So Anyway that last bit with Clark from @f4nd0m-fun had me in a chokehold that spiraled so have a not-drabble lol) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 The moment Bruce registered what he was seeing, he’d admit there was more than a hint of cold fear that washed down his spine. There was a reason he’d drilled it into his children’s heads to label any food they brought from home. So maybe realizing his breakfast was missing made him panic a bit. 

 Look, he’d seen what happened when an idiot or two insisted on eating something his fellow gothamites warned them they couldn’t. Most did not survive and he could only hope and pray that no one had eaten any of it yet- or if they had they were perhaps immune. Somehow. 

 He’d been on monitor duty for practically the entire night and didn’t want to deal with this first thing! In fact he was this close to hysterically screaming, which any of his coworkers could agree was not a normal thing. 

 Maybe he was speed-walking more than a bit faster than he usually did and was maybe tapping out commands to open up the video from the entire night before. But it was understandable! He didn’t want to get one of his coworkers killed because they decided to eat literal poison! 

 He didn’t care if anyone saw him not-running (because he wasn’t!) but he was admittedly glad that no one saw him quite literally run right into Clark. Smacked right into his front and risked breaking his own nose like he’d done so with a concrete wall. 

 “Shoot- erm, sorry-” Clark’s face was flushed in embarrassment, hand not holding him up from falling holding a pan of something or other that smelled baked. Bruce might’ve still been hungry under all the panic and worry even if he’d not admit that out loud. 

   “Out of the way,” he practically growled, the dread about potential injury and death to his allies making him not care for any type of pleasantries. Even if the kryptonian’s midwestern disposition practically demanded them lest he look like a kicked puppy. 

   Clark looked utterly stricken, already having the aura of an apologetic dog who ate part of the couch while you were away. He’d apologize later, but he couldn’t waste even a moment- 

   “Aw sorry, erm, didn’t know you’d be this upset-” 

   What was he- No. Bruce stilled from where he’d been going down the hall, very slowly turning to look at the kryptonian. Him?! Of all the people in the Watchtower- “Clark,” he didn’t know why the kryptonian had paled, he thought his voice was perfectly pleasant. “Did you eat my breakfast, that was clearly labeled?” 

   Well he didn’t look poisoned at least, though that wasn’t going to stop Bruce from tearing him a new one, previous concussion or no. 

Mermay Special Prompt 3

“Are you kidding? No one goes to Gotham, that place is like,” Aquaman made a motion with his hand, a not-quite grimace on his face. “Like things should not be living in the water, like it should be impossible, and things should be dead, but they aren’t and it’s like, like the equivalent of an undead apocalypse over there!” 

Bruce rolled his eyes behind his cowl, taking a sip of his coffee as the others continued drinking. Socialize, they said, it’ll be fine they said. Well excuse him, but the waters weren’t that bad. Sure there were always dumped bodies, and chemicals from the rogue attacks, but it was far worse at one point.

One thing he’ll always be relieved for is how the… curse (thank you broken statuette back in the beginning of his vigilante career that fused with the other many curses of Gotham) made the people of Gotham actually care about the waters around them. 

Though also, he couldn’t help but thank anything that might be listening for the fact that the curse only interacted with Gotham waters, because losing legs with any risk of a drop of water would be downright annoying. 

“No dude, you don’t understand, no one goes there for a reason! That shit is horrific- someone saw a big thing with bits of rebar stabbed straight through it and still chased after a big alligator-thing!” Oh. Oh that had been him. Oops. Hopefully his kids didn’t find out about this, but they were probably already on the cameras. Dammnit. 

[wandaslittlelove]

Freak

Pairing: Agathario x Daughter!Reader Warnings: Mentions of bullying

“Mama? Mami?” the six year old calls out into the dark bedroom. It was about midnight. The moon shining through the cracks of the blinds. The girl had been put to bed hours ago but had woken up a little bit ago. Agatha wakes to her arm being shaken. She quickly turns on the small bedside lamp as she takes the small girl into her arms. Rio wakes at the movement having never been a light sleeper.

“Niña?” Rio says softly as she looks over to see her daughter in her wife's arms. There are small tears running down your cheeks as you look over at your mami. 

“Am I a freak?” Both women are taken back by your question looking at each other to see if they knew what you were talking about. They were both fully awake now Rio reaching out to brush your hair from your face and the tears from your eyes as Agatha gently rocked you.

“No baby no. Why would you think that?” Agatha asks as her hands rub up and down your back.

“The girls at school. They say that I’m a freak because of how I look because-” You pause in your sentence as you look up at Rio and immediately she understands what you mean. You had taken most of Agatha’s features. Your hair being a wavy brown and eyes a baby blue. Head to two you were like a mini version of her all except one aspect. You hadn’t learned to control the transformation yet. How to stop the bones that appeared out of nowhere. Out of all things Rio wished you wouldn’t have gotten that part of her. “They say I'm disgusting. That I shouldn’t be alive.” You whisper as you bury your face in your mama’s chest. 

“My darling, you are not disgusting or a freak, you are beautiful.” Agatha speaks as she looks to Rio. She can tell that her mind is racing. That she’s blaming herself. They had always feared you would get made fun of for it. Rio feared you would grow to despise her for it. That you would blame her for not being able to be fully normal. It’s part of the reason they had enrolled you in a school specifically for witches. They thought that maybe the kids would go easier. But it seemed that wasn’t happening.

“Do you think mami is a freak?” Agatha asks, causing both of your heads to turn at her wide eyed.

“No! Of course not.” You answered quickly as your head turned to look at Rio. Your tiny hands reached for her. Trying to show you didn’t think that. “Mami is pretty.” Rio’s heart melts at your words.

“Rio shows her.” Agatha says and Rio knows immediately what she’s asking. Rio had only shown you her true form a handful of times. Scared that you would think she’s a monster. With a deep breath the bottom part of her face turns into bone.

“Do you still think Mami is pretty?” Rio waits silently. Her nerves grow but quickly melt the second you bring a hand up to touch the bone.

“Yes.” You answer with no hesitation. Rio takes your hand in hers holding it tightly before changing back and pressing a kiss to your hand.

t

“That’s right. Mami is beautiful even when she looks like a skeleton and you my love are too. If mami is beautiful then so are you because you look like her. My skeletons.” A laugh escapes your lips at your mama’s words. Rio shares a smile with you both before a smirk overtakes her features. Moving quickly she plucks you out of Agatha’s lap and lays down with you trapped in her arms. Agatha joins in quickly, her hands tickling you as you squirm and try to get free.

Tomorrow they would have a talk with your principal and find out who was saying this stuff to you. Tomorrow they would continue to remind you that you are beautiful and loved. 

[hoodedjelly]

my Jenny, Tuck, Brad, Shelden, and Vega older designs ^__^

i'm watching mlaatr, still not done, i think i got like 10 more eps (and if i'm being transparent i skipped around eps... i just wanted to see vega...). And i'm absolutely loving the show!!!! i love these characters a lot, didn't like Shelden at first i'm going to be honest, #1 Shelden hater for a bit there. but he chilled out in season two and i started to ship breldon with that too so now i just love him so much.

more about my personal headcanons:

Jenny: - I am under the belief that she is transgender. Jenny was made genderless, so her deciding to be a girl was strictly her choice and i believe that makes her trans. (She's also a lesbian) - she did grow a bit, im not gonna explain how idc really i just liked her being a taller lady :-) - she has A LOT of different cute outfits and hair styles, honestly too much to draw. she never transforms back into her base show outfit when crime fighting, she just fights in her cute summer dress she don't care. - her and vega are dating grrgrgrrrr - when vega is in rule she makes it so there is complete free access between earth and cluster prime for citizens in both places. - I say that cause i think when jenny is older she moves in with vega, technically living in cluster prime but visits earth like everyday. And brad/shelby/tucker/wakeman visit cluster prime - Jenny also hangs out with the nicktoons unite gang, but i deffo feel like its just that secondary friend group that you don't talk to with for months. when you talk again its the same goofiness as before - i think danny calls for her help when he needs it (also manny) Tuck: - he is still a little shit but we love him - adhd boy - questioning cis (he/him) - he got into robotics/stem and builds little silly things - with that, he gets help from Shelby - pretty much just a silly teen, he's on the internet a lot and has "cringe" interests - but idk he's having fun and being silly and finding himself (those interests is stuff like sonic and among us) Shelden(Shelby) - honestly kinda nervous about ppl thoughts on my Shelden, idk it makes so much sense in my brain - hits you with the transfem beam (she/they) Pansexual (she just wants anyone type of vibe) - I think when jenny is visiting vega often that leaves Shelby and Brad hanging out alone a lot. which they don't mind honestly, they are actually good friends! - but during that they just get closer and start catching feelings. Shelby eventually lets go of her feelings about jenny and realizes they were a real jerk and weirdo to her. brad helps them through that and eventually her realizing she's trans. blah blah they in love and kiss at some point. - Shelby is also a furry lmaooo her fursona is a cat.

Brad: - bisexual cis man (he/him) - Still his old brad self if i'm being honest. - totally forgot to say i think all 3 of them go off to college together (even though jenny doesn't have to i feel like she would prob want to just for the experience, but tell me if you think differently i'm still unsure) - i really don't know what else to say sorry brad! he's literally just as silly as ever man. he's just also gay - i will say here i feel it takes a lot longer for shelby and brad to start dating then jenny and vega. they got that slow burn kinda shit going on, since a lot of that is shelby being confused about her feelings. and jenny and vega just hit it off right away if im being honest, very high school sweethearts. - (also i think shelby makes brad make a fursona to match hers, so brad got a dog fursona)

Vega: - Lesbian cis (she/her) - That ending of her just ruling cluster prime was just so crazy to me cause like, aint she like 16? - i think she has a lot of stressed nights and fearing she's not doing the right thing for her people, and jenny tries to help as much she can - that is why jenny visits so much, she wants to help her. - very much got those nights were she accidently falls asleep at her desk, jenny finding her and giving her a blanket and a kiss goodnight - it's not like she's unhappy, she is actually very very passionate about her work and wants to NOT be like her mom - and yeah she deffo goes to robo therapy for the stuff with her mom. - i think it's a conflict where vega is scared her mom is gonna come back and jenny has to reassure her that if she does they'll get rid of her for good.

imma be honest a lot of my hcs are pretty half-baked and random things, im sure im going to think of more stuff in the future but that will be in different posts.

[locusfandomtime]

fake book covers based on Cub’s museum gift shop and the signs he posted with fake book titles! This was a lot of fun haha. I know there are more fake books, and now he’s getting signed books from hermits, so I plan on making more soon! May even make a Reddit account just to post these guys on the subreddit

design notes under cut!

The Diamond Pillar Saga: Hotguy(TM) Flies Again - this title evoked such a visceral image of something you’d find in a Scholastic book fair so I went for sort of pre-teen superhero action novel, the kind with a bunch of pictures and stupid chapter titles. I imagine in-universe Scar is trying to sell as much Hotguy merch as possible so whilst he has stuff for the adults (shirtless calendars) he’d also have comic books and novels for the kids. There’s a concorp logo because I like to think the Hotguy brand is owned by concorp and it was just a cool touch

Grian’s Theory of The Mind - have you ever seen books on like psychology and breaking habits and behaviour, that kind of stuff? They always look like this. There’s a yellow background, a simple abstract design, a bunch of book awards/reviews, and a single sentence hook. This one was the easiest and most fun to design!

Joe Hills: Transformative Poems - this was based on the “Joe Hills Poetry Corner”. Transformative poems is from “transformative works” meaning… fanfiction basically. Joe has written fanfic before and I thought an Iliad/Hermit crossover would be something he’d do. Joe made the cover himself so it has a dyed leather cover and a simple design. He tried to ask Cleo for a review so he could put one on the front but she was kinda mean about it and laughed at him so he wrote a fake one instead

Ren the King: A Complicated Legacy - this one had no explicit author but I decided Cleo made the most logical sense. Historical non-fiction books often have these B+W photo backgrounds with some dramatic, fancy text overtop, so I painted the Crastle and added then messed around with text. There’s a reduced sticker over Cleo’s name because this is Cub’s gift shop and he wouldn’t want to give her credit (but still wants to stock up his shop)

[slu7formen]

I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her like this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

[flooreye]

Ok, so, idk if I missed the character limit so I'm sorry if it's too much, I also don't want to put any pressure on you either!

So! What if reader was half human half dragon? (I mean like, How to train your dragon kinda dragon)

Where they can either be human, half human/dragon (like, walking on their legs but being a bit taller than before, having scales instead of skin, wings and tail) and full dragon form (like toothless)

(I apologize if it's too complicated 😭)

Reader: gender neutral

Characters (romantic hc): Sun Wukong, Macaque and MK? (Maybe Mei Mei too if it's not pushing it)

Again, no pressure, and if it's too much I'll understand! Have a lovely day :D

Mei, MK, Wukong and Macaque with a dragon hybrid reader

(notes: MUAHAHAHAH YOU HAVE FED ME YOUNG ONE!! I didnt have much ideas but this was so fun!)

Mei

shes SOOO EXCITED

like?? a fellow dragon? a PRETTY ONE?!!

she asks if you breathe fire, and depending on your species you answer

you two go on joyrides in the sky <33

the second you transformed she was like 🫦

she is in AWE OF YOUUUU

she asks you so many questions about your species and you’re happy to answer them all

her fans think you’re a cosplayer 💀

she demands piggy back rides, and pulls your collar down to kiss you

”i love my tall partner”

she catches you hoarding gems and has a picture saved on her phone

her parents are like 🙌

you have asian parent approval congrats (im viet, so i should know)

—

MK

seductive monster x shy human real!!,

he was very intimidated at first, he thought you would eat him

but when you purr with your lil reptile noises hes SMITTEN

i hc that you pick him up and fly with him

hes happy he can relate to someone who can relate to having this animalistic side of their life

he blushes a lot. like.. you’re HELLA TALL and MK is probably short as hell so… add two and two together

you steal his stuff a lot and hoard it as treasure. he doesnt mind, as long as youre happy

you reach things on the top shelf for him. change my mind.

—

SWK

CUDDLE PILES!!!

you two fly in FFF together

SPIDERMAN/SKY KISSES BABYYYY

he thinks you look so graceful and pretty

you could kick his ass and he would say thank you

you spar with MK sometimes to help him and MK is FLABBERGASTED

imagine wukong getting into a stupid fight and you jsut swoop in and save him

he gives you as many treasures as possible for you to hoard

and when you’re in dragon form hes like 😳

mans thinking of situations. none of them are in the tripitaka/the buddhist bible

he tries to turn into a dragon, he cant do it

”sighhhhh i miss my tall pookie bear”

he leans on your shoulder

—

Macaque

he admires your strength, but not in the sense that Wukong does, more like respect and love

you go on nighttime flights together, its rlly relaxing

he pets you. fight me.

like dragon pookie = cat pookie

scratches, pets, distracting you with shiny things

you get rlly mad and then he just kisses you and youre like 😳

the only man that can calm you down

if you were dating before he joined the gang, POWER COUPLEEE

”hey babe ready to beat up wukongs student” “hold up lemme change firstttt”

he pulls you down with your collar to kiss you

hes still a massive flirt <33

i hc that you make little replite/cat sounds. the first time macaque heard them hes like “wait did you just”

he has teased you for it ever since

the dojo’s kinda small, so you have to duck to enter, and he literally CHANGED HIS DOOR so you can enter easily

[monstersflashlight]

Hii!! I have a request I've been thinking about for a while,

How about FEMreader with a submissive vulnerable werehusband?, reader adopts a black and white normal cat, and spends alll her time on the cat and giving the cats pets, snuggles, and even cuddles with the cat sometimes, and werehusband is secretly fuming and making up a plan to get rid of the cat, he hates watching reader give the cat pets, that's supposed to be him getting the pets!, so one day while reader is out at work, he returns the cat back to the adoption center, goes back home to a completely fuming reader, since werehusband is vulnerable and we'll yk, submissive, reader spanks him, (all the kinky stuff *wink wink*) and calls him a bad boy, and instead, reader denies to touch werehusband as a punishment, and when they finally make love, reader makes sure it slow and stops whenever werehusband is about to cum.

Tyy have a night day/night🙏🥰🐺

Hi anon! Love your idea but changed it a tiny bit because I think it would be more fun this way, hope you don’t mind, enjoy! <3

The neighborhood cat

Werecat x fem!reader || dom/sub dynamic (fem dom), praise kink, pegging, spanking

You picked the cat on the street, and he was so cute and thin you felt so bad for him you had to take it home with you. He slept with you, followed you around and overall acted like the cutest cat in existence. You took so many pics of him that your phone gallery looked like a portfolio of a pet photographer. Until one day you came back a bit earlier, expecting your cute cat to be playing with the new toy you bought him, but instead you found...

A human-ish creature.

He had a human body, but cat ears and whiskers and a tail. He looked like some cat-hybrid creature and you were mesmerized for a second, then your fly or fight response kicked in and you screamed. He ran to you, covering your mouth with his hand (with freakingly long nails). You calmed down enough for him to explain.

He explained he wasn’t a cat per se, well, he was, but not always. When you finally got out of your stupor you wanted to scream at him, but you calmly told him to get out. He didn’t, he got on his knees and begged you to give him a change, to not kick him out. He had nowhere to go and you were so nice to him, he would take care of the house while you were away and he would transform back into a cat when you were back home. It would be like having a cat again and he won’t be homeless anymore. He looked so cute that you couldn’t say no.

And that’s how you found yourself with a werecat roommate.

Everything was going great, more than great. He left you tiny notes all around the house, and you gave his cat-form scratches every time you found a new one. It worked for you two. But what you weren’t expecting is to be so fucking fond of him, of those tiny acts of service and those tiny notes that made you smile every time you spotted a new one. You… liked him. You liked him as a person, not as your werecat roommate anymore. And you didn’t know what to do about it.

Until the one day you came home tipsy after partying with your friends and he had to help you get out of your clothes, and into your pj’s. He looked so pretty and he was so nice… You confessed everything in a blur of alcohol and confusion, and you fell asleep before he could respond. The next day you woke up with breakfast ready and a werecat looking anxiously at you. You talked it out and… it worked out.

You dated for three months, experimenting with domming and subbing and all the things in between. Your werecat boyfriend was a lot more kinkier than expected, in the best possible way. You discovered he liked to bottom as much as he liked to top, and you enjoyed both, too. It was a match made in heaven… or more like in a weird alleyway on a night out.

And your shared kinky side had its perks sometimes...

You were looking at him walking past you when he turned around rapidly and knocked the glass of water off the table. “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You screamed, the water going everywhere, your pants rapidly getting wet, too.

“Wha- I’m sorry.” He was looking at the glass on the floor like it personally victimized him, and it was lowkey funny.

“Why did you do that?” You asked, feeling confused by his behaviour and trying really hard not to laugh at the stupidity of the situation.

“I- I don’t know. It was close to the edge and I just… knocked it,” he was as confused as you about it. “I- I don’t know,” he looked hella guilty and you almost wanted to laugh. He never acted so much like a cat before.

And then you had an idea to calm the air between you two, sometimes you forgot he wasn’t exactly human- “You need some punishment for that,” you teased.

He looked at you with surprise but with a spark of interest in his eyes, his tail moving around as he asked: “I do?” He was so fucking cute sometimes you wanted to protect him against the whole world.

“Yes. To the bedroom, naked. Now.” You saw him running down the hall as you chuckled, following him. When you got to the bedroom, he was already sprawled on it, looking at you expectantly. “What’s your safe-word?” You asked, pulling your sleeves up slowly.

“Cream,” he answered instantly, his dick twitching and his ears moving around nervously. So fucking cute.

“Good boy,” you praised, making him blush and look down. “Hand and knees,” you ordered, thinking about a plan already. He obeyed instantly, his long tail moving in the air like it did when he was excited for something. “I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to use a dildo on your pretty hole. Are you okay with that?”

“Ye- Yes, mistress.” You fucking loved when he called you that, and he knew it. Smart kitten.

You grabbed your favorite paddle out of the toy cabinet, not showing it to him as you approached. You spanked him without heads up, making him cry out and push his ass back. His tail was moving around like crazy and you grabbed it with your free hand, pulling hard. He cried out again, a puddle of precum forming over the sheets already.

You spanked a total of ten times before he was a crying mess, his cheeks red and tears running down his face. His ass was angry red, and your paddle rested against your hand as you looked at your boyfriend drooling on the sheets. He looked phenomenal when he was all pliant and needy, his dick bobbing every time his body shivered with a caress.

You decided you had enough teasing, you wanted to ruin him, and you wanted it now. “Are you still doing okay? Do you want to continue? Do you need a breather?” You asked, always prioritizing his well-being.

“N- No, mistress, please. Keep going,” his voice was so raw after the crying that your panties got instantly drenched. The power trip of playing with him was so good you forgot how much you liked sometimes.

“Such a good boy. Such a good kitten.” You passed him a bottle of lube, making a mental note to get more soon. “Open yourself up as I get the dildo ready, kitten.” Your order was followed by a whine.

“Yes. Yes,” he answered, forgetting the most important part.

Your voice was harsh when you asked: “Yes, what? Do I have to take the paddle again?” You reached to get it before he cried out again.

“No. No, mistress. I’m sorry, mistress. Yes, I’ll prep myself. Thank you, mistress.” Such a cute kitten, always babbling when he was needy.

“That’s better. Prep yourself, you don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?” You knew you’d give him all the time he needed, but he liked to be good, and you wanted to ruin him tonight.

When you were naked and had your strap on all settled, you looked at him as he worked himself open slowly, looking at you over his shoulder, making these mewling sounds that drove you insane. You approached him, teasing the tip of the dildo against his gaping hole, alongside his fingers. You took his hand away, pressing your body against his back, pushing his face against the pillow as he panted. The dildo was right at his entrance, and you took it in your hand to play a little bit more with him. You teased him for a few minutes, enjoying his pitiful sounds and kissing his back tenderly, shushing him.

“Are you ready for me?” He nodded, burying his face on the pillow again, biting into it with his tiny fangs. You chuckled as you guided the dildo against his hole, pressing firmly but slowly.

By the time you were fully inside of him, tears were running down his face again and he couldn’t stop begging you to go faster, harder, to give him more. But you didn’t listen. You fucked him slowly, marveling at the sounds and pants, at his soft groans and pleas. He was such a good boy for you, you wanted to kiss him senseless, but first you were going to make him cum so hard he passed out.

When his hips were rolling back into yours, and he was doing those pretty sounds he did when he was about to cum, you ordered: “Come for me, kitten.” At your words, it was like lightning hit him, his whole body convulsed and his arms and legs gave out, falling into a puddle of his own come as he rutted against the mattress, prolonging his pleasure as you tilted your hips and hit his prostate repeatedly and he kept coming.

“Enough… Please, mistress, it’s too much.” You took pity on him and stopped moving, taking the dildo out and kissing his back until his breathing came back to normal. “I guess I have to be bad more frequently,” he finally said, making you laugh so hard you almost fell off the bed.

[boffix]

forget pussy, forget cock. I want to know what you think of a monster AU for deep cut. Shiver being a Harpy, Frye a Naga and Big man a Wearbear.

Ooo fun! More at the bottom :D

(Sleep deprived vomit ⬇️)

Harpy Shiver was interesting to think about. Since the myth is that they were sent by Zeus to torment and stuff, would the world of Splatoon follow that logic? If so, then there would have to be a god or gods to believe in (Anyways I’m gonna ignore it because this is being posted at 3am bestie). Maybe she could have been sent by some higher power for that reason and joins the other two along the way. Maybe gone rogue and abandoned her mission? Idk.

Naga Frye was sick as fuck bro. I was focused mainly on the au portion tbh- like her searching for some rare loot or whatever and choosing to help Shiver as long as they help with the treasure hunt. BM joining as the moral compass of course.

Werebear BM was SO fun to draw. The werebear origins I came across was from the berserkers of Norse mythology. Couldn’t tie much of that to the big guy so he’s just a gentle giant, now with more fluff! His demeanor wouldn’t change at all after transforming. With him being the head of his clan, his self control should be the best of the best.